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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:53:11 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:53:11 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30137-0.txt b/30137-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7a4c93 --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10702 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30137 *** + +DAISY BROOKS; + +Or, + +A Perilous Love. + +by + +LAURA JEAN LIBBEY, + +Author of + +"Parted on Her Bridal Tour," or "Miss Middleton's Lover," +"When His Love Grew Cold," "He Loved, But Was Lured Away," +"When Lovely Maiden Stoops to Folly," "The Crime of Hallow E'en," +"Lovers Once, But Strangers Now," Etc., Etc. + + + + + + + +Copyright 1883, by George Munro. +Copyright 1911, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company. +Dramatic Rights Reserved by Laura Jean Libbey-Stillwell. + +New York: +J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company, +57 Rose Street. + + + + +DAISY BROOKS. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +A warm day in the southern part of West Virginia was fast drawing to a +close; the heat during the day had been almost intolerable under the +rays of the piercing sun, and the night was coming on in sullen +sultriness. No breath of cooling air stirred the leafy branches of the +trees; the stillness was broken only by the chirping of the crickets, +and the fire-flies twinkled for a moment, and were then lost to sight +in the long grasses. + +On one of the most prosperous plantations in that section of the +country there was a great stir of excitement; the master, Basil +Hurlhurst, was momentarily expected home with his bride. The negroes +in their best attire were scattered in anxious groups here and there, +watching eagerly for the first approach of their master's carriage on +the white pebbled road. + +The curtains of Whitestone Hall were looped back, and a cheerful flood +of light shone out on the waving cotton fields that stretched out as +far as the eye could reach, like a field of snow. The last touches had +been given to the pillars of roses that filled every available nook +and corner, making the summer air redolent with their odorous +perfumes. Mrs. Corliss, who had maintained the position of housekeeper +for a score of years or more, stood at the window twisting the +telegram she held in her hand with ill-concealed impatience. The +announcement of this home-coming had been as unexpected as the news of +his marriage had been quite a year before. + +"Let there be no guests assembled--my reasons will be made apparent to +you later on," so read the telegram, which puzzled the housekeeper +more than she cared to admit to the inquisitive maid, who stood near +her, curiously watching her thoughtful face. + +"'Pears to me it will rain afore they get here, Hagar," she said, +nervously, and, as if in confirmation of her words, a few rain-drops +splashed against the window-pane. + +Both stood gazing intently out into the darkness. The storm had now +commenced in earnest. The great trees bent to and fro like reeds +before the wind; the lightning flashed, and the terrific crash of +roaring thunder mingled with the torrent of rain that beat furiously +against the casement. It seemed as if the very flood-gates of heaven +were flung open wide on this memorable night of the master's return. + +"It is a fearful night. Ah! happy is the bride upon whose home-coming +the sunlight falls," muttered Mrs. Corliss under her breath. + +Hagar had caught the low-spoken words, and in a voice that sounded +strange and weird like a warning, she answered: + +"Yes, and unhappy is the bride upon whose home-coming rain-drops +fall." + +How little they knew, as they stood there, of the terrible tragedy--the +cruelest ever enacted--those grim, silent walls of Whitestone Hall +were soon to witness, in fulfillment of the strange prophecy. Hagar, +the maid, had scarcely ceased speaking ere the door was flung violently +open, and a child of some five summers rushed into the room, her face +livid with passion, and her dark, gleaming eyes shining like baneful +stars, before which the two women involuntarily quailed. + +"What is this I hear?" she cried, with wild energy, glancing fiercely +from the one to the other. "Is it true what they tell me--my father is +bringing home his bride?" + +"Pluma, my child," remonstrated Mrs. Corliss, feebly, "I--" + +"Don't Pluma me!" retorted the child, clutching the deep crimson +passion-roses from a vase at her side, and trampling them ruthlessly +beneath her feet. "Answer me at once, I say--has he _dared_ do it?" + +"P-l-u-m-a!" Mrs. Corliss advances toward her, but the child turns her +darkly beautiful, willful face toward her with an imperious gesture. + +"Do not come a step nearer," cried the child, bitterly, "or I shall +fling myself from the window down on to the rocks below. I shall never +welcome my father's wife here; and mark me, both of you, I hate her!" +she cried, vehemently. "She shall rue the day that she was born!" + +Mrs. Corliss knew but too well the child would keep her word. No +power, save God, could stay the turbulent current of the ungovernable +self-will which would drag her on to her doom. No human being could +hold in subjection the fierce, untamed will of the beautiful, youthful +tyrant. + +There had been strange rumors of the unhappiness of Basil Hurlhurst's +former marriage. No one remembered having seen her but once, quite +five years before. A beautiful woman with a little babe had suddenly +appeared at Whitestone Hall, announcing herself as Basil Hurlhurst's +wife. There had been a fierce, stormy interview, and on that very +night Basil Hurlhurst took his wife and child abroad; those who had +once seen the dark, glorious, scornful beauty of the woman's face +never forgot it. Two years later the master had returned alone with +the little child, heavily draped in widower's weeds. + +The master of Whitestone Hall was young; those who knew his story were +not surprised that he should marry--he could not go through life +alone; still they felt a nameless pity for the young wife who was to +be brought to the home in which dwelt the child of his former wife. + +There would be bitter war to the end between them. No one could tell +on which side the scales of mercy and justice would be balanced. + +At that instant, through the raging of the fierce elements, the sound +of carriage wheels smote upon their ears as the vehicle dashed rapidly +up the long avenue to the porch; while, in another instant, the young +master, half carrying the slight, delicate figure that clung timidly +to his arm, hurriedly entered the spacious parlor. There was a short +consultation with the housekeeper, and Basil Hurlhurst, tenderly +lifting the slight burden in his strong, powerful arms, quickly bore +his wife to the beautiful apartments that had been prepared for her. + +In the excitement of the moment Pluma was quite forgotten; for an +instant only she glanced bitterly at the sweet, fair face resting +against her father's shoulder, framed in a mass of golden hair. The +child clinched her small hands until she almost cried aloud with the +intense pain, never once deigning a glance at her father's face. In +that one instant the evil seeds of a lifetime were sown strong as life +and more bitter than death. + +Turning hastily aside she sprung hurriedly down the long corridor, and +out into the darkness and the storm, never stopping to gain breath +until she had quite reached the huge ponderous gate that shut in the +garden from the dense thicket that skirted the southern portion of the +plantation. She laughed a hard, mocking laugh that sounded unnatural +from such childish lips, as she saw a white hand hurriedly loop back +the silken curtains of her father's window, and saw him bend tenderly +over the golden-haired figure in the arm-chair. Suddenly the sound of +her own name fell upon her ear. + +"Pluma," whispered a low, cautious voice; and in the quick flashes of +lightning she saw a white, haggard woman's face pressed close against +the grating, and two white hands were steadily forcing the rusty lock. +There was no fear in the fiery, rebellious heart of the dauntless +child. + +"Go away, you miserable beggar-woman," she cried, "or I shall set the +hounds on you at once. Do you hear me, I say?" + +"Who are you?" questioned the woman, in the same low, guarded voice. + +The child threw her head back proudly, her voice rising shrilly above +the wild warring of the elements, as she answered: + +"Know, then, I am Pluma, the heiress of Whitestone Hall." + +The child formed a strange picture--her dark, wild face, so strangely +like the mysterious woman's own, standing vividly out against the +crimson lightning flashes, her dark curls blown about the gypsy-like +face, the red lips curling scornfully, her dark eyes gleaming. + +"Pluma," called the woman, softly, "come here." + +"How dare _you_, a beggar-woman, call me!" cried the child, +furiously. + +"Pluma--come--here--instantly!" + +There was a subtle something in the stranger's voice that throbbed +through the child's pulses like leaping fire--a strange, mysterious +influence that bound her, heart and soul, like the mesmeric influence +a serpent exerts over a fascinated dove. Slowly, hesitatingly, this +child, whose fiery will had never bowed before human power, came +timidly forward, step by step, close to the iron gate against which +the woman's face was pressed. She stretched out her hand, and it +rested for a moment on the child's dark curls. + +"Pluma, the gate is locked," she said. "Do you know where the keys +are?" + +"No," answered the child. + +"They used to hang behind the pantry door--a great bunch of them. +Don't they hang there now?" + +"Ye--es." + +"I thought so," muttered the woman, triumphantly. "Now, listen, Pluma; +I want you to do exactly as I bid you. I want you to go quickly and +quietly, and bring me the longest and thinnest one. You are not to +breathe one word of this to any living soul. Do you understand, +Pluma--I command you to do it." + +"Yes," answered the child, dubiously. + +"Stay!" she called, as the child was about to turn from her. "Why is +the house lighted up to-night?" + +Again the reckless spirit of the child flashed forth. + +"My father has brought home his bride," she said. "Don't you see him +bending over her, toward the third window yonder?" + +The woman's eyes quickly followed in the direction indicated. + +Was it a curse the woman muttered as she watched the fair, golden-haired +young girl-wife's head resting against Basil Hurlhurst's breast, his +arms clasped lovingly about her? + +"Go, Pluma!" she commanded, bitterly. + +Quickly and cautiously the child sped on her fatal errand through the +storm and the darkness. A moment later she had returned with the key +which was to unlock a world of misery to so many lives. + +"Promise me, Pluma, heiress of Whitestone Hall, never to tell what you +have done or seen or heard to-night. You must never dare breathe it +while you live. Say you will never tell, Pluma." + +"No," cried the child, "I shall never tell. They might kill me, but I +would never tell them." + +The next moment she was alone. Stunned and bewildered, she turned her +face slowly toward the house. The storm did not abate in its fury; +night-birds flapped their wings through the storm overhead; owls +shrieked in the distance from the swaying tree-tops; yet the child +walked slowly home, knowing no fear. In the house lights were moving +to and fro, while servants, with bated breath and light footfalls, +hurried through the long corridors toward her father's room. No one +seemed to notice Pluma, in her dripping robe, creeping slowly along by +their side toward her own little chamber. + +It was quite midnight when her father sent for her. Pluma suffered him +to kiss her, giving back no answering caress. + +"I have brought some one else to you, my darling," he said. "See, +Pluma--a new mamma! And see who else--a wee, dimpled little sister, +with golden hair like mamma's, and great blue eyes. Little Evalia is +your sister, dear. Pluma must love her new mamma and sister for papa's +sake." + +The dark frown on the child's face never relaxed, and, with an +impatient gesture, her father ordered her taken at once from the +room. + +Suddenly the great bells of Whitestone Hall ceased pealing for the +joyous birth of Basil Hurlhurst's daughter, and bitter cries of a +strong man in mortal anguish rent the air. No one had noticed how or +when the sweet, golden-haired young wife had died. With a smile on her +lips, she was dead, with her tiny little darling pressed close to her +pulseless heart. + +But sorrow even as pitiful as death but rarely travels singly. Dear +Heaven! how could they tell the broken-hearted man, who wept in such +agony beside the wife he had loved so well, of another mighty sorrow +that had fallen upon him? Who was there that could break the news to +him? The tiny, fair-haired infant had been stolen from their midst. +They would have thanked God if it had been lying cold in death upon +its mother's bosom. + +Slowly throughout the long night--that terrible night that was never +to be forgotten--the solemn bells pealed forth from the turrets of +Whitestone Hall, echoing in their sound: "Unhappy is the bride the +rain falls on." Most truly had been the fulfillment of the fearful +prophecy! + +"Merciful God!" cried Mrs. Corliss, "how shall I break the news to my +master? The sweet little babe is gone!" + +For answer Hagar bent quickly over her, and breathed a few words in +her ear that caused her to cry out in horror and amaze. + +"No one will ever know," whispered Hagar; "it is the wisest course. +The truth will lie buried in our own hearts, and die with us." + + * * * * * + +Six weeks from the night his golden-haired wife had died Basil Hurlhurst +awoke to consciousness from the ravages of brain-fever--awoke to a life +not worth the living. Quickly Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was +sent for, who soon entered the room, leaning upon Hagar's arm. + +"My wife is--" He could not say more. + +"Buried, sir, beneath yonder willow." + +"And the babe?" he cried, eagerly. "Dead," answered Hagar, softly. +"Both are buried in one grave." + +Basil Hurlhurst turned his face to the wall, with a bitter groan. + +Heaven forgive them--the seeds of the bitterest of tragedies were +irrevocably sown. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +One bright May morning some sixteen years later, the golden sunshine +was just putting forth its first crimson rays, lighting up the +ivy-grown turrets of Whitestone Hall, and shining upon a little white +cottage nestling in a bower of green leaves far to the right of it, +where dwelt John Brooks, the overseer of the Hurlhurst plantation. + +For sixteen years the grand old house had remained closed--the +plantation being placed in charge of a careful overseer. Once again +Whitestone Hall was thrown open to welcome the master, Basil +Hurlhurst, who had returned from abroad, bringing with him his +beautiful daughter and a party of friends. + +The interior of the little cottage was astir with bustling activity. + +It was five o'clock; the chimes had played the hour; the laborers were +going to the fields, and the dairy-maids were beginning their work. + +In the door-way of the cottage stood a tall, angular woman, shading +her flushed and heated face from the sun's rays with her hand. + +"Daisy, Daisy!" she calls, in a harsh, rasping voice, "where are you, +you good-for-nothing lazy girl? Come into the house directly, I say." +Her voice died away over the white stretches of waving cotton, but no +Daisy came. "Here's a pretty go," she cried, turning into the room +where her brother sat calmly finishing his morning meal, "a pretty go, +indeed! I promised Miss Pluma those white mulls should be sent over to +her the first thing in the morning. She will be in a towering rage, +and no wonder, and like enough you'll lose your place, John Brooks, +and 'twill serve you right, too, for encouraging that lazy girl in her +idleness." + +"Don't be too hard on little Daisy, Septima," answered John Brooks, +timidly, reaching for his hat. "She will have the dresses at the Hall +in good time, I'll warrant." + +"Too hard, indeed; that's just like you men; no feeling for your poor, +overworked sister, so long as that girl has an easy life of it. It was +a sorry day for _me_ when your aunt Taiza died, leaving this girl to +our care." + +A deep flush mantled John Brooks' face, but he made no retort, while +Septima energetically piled the white fluted laces in the huge +basket--piled it full to the brim, until her arm ached with the weight +of it--the basket which was to play such a fatal part in the truant +Daisy's life--the life which for sixteen short years had been so +monotonous. + +Over the corn-fields half hid by the clover came a young girl tripping +lightly along. John Brooks paused in the path as he caught sight of +her. "Poor, innocent little Daisy!" he muttered half under his breath, +as he gazed at her quite unseen. + +Transferred to canvas, it would have immortalized a painter. No wonder +the man's heart softened as he gazed. He saw a glitter of golden +curls, and the scarlet gleam of a mantle--a young girl, tall and +slender, with rounded, supple limbs, and a figure graceful in every +line and curve--while her arms, bare to the elbow, would have charmed +a sculptor. Cheek and lips were a glowing rosy red--while her eyes, of +the deepest and darkest blue, were the merriest that ever gazed up to +the summer sunshine. + +Suddenly from over the trees there came the sound of the great bell at +the Hall. Daisy stood quite still in alarm. + +"It is five o'clock!" she cried. "What shall I do? Aunt Septima will +be so angry with me; she promised Miss Pluma her white dresses should +be at the Hall by five, and it is that already." + +Poor little Daisy! no wonder her heart throbbed painfully and the look +of fear deepened in her blue eyes as she sped rapidly up the path that +led to the little cottage where Septima grimly awaited her with +flushed face and flashing eyes. + +"So," she said, harshly, "you are come at last, are you? and a pretty +fright you have given me. You shall answer to Miss Pluma _herself_ for +this. I dare say you will never attempt to offend her a second time." + +"Indeed, Aunt Septima, I never dreamed it was so late," cried +conscious Daisy. "I was watching the sun rise over the cotton-fields, +and watching the dewdrops glittering on the corn, thinking of the +beautiful heiress of Whitestone Hall. I am so sorry I forgot about the +dresses." + +Hastily catching up the heavy basket, she hurried quickly down the +path, like a startled deer, to escape the volley of wrath the +indignant spinster hurled after her. + +It was a beautiful morning; no cloud was in the smiling heavens; the +sun shone brightly, and the great oak and cedar-trees that skirted the +roadside seemed to thrill with the song of birds. Butterflies spread +their light wings and coquetted with the fragrant blossoms, and busy +humming-bees buried themselves in the heart of the crimson wild rose. +The basket was very heavy, and poor little Daisy's hands ached with +the weight of it. + +"If I might but rest for a few moments only," she said to herself, +eying the cool, shady grass by the roadside. "Surely a moment or two +will not matter. Oh, dear, I am so tired!" + +She set the basket down on the cool, green grass, flinging herself +beside it beneath the grateful shade of a blossoming magnolia-tree, +resting her golden head against the basket of filmy laces that were to +adorn the beautiful heiress of whom she had heard so much, yet never +seen, and of whom every one felt in such awe. + +She looked wistfully at the great mansion in the distance, thinking +how differently her own life had been. + +The soft, wooing breeze fanned her cheeks, tossing about her golden +curls in wanton sport. It was so pleasant to sit there in the dreamy +silence watching the white fleecy clouds, the birds, and the flowers, +it was little wonder the swift-winged moments flew heedlessly by. +Slowly the white lids drooped over the light-blue eyes, the long, +golden lashes lay against the rosy cheeks, the ripe lips parted in a +smile--all unheeded were the fluted laces--Daisy slept. Oh, cruel +breeze--oh, fatal wooing breeze to have infolded hapless Daisy in your +soft embrace! + +Over the hills came the sound of baying hounds, followed by a quick, +springy step through the crackling underbrush, as a young man in +close-fitting velvet hunting-suit and jaunty velvet cap emerged from +the thicket toward the main road. + +As he parted the magnolia branches the hound sprang quickly forward at +some object beneath the tree, with a low, hoarse growl. + +"Down, Towser, down!" cried Rex Lyon, leaping lightly over some +intervening brushwood. "What kind of game have we here? Whew!" he +ejaculated, surprisedly; "a young girl, pretty as a picture, and, by +the eternal, fast asleep, too!" + +Still Daisy slept on, utterly unconscious of the handsome brown eyes +that were regarding her so admiringly. + +"I have often heard of fairies, but this is the first time I have ever +caught one napping under the trees. I wonder who she is anyhow? Surely +she can not be some drudging farmer's daughter with a form and face +like that?" he mused, suspiciously eying the basket of freshly +laundered laces against which the flushed cheeks and waving golden +hair rested. + +Just then his ludicrous position struck him forcibly. + +"Come, Towser," he said, "it would never do for you and me to be +caught staring at this pretty wood-nymph so rudely, if she should by +chance awaken just now." + +Tightening the strap of his game-bag over his shoulder, and +readjusting his velvet cap jauntily over his brown curls, Rex was +about to resume his journey in the direction of Whitestone Hall, when +the sound of rapidly approaching carriage-wheels fell upon his ears. +Realizing his awkward position, Rex knew the wisest course he could +possibly pursue would be to screen himself behind the magnolia +branches until the vehicle should pass. The next instant a pair of +prancing ponies, attached to a basket phaeton, in which sat a young +girl, who held them well in check, dashed rapidly up the road. Rex +could scarcely repress an exclamation of surprise as he saw the +occupant was his young hostess, Pluma Hurlhurst of Whitestone Hall. +She drew rein directly in front of the sleeping girl, and Rex Lyon +never forgot, to his dying day, the discordant laugh that broke from +her red lips--a laugh which caused poor Daisy to start from her +slumber in wild alarm, scattering the snowy contents of the basket in +all directions. + +For a single instant their eyes met--these two girls, whose lives were +to cross each other so strangely--poor Daisy, like a frightened bird, +as she guessed intuitively at the identity of the other; Pluma, +haughty, derisive, and scornfully mocking. + +"You are the person whom Miss Brooks sent to Whitestone Hall with my +mull dresses some three hours since, I presume. May I ask what +detained you?" + +Poor Daisy was quite crestfallen; great tear-drops trembled on her +long lashes. How could she answer? She had fallen asleep, wooed by the +lulling breeze and the sunshine. + +"The basket was so heavy," she answered, timidly, "and I--I--sat down +to rest a few moments, and--" + +"Further explanation is quite unnecessary," retorted Pluma, sharply, +gathering up the reins. "See that you have those things at the Hall +within ten minutes; not an instant later." + +Touching the prancing ponies with her ivory-handled whip, the haughty +young heiress whirled leisurely down the road, leaving Daisy, with +flushed face and tear-dimmed eyes, gazing after her. + +"Oh, dear, I wish I had never been born," she sobbed, flinging herself +down on her knees, and burying her face in the long, cool grass. "No +one ever speaks a kind word to me but poor old Uncle John, and even he +dare not be kind when Aunt Septima is near. She might have taken this +heavy basket in her carriage," sighed Daisy, bravely lifting the heavy +burden in her delicate arms. + +"That is just what I think," muttered Rex Lyon from his place of +concealment, savagely biting his lip. + +In another moment he was by her side. + +"Pardon me," he said, deferentially raising his cap from his glossy +curls, "that basket is too heavy for your slender arms. Allow me to +assist you." + +In a moment the young girl stood up, and made the prettiest and most +graceful of courtesies as she raised to his a face he never forgot. +Involuntarily he raised his cap again in homage to her youth, and her +shy sweet beauty. + +"No; I thank you, sir, I have not far to carry the basket," she +replied, in a voice sweet as the chiming of silver bells--a voice that +thrilled him, he could not tell why. + +A sudden desire possessed Rex to know who she was and from whence she +came. + +"Do you live at the Hall?" he asked. + +"No," she replied, "I am Daisy Brooks, the overseer's niece." + +"Daisy Brooks," said Rex, musingly. "What a pretty name! how well it +suits you!" + +He watched the crimson blushes that dyed her fair young face--she +never once raised her dark-blue eyes to his. The more Rex looked at +her the more he admired this coy, bewitching, pretty little maiden. +She made a fair picture under the boughs of the magnolia-tree, thick +with odorous pink-and-white tinted blossoms, the sunbeams falling on +her golden hair. + +The sunshine or the gentle southern wind brought Rex no warning he was +forging the first links of a dreadful tragedy. He thought only of the +shy blushing beauty and coy grace of the young girl--he never dreamed +of the hour when he should look back to that moment, wondering at his +own blind folly, with a curse on his lips. + +Again from over the trees came the sound of the great bell from the +Hall. + +"It is eight o'clock," cried Daisy, in alarm. "Miss Pluma will be so +angry with me." + +"Angry!" said Rex; "angry with you! For what?" + +"She is waiting for the mull dresses," replied Daisy. + +It was a strange idea to him that any one should dare be angry with +this pretty gentle Daisy. + +"You will at least permit me to carry your basket as far as the gate," +he said, shouldering her burden without waiting for a reply. Daisy had +no choice but to follow him. "There," said Rex, setting the basket +down by the plantation gate, which they had reached all too soon, "you +must go, I suppose. It seems hard to leave the bright sunshine to go +indoors." + +"I--I shall soon return," said Daisy, with innocent frankness. + +"Shall you?" cried Rex. "Will you return home by the same path?" + +"Yes," she replied, "if Miss Pluma does not need me." + +"Good-bye, Daisy," he said. "I shall see you again." + +He held out his hand and her little fingers trembled and fluttered in +his clasp. Daisy looked so happy yet so frightened, so charming yet so +shy, Rex hardly knew how to define the feeling that stirred in his +heart. + +He watched the graceful, fairy figure as Daisy tripped away--instead +of thinking he had done a very foolish thing that bright morning. Rex +lighted a cigar and fell to dreaming of sweet little Daisy Brooks, and +wondering how he should pass the time until he should see her again. + +While Daisy almost flew up the broad gravel path to the house, the +heavy burden she bore seemed light as a feather--no thought that she +had been imprudent ever entered her mind. + +There was no one to warn her of the peril which lay in the witching +depths of the handsome stranger's glances. + +All her young life she had dreamed of the hero who would one day come +to her, just such a dream as all youthful maidens experience--an idol +they enshrine in their innermost heart, and worship in secret, never +dreaming of a cold, dark time when the idol may lie shattered in ruins +at their feet. How little knew gentle Daisy Brooks of the fatal love +which would drag her down to her doom! + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +In an elegant boudoir, all crimson and gold, some hours later, sat +Pluma Hurlhurst, reclining negligently on a satin divan, toying idly +with a volume which lay in her lap. She tossed the book aside with a +yawn, turning her superb dark eyes on the little figure bending over +the rich trailing silks which were to adorn her own fair beauty on the +coming evening. + +"So you think you would like to attend the lawn fête to-night, Daisy?" +she asked, patronizingly. + +Daisy glanced up with a startled blush, + +"Oh, I should like it so much, Miss Pluma," she answered, hesitatingly, +"if I only could!" + +"I think I shall gratify you," said Pluma, carelessly. "You have made +yourself very valuable to me. I like the artistic manner you have +twined these roses in my hair; the effect is quite picturesque." She +glanced satisfiedly at her own magnificent reflection in the +cheval-glass opposite. Titian alone could have reproduced those +rich, marvelous colors--that perfect, queenly beauty. He would have +painted the picture, and the world would have raved about its beauty. +The dark masses of raven-black hair; the proud, haughty face, with +its warm southern tints; the dusky eyes, lighted with fire and +passion, and the red, curved lips. "I wish particularly to look my +very best to-night, Daisy," she said; "that is why I wish you to +remain. You can arrange those sprays of white heath in my hair +superbly. Then you shall attend the fête, Daisy. Remember, you are not +expected to take part in it; you must sit in some secluded nook +where you will be quite unobserved." + +Pluma could not help but smile at the ardent delight depicted in +Daisy's face. + +"I am afraid I can not stay," she said, doubtfully, glancing down in +dismay at the pink-and-white muslin she wore. "Every one would be sure +to laugh at me who saw me. Then I would wish I had not stayed." + +"Suppose I should give you one to wear--that white mull, for +instance--how would you like it? None of the guests would see you," +replied Pluma. + +There was a wistful look in Daisy's eyes, as though she would fain +believe what she heard was really true. + +"Would you really?" asked Daisy, wonderingly. "You, whom people call +so haughty and so proud--you would really let me wear one of your +dresses? I do not know how to tell you how much I am pleased!" she +said, eagerly. + +Pluma Hurlhurst laughed. Such rapture was new to her. + +The night which drew its mantle over the smiling earth was a perfect +one. Myriads of stars shone like jewels in the blue sky, and not a +cloud obscured the face of the clear full moon. Hurlhurst Plantation +was ablaze with colored lamps that threw out soft rainbow tints in all +directions as far as the eye could reach. The interior of Whitestone +Hall was simply dazzling in its rich rose bloom, its lights, its +fountains, and rippling music from adjoining ferneries. + +In an elegant apartment of the Hall Basil Hurlhurst, the recluse +invalid, lay upon his couch, trying to shut out the mirth and gayety +that floated up to him from below. As the sound of Pluma's voice +sounded upon his ear he turned his face to the wall with a bitter +groan. "She is so like--" he muttered, grimly. "Ah! the pleasant +voices of our youth turn into lashes which scourge us in our old age. +'Like mother, like child.'" + +The lawn fête was a grand success; the _élite_ of the whole country +round were gathered together to welcome the beautiful, peerless +hostess of Whitestone Hall. Pluma moved among her guests like a queen, +yet in all that vast throng her eyes eagerly sought one face. "Where +was Rex?" was the question which constantly perplexed her. After the +first waltz he had suddenly disappeared. Only the evening before +handsome Rex Lyon had held her jeweled hand long at parting, +whispering, in his graceful, charming way, he had something to tell +her on the morrow. "Why did he hold himself so strangely aloof?" Pluma +asked herself, in bitter wonder. Ah! had she but known! + +While Pluma, the wealthy heiress, awaited his coming so eagerly, Rex +Lyon was standing, quite lost in thought, beside a rippling fountain +in one of the most remote parts of the lawn, thinking of Daisy Brooks. +He had seen a fair face--that was all--a face that embodied his dream +of loveliness, and without thinking of it found his fate, and the +whole world seemed changed for him. + +Handsome, impulsive Rex Lyon, owner of several of the most extensive +and lucrative orange groves in Florida, would have bartered every +dollar of his worldly possessions for love. + +He had hitherto treated all notion of love in a very off-hand, +cavalier fashion. + +"Love is fate," he had always said. He knew Pluma loved him. Last +night he had said to himself: The time had come when he might as well +marry; it might as well be Pluma as any one else, seeing she cared so +much for him. Now all that was changed. "I sincerely hope she will not +attach undue significance to the words I spoke last evening," he +mused. + +Rex did not care to return again among the throng; it was sweeter far +to sit there by the murmuring fountain dreaming of Daisy Brooks, and +wondering when he should see her again. A throng which did not hold +the face of Daisy Brooks had no charm for Rex. + +Suddenly a soft step sounded on the grass; Rex's heart gave a sudden +bound; surely it could not be--yes, it was--Daisy Brooks. + +She drew back with a startled cry as her eyes suddenly encountered +those of her hero of the morning. She would have fled precipitately +had he not stretched out his hand quickly to detain her. + +"Daisy," cried Rex, "why do you look so frightened? Are you displeased +to see me?" + +"No," she said. "I--I--do not know--" + +She looked so pretty, so bewildered, so dazzled by joy, yet so +pitifully uncertain, Rex was more desperately in love with her than +ever. + +"Your eyes speak, telling me you _are_ pleased, Daisy, even if your +lips _refuse_ to tell me so. Sit down on this rustic bench, Daisy, +while I tell you how anxiously I awaited your coming--waited until the +shadows of evening fell." + +As he talked to her he grew more interested with every moment. She +had no keen intellect, no graceful powers of repartee, knew little of +books or the great world beyond. Daisy was a simple, guileless child +of nature. + +Rex's vanity was gratified at the unconscious admiration which shone +in her eyes and the blushes his words brought to her cheeks. + +"There is my favorite waltz, Daisy," he said, as the music of the +irresistible "Blue Danube" floated out to them. "Will you favor me +with a waltz?" + +"Miss Pluma would be so angry," she murmured. + +"Never mind her anger, Daisy. I will take all the blame on _my_ +shoulders. They are unusually broad, you see." + +He led her half reluctant among the gay throng; gentlemen looked at +one another in surprise. Who is she? they asked one of the other, +gazing upon her in wonder. No one could answer. The sweet-faced little +maiden in soft, floating white, with a face like an angel's, who wore +no other ornament than her crown of golden hair, was a mystery and a +novelty. In all the long years of her after life Daisy never forgot +that supremely blissful moment. It seemed to her they were floating +away into another sphere. Rex's arms were around her, his eyes smiling +down into hers; he could feel the slight form trembling in his +embrace, and he clasped her still closer. With youth, music, and +beauty--there was nothing wanting to complete the charm of love. + +Leaning gracefully against an overarching palm-tree stood a young man +watching the pair with a strange intentness; a dark, vindictive smile +hovered about the corners of his mouth, hidden by his black mustache, +and there was a cruel gleam in the dark, wicked eyes scanning the face +of the young girl so closely. + +"Ah! why not?" he mused. "It would be a glorious revenge." He made his +way hurriedly in the direction of his young hostess, who was, as +usual, surrounded by a group of admirers. A deep crimson spot burned +on either cheek, and her eyes glowed like stars, as of one under +intense, suppressed excitement. + +Lester Stanwick made his way to her side just as the last echo of the +waltz died away on the air, inwardly congratulating himself upon +finding Rex and Daisy directly beside him. + +"Miss Pluma," said Stanwick, with a low bow, "will you kindly present +me to the little fairy on your right? I am quite desperately smitten +with her." + +Several gentlemen crowded around Pluma asking the same favor. + +With a smile and a bow, what could Rex do but lead Daisy gracefully +forward. Those who witnessed the scene that ensued never forgot it. +For answer Pluma Hurlhurst turned coldly, haughtily toward them, +drawing herself up proudly to her full height. + +"There is evidently some mistake here," she said, glancing scornfully +at the slight, girlish figure leaning upon Rex Lyon's arm. "I do not +recognize this person as a guest. If I mistake not, she is one of the +hirelings connected with the plantation." + +If a thunderbolt had suddenly exploded beneath Rex's feet he could not +have been more thoroughly astounded. + +Daisy uttered a piteous little cry and, like a tender flower cut down +by a sudden, rude blast, would have fallen at his feet had he not +reached out his arm to save her. + +"Miss Hurlhurst," cried Rex, in a voice husky with emotion, "I hold +myself responsible for this young lady's presence here. I--" + +"Ah!" interrupts Pluma, ironically; "and may I ask by what right you +force one so inferior, and certainly obnoxious, among us?" + +Rex Lyon's handsome face was white with rage. "Miss Hurlhurst," he +replied, with stately dignity, "I regret, more than the mere words +express, that my heedlessness has brought upon this little creature at +my side an insult so cruel, so unjust, and so bitter, in simply +granting my request for a waltz--a request very reluctantly granted. +An invited guest among you she may not be; but I most emphatically +defy her inferiority to any lady or gentleman present." + +"Rex--Mr. Lyon," says Pluma, icily, "you forget yourself." + +He smiled contemptuously. "I do not admit it," he said, hotly. "I have +done that which any gentleman should have done; defended from insult +one of the purest and sweetest of maidens. I will do more--I will +shield her, henceforth and forever, with my very life, if need be. If +I can win her, I shall make Daisy Brooks my wife." + +Rex spoke rapidly--vehemently. His chivalrous soul was aroused; he +scarcely heeded the impetuous words that fell from his lips. He could +not endure the thought that innocent, trusting little Daisy should +suffer through any fault of his. + +"Come, Daisy," he said, softly, clasping in his own strong white ones +the little fingers clinging so pitifully to his arm, "we will go away +from here at once--our presence longer is probably obnoxious. +Farewell, Miss Hurlhurst." + +"Rex," cried Pluma, involuntarily taking a step forward, "you do not, +you can not mean what you say. You will not allow a creature like that +to separate us--you have forgotten, Rex. You said you had something to +tell me. You will not part with me so easily," she cried. + +A sudden terror seized her at the thought of losing him. He was her +world. She forgot the guests gathering about her--forgot she was the +wealthy, courted heiress for whose glance or smiles men sued in +vain--forgot her haughty pride, in the one absorbing thought that Rex +was going from her. Her wild, fiery, passionate love could bear no +restraint. + +"Rex," she cried, suddenly falling on her knees before him, her face +white and stormy, her white jeweled hands clasped supplicatingly, "you +must not, you shall not leave me so; no one shall come between us. +Listen--I love you, Rex. What if the whole world knows it--what will +it matter, it is the truth. My love is my life. You loved me until she +came between us with her false, fair face. But for this you would have +asked me to be your wife. Send that miserable little hireling away, +Rex--the gardener will take charge of her." + +Pluma spoke rapidly, vehemently. No one could stay the torrent of her +bitter words. + +Rex was painfully distressed and annoyed. Fortunately but very few of +the guests had observed the thrilling tableau enacted so near them. + +"Pluma--Miss Hurlhurst," he said, "I am sorry you have unfortunately +thus expressed yourself, for your own sake. I beg you will say no +more. You yourself have severed this night the last link of +friendship between us. I am frank with you in thus admitting it. I +sympathize with you, while your words have filled me with the +deepest consternation and embarrassment, which it is useless longer to +prolong." + +Drawing Daisy's arm hurriedly within his own, Rex Lyon strode quickly +down the graveled path, with the full determination of never again +crossing the threshold of Whitestone Hall, or gazing upon the face of +Pluma Hurlhurst. + +Meanwhile Pluma had arisen from her knees with a gay, mocking laugh, +turning suddenly to the startled group about her. + +"Bravo! bravo! Miss Pluma," cried Lester Stanwick, stepping to her +side at that opportune moment. "On the stage you would have made a +grand success. We are practicing for a coming charade," explained +Stanwick, laughingly; "and, judging from the expressions depicted on +our friend's faces, I should say you have drawn largely upon real +life. You will be a success, Miss Pluma." + +No one dreamed of doubting the assertion. A general laugh followed, +and the music struck up again, and the gay mirth of the fête resumed +its sway. + +Long after the guests had departed Pluma sat in her boudoir, her heart +torn with pain, love, and jealousy, her brain filled with schemes of +vengeance. + +"I can not take her life!" she cried; "but if I could mar her +beauty--the pink-and-white beauty of Daisy Brooks, which has won Rex +from me--I would do it. I shall torture her for this," she cried. "I +will win him from her though I wade through seas of blood. Hear me, +Heaven," she cried, "and register my vow!" + +Pluma hastily rung the bell. + +"Saddle Whirlwind and Tempest at once!" she said to the servant who +answered her summons. + +"It is after midnight, Miss Pluma. I--" + +There was a look in her eyes which would brook no further words. + +An hour later they had reached the cottage wherein slept Daisy Brooks, +heedless of the danger that awaited her. + +"Wait for me here," said Pluma to the groom who accompanied her--"_I +will not be long!_" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +"Daisy," said Rex, gently, as he led her away from the lights and the +echoing music out into the starlight that shone with a soft, silvery +radiance over hill and vale, "I shall never forgive myself for being +the cause of the cruel insult you have been forced to endure to-night. +I declare it's a shame. I shall tell Pluma so to-morrow." + +"Oh, no--no--please don't, Mr. Rex. I--I--had no right to waltz with +you," sobbed Daisy, "when I knew you were Pluma's lover." + +"Don't say that, Daisy," responded Rex, warmly. "I am glad, after all, +everything has happened just as it did, otherwise I should never have +known just how dear a certain little girl had grown to me; besides, I +am not Pluma's lover, and never shall be now." + +"You have quarreled with her for my sake," whispered Daisy, +regretfully. "I am so sorry--indeed I am." + +Daisy little dreamed, as she watched the deep flush rise to Rex's +face, it was of her he was thinking, and not Pluma, by the words, "a +certain little girl." + +Rex saw she did not understand him; he stopped short in the path, +gazing down into those great, dreamy, pleading eyes that affected him +so strangely. + +"Daisy," he said, gently, taking her little clinging hands from his +arm, and clasping them in his own, "you must not be startled at what I +am going to tell you. When I met you under the magnolia boughs, I knew +I had met my fate. I said to myself: 'She, and no other, shall be my +wife.'" + +"Your wife," she cried, looking at him in alarm. "Please don't say so. +I don't want to be your wife." + +"Why not, Daisy?" he asked, quickly. + +"Because you are so far above me," sobbed Daisy. "You are so rich, and +I am only poor little Daisy Brooks." + +Oh, how soft and beautiful were the eyes swimming in tears and lifted +so timidly to his face! She could not have touched Rex more deeply. +Daisy was his first love, and he loved her from the first moment their +eyes met, with all the strength of his boyish, passionate nature; so +it is not strange that the thought of possessing her, years sooner +than he should have dared hope, made his young blood stir with ecstasy +even though he knew it was wrong. + +"Wealth shall be no barrier between us, Daisy," he cried. "What is all +the wealth in the world compared to love? Do not say that again. Love +outweighs everything. Even though you bid me go away and forget you, +Daisy, I could not do it. I can not live without you." + +"Do you really love me so much in so short a time?" she asked, +blushingly. + +"My love can not be measured by the length of time I have known you," +he answered, eagerly. "Why, Daisy, the strongest and deepest love men +have ever felt have come to them suddenly, without warning." + +The glamour of love was upon him; he could see no faults in pretty +little artless Daisy. True, she had not been educated abroad like +Pluma, but that did not matter; such a lovely rosebud mouth was made +for kisses, not grammar. + +Rex stood in suspense beside her, eagerly watching the conflict going +on in the girl's heart. + +"Don't refuse me, Daisy," he cried, "give me the right to protect you +forever from the cold world; let us be married to-night. We will keep +it a secret if you say so. You must--you _must_, Daisy, for I can not +give you up." + +Rex was so eager, so earnest, so thoroughly the impassioned lover! His +hands were clinging to her own, his dark, handsome face drooped near +hers, his pleading eyes searching her very soul. + +Daisy was young, romantic, and impressible; a thousand thoughts rushed +through her brain; it would be so nice to have a young husband to love +her and care for her like Rex, so handsome and so kind; then, too, she +would have plenty of dresses, as fine as Pluma wore, all lace and +puffs; she might have a carriage and ponies, too; and when she rolled +by the little cottage, Septima, who had always been so cruel to her, +would courtesy to _her_, as she did when Pluma, the haughty young +heiress, passed. + +The peachy bloom on her cheeks deepened; with Daisy's thoughtless +clinging nature, her craving for love and protection, her implicit +faith in Rex, who had protected her so nobly at the fête--it is not to +be wondered Rex won the day. + +Shyly Daisy raised her blue eyes to his face--and he read a shy, sweet +consent that thrilled his very soul. + +"You shall never regret this hour, my darling," he cried, then in the +soft silvery twilight he took her to his heart and kissed her +rapturously. + +His mother's bitter anger, so sure to follow--the cold, haughty +mother, who never forgot or forgave an injury, and his little sister +Birdie's sorrow were at that moment quite forgotten--even if they had +been remembered they would have weighed as naught compared with his +lovely little Daisy with the golden hair and eyes of blue looking up +at him so trustingly. + +Daisy never forgot that walk through the sweet pink clover to the +little chapel on the banks of the lonely river. The crickets chirped +in the long green grass, and the breeze swayed the branches of the +tall leafy trees, rocking the little birds in their nests. + +A sudden, swift, terrified look crept up into Daisy's face as they +entered the dim shadowy parlor. Rex took her trembling chilled hands +in his own; if he had not, at that moment, Daisy would have fled from +the room. + +"Only a little courage, Daisy," he whispered, "then a life of +happiness." + +Then as if in a dream she stood quite still by his side, while the +fatal ceremony went on; in a confused murmur she heard the questions +and responses of her lover, and answered the questions put to her; +then Rex turned to her with a smile and a kiss. + +Poor little thoughtless Daisy--it was done--in a moment she had sown +the seeds from which was to spring up a harvest of woe so terrible +that her wildest imagination could not have painted it. + +"Are we really married, Rex?" she whispered, as he led her out again +into the starlight; "it seems so much like a dream." + +He bent his handsome head and kissed his pretty child-bride. Daisy +drew back with a startled cry--his lips were as cold as ice. + +"Yes, you are my very own now," he whispered. "No one shall ever have +the right to scold you again; you are mine now, Daisy, but we must +keep it a secret from every one for awhile, darling. You will do this +for my sake, won't you, Daisy?" he asked. "I am rich, as far as the +world knows, but it was left to me under peculiar conditions. I--I--do +not like to tell you what those conditions were, Daisy." + +"Please tell me, Rex," she said, timidly; "you know I am +your--your--wife--now." + +Daisy blushed so prettily as she spoke. Rex could not refrain from +catching her up in his arms and kissing her. + +"You _shall_ know, my darling," he cried. "The conditions were I +should marry the bride whom my mother selected for me. I was as much +startled as you will be, Daisy, when you hear who it was--Pluma +Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall." + +"But you can not marry her now, Rex," whispered the little child-bride, +nestling closer in his embrace. + +"No; nor I would not if I could. I love you the best, my pretty wild +flower. I would not exchange you, sweet, for all the world. I have +only told you this so you will see why it is necessary to keep our +marriage a secret--for the present, at least." + +Daisy readily consented. + +"You are very wise, Rex," she said. "I will do just as you tell me." + +By this time they had reached Daisy's home. + +"I will meet you to-morrow at the magnolia-tree, where first I found +my little wood-nymph, as I shall always call you. Then we can talk +matters over better. You will be sure to come while the dew sparkles +on your pretty namesakes?" he asked, eagerly. + +Before she had time to answer the cottage door opened and Septima +appeared in the door-way. Rex was obliged to content himself with +snatching a hasty kiss from the rosy lips. The next moment he was +alone. + +He walked slowly back through the tangled brushwood--not to +Whitestone Hall, but to an adjoining hostelry--feeling as though he +were in a new world. True, it _was_ hard to be separated from his +little child-bride. But Rex had a clever brain; he meant to think +of some plan out of the present difficulty. His face flushed and +paled as he thought of his new position; it seemed to him every +one must certainly read in his face he was a young husband. + +Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the broad gravel path to the little +cottage, wondering if it were a dream. + +"Well!" said Septima, sharply, "this is a pretty time of night to come +dancing home, leaving me all alone with the baking! If I hadn't my +hands full of dough I'd give your ears a sound boxing! I'll see you're +never out after dark again, I'll warrant." + +For a moment Daisy's blue eyes blazed, giving way to a roguish smile. + +"I wonder what she would say if she knew I was Daisy Brooks no longer, +but Mrs. Rex Lyon?" she thought, untying the blue ribbons of her hat. +And she laughed outright as she thought how amazed Septima would look; +and the laugh sounded like the ripple of a mountain brook. + +"Now, Aunt Seppy," coaxed Daisy, slipping up behind her and flinging +her plump little arms around the irate spinster's neck, "please don't +be cross. Indeed I was very particularly detained." + +Stptima shook off the clinging arms angrily. + +"You can't coax _me_ into upholding you with your soft, purring ways. +I'm not Brother John, to be hoodwinked so easily. Detained! A likely +story!" + +"No," laughed Daisy; "but you are dear old Uncle John's sister, and I +could love you for that, if for nothing else. But I really was +detained, though. Where's Uncle John?" + +"He's gone to the Hall after you, I reckon. I told him he had better +stop at home--you were like a bad penny, sure to find your way back." + +A sudden terror blanched Daisy's face. + +"When did he go, Aunt Seppy?" she asked, her heart throbbing so loudly +she was sure Septima would hear it. + +"An hour or more ago." + +Daisy hastily picked up her hat again. + +"Where are you going?" demanded Septima, sharply. + +"I--I--am going to meet Uncle John. Please don't stop me," she cried, +darting with the speed of a young gazelle past the hand that was +stretched out to stay her mad flight. "I--I--must go!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"I say you shall not," cried Septima, planting herself firmly before +her. "You shall not leave this house to-night." + +"You have no right to keep me here," panted Daisy. "I am--I am--" The +words died away on her lips. Rex had told her she must not tell just +yet. + +"You are a rash little fool," cried Septima, wrathfully. "You are the +bane of my life, and have been ever since that stormy winter night +John brought you here. I told him then to wash his hands of the whole +matter; you would grow up a willful, impetuous minx, and turn out at +last like your mother." + +Daisy sprung to her feet like lightning, her velvet eyes blazing, her +breath coming quick and hot. + +"Speak of me as lightly as you will, Aunt Septima," she cried, "but +you must spare my poor mother's name! Oh, mother, mother!" she cried, +flinging herself down on her knees, and sobbing piteously, "if you had +only taken me with you, down into the dark cruel waters!" + +"I only wish to Heaven she had!" fervently ejaculated Septima. + +At that moment a quick, hurried step sounded on the gravel path +without, and John Brooks hastily entered the room. + +"Ah! thank God! here you are, Daisy. I was over at the Hall for you, +and they told me you had left some hours before. I knew you had not +been home, and I was sorely afraid something had happened you." + +Ah! how little he knew! Something had happened to her, the darkest and +cruelest shadow that had ever darkened a girl's life was slowly +gathering above her innocent head, and was soon to break, carrying in +its turbulent depths a sorrow more bitter than death to bear. + +John Brooks glanced inquiringly from the one to the other, intuitively +guessing he must have interrupted a scene. + +Daisy had struggled up from her knees to a sitting posture, putting +her hair, curled into a thousand shining rings, away from her flushed +face. + +"Have you been scolding Daisy again, Septima?" he asked, angrily, +taking the panting little damsel from the floor and seating her upon +his knee, and drawing her curly head down to his rough-clad shoulder, +and holding it there with his toil-hardened hand. "What have you been +saying to my little Daisy that I find her in tears?" + +"I was telling her if she did not mend her willful ways she might turn +out like her moth--" + +"Hush!" exclaimed John Brooks, excitedly. "I shouldn't have thought +you would have dared say that. What does Daisy know of such things?" +he muttered, indignantly. "Don't let your senses run away with you, +Septima." + +"Don't let your senses run away with you, John Brooks. Haven't you the +sense to know Daisy is getting too big for you to take on your knee +and pet in that fashion? I am really ashamed of you. Daisy is almost a +woman!" snapped Septima, scornfully--"quite sixteen." + +John Brooks looked at his sister in amazement, holding little Daisy +off and gazing into the sweet little blooming face, and stroking the +long fluffy golden curls as he replied: + +"Ah, no, Septima; Daisy is only a child. Why, it seems as though +it were but yesterday I used to take her with me through the +cotton-fields, and laugh to see her stretch her chubby hands up, +crying for the bursting blossoms, growing high above her curly +golden head. Pshaw! Septima, Daisy is only a merry, frolicsome, +romantic child yet." + +Daisy nestled her tell-tale face closer on his broad shoulder to hide +the swift blushes that crept up to cheek and brow. + +"Look up, pet," he said, coaxingly, "I have news for you." + +"What--what is it?" gasped Daisy, wondering if he could possibly have +heard of her romantic marriage with Rex, turning white to the very +lips, her blue eyes darkening with suspense. + +"Come, come, now," laughed, John, good-humoredly, "don't get excited, +pet, it will take me just as long to tell it anyhow; it is something +that will please you immensely." + +He drew from his breast pocket as he spoke a thick, yellow envelope, +which contained several printed forms with blank spaces which were to +be filled up. There was something in his voice which made Daisy look +at him, but her eyes fell and her cheeks flushed hotly as she met his +glance. + +Daisy was not used to keeping a secret locked up in her truthful +little heart. She longed to throw her arms around his neck and whisper +to him of her mad, romantic marriage, and of the handsome young +husband who loved her so fondly. + +Daisy knew so little of real life, and less of love and marriage, up +to the time she had met Rex! Her heroes had been imaginary ones, her +ideas of love only girlish, romantic fancies. It was all very +exciting and charming. She was very fond of handsome Rex, but she had +yet to learn the depths of love which, sooner or later, brightens the +lives of lovable women. + +Daisy looked at the envelope with a wistful glance. + +"I am going to make a lady of you, my little sunbeam. I am going to +send you off to boarding-school. That's what you have always wanted; +now I am going to humor your whim." + +"But I--I do not want to go now, Uncle John. I--I have changed my +mind." + +"What!" + +"I--I don't want to go off to boarding-school now. I had rather stay +here with you." + +John Brooks laid down the pipe he was just lighting in genuine +surprise. + +"Why, it's only last week you were crying those pretty eyes of yours +out, teasing to be sent to school. I--well, confound it--I don't +understand the ways of women. I always thought you were different from +the rest, little Daisy, but I see you are all the same. Never two days +of the same mind. What is the reason you've changed your mind, pet?" + +"Indeed, I don't want to go now, Uncle John. Please don't talk about +it any more. I--I am happier here than I can tell you." + +John Brooks laughed cheerily. + +"It's too late for you to change your mind now, little one. I have +made arrangements for you to start bright and early to-morrow morning. +The stage will be here by daylight, so you had better start off to bed +at once, or there will be no roses in these checks to-morrow." + +He never forgot the expression of the white, startled face Daisy +raised to his. For once in her life Daisy was unable to shake him from +his purpose. + +"I know best, little one," he said. "I mean to make a lady of you. You +have no fortune, little Daisy, but your pretty face. It will be hard +to lose my little sunbeam, but it is my duty, Daisy. It is too late to +back out now; for once I am firm. You must start to-morrow morning." + +"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" sobbed Daisy, throwing herself down on her +little white bed when she had reached her own room, "what shall I do? +I can't go without seeing Rex. I never heard of a girl that was +married being sent off to school. I--I dare not tell Uncle John I am +somebody's wife. Oh, if I could only see Rex!" Daisy springs out of +bed and crosses over to the little white curtained window, gazing out +into the still calm beauty of the night. "If I only knew where to +find Rex," she mused, "I would go to him now. Surely he would not let +me be sent away from him." She turned away from the window with a +sigh. "I must see Rex to-morrow morning," she said, determinedly. And +the weary little golden head, tired out with the day which had just +died out, sunk restfully down upon the snowy pillow in a dreamless +sleep, the happiest, alas! that poor little girl-bride was to know for +long and weary years. + +A dark, dreamy silence wraps the cottage in its soft embrace, the +moon, clear and full, sails tranquilly through the star-sown heavens, +and the sweet scent of distant orange groves is wafted through the +midnight breeze. Yet the dark-cloaked figure that walks quickly and +softly up the graveled walk sees none of the soft, calm beauty of the +still summer night. She raises the brass knocker with a quick, +imperative touch. After a wait of perhaps ten minutes or so Septima +answers the summons, but the candle she holds nearly drops from her +hands as she beholds the face of her midnight visitor in the dim, +uncertain flickering glare of the candle-light. + +"Miss Pluma," she exclaims, in amazement, "is there any one ill at the +Hall?" + +"No!" replies Pluma, in a low, soft, guarded whisper. "I wished to see +you--my business is most important--may I come in?" + +"Certainly," answered Septima, awkwardly. "I beg your pardon, miss, +for keeping you standing outside so long." + +As Pluma took the seat Septima placed for her, the dark cloak she wore +fell from her shoulders, and Septima saw with wonder she still wore +the shimmering silk she had in all probability worn at the fête. The +rubies still glowed like restless, leaping fire upon her perfect arms +and snowy throat, and sprays of hyacinth were still twined in her +dark, glossy hair; but they were quite faded now, drooping, crushed, +and limp among her curls; there was a strange dead-white pallor on her +haughty face, and a lurid gleam shone in her dark, slumbrous eyes. +Pluma had studied well the character of the woman before her--who made +no secret of her dislike for the child thrust upon their bounty--and +readily imagined she would willingly aid her in carrying out the +scheme she had planned. + +Slowly one by one the stars died out of the sky; the pale moon drifted +silently behind the heavy rolling clouds; the winds tossed the tops of +the tall trees to and fro, and the dense darkness which precedes the +breaking of the gray dawn settled over the earth. + +The ponies which the groom had held for long hours pawed the ground +restlessly; the man himself was growing impatient. + +"She can be up to no good," he muttered; "all honest people should be +in their beds." + +The door of the cottage opened, and Pluma Hurlhurst walked slowly down +the path. + +"All is fair in love's warfare," she mutters, triumphantly. "Fool! +with your baby face and golden hair, you shall walk quickly into the +net I have spread for you; he shall despise you. Ay, crush with his +heel into the earth the very flowers that bear the name of _Daisy_." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Under the magnolia-tree, among the pink clover, Rex Lyon paced +uneasily to and fro, wondering what could have happened to detain +Daisy. He was very nervous, feverish, and impatient, as he watched the +sun rising higher and higher in the blue heavens, and glanced at his +watch for the fifth time in the space of a minute. + +"Pshaw!" he muttered, whisking off the tops of the buttercups near him +with his ebony walking-stick. "I am not myself at all. I am growing as +nervous as a woman. I think I'll read little sister Birdie's letter +over again to occupy my mind until my sweet little Daisy comes." + +He sighed and smiled in one breath, as he threw himself down at full +length on the green grass under the trees. Taking from his pocket a +little square white envelope, addressed in a childish hand to "Mr. +Rexford Lyon, Allendale, West Virginia, Care of Miss Pluma." Rex +laughed aloud, until the tears started to his eyes, as they fell on +the words "_Care of Miss Pluma_," heavily underlined in the lower +corner. + +"That is just like careless little romping Birdie," he mused. "She +supposes, because _she_ knows who _Miss Pluma_ is, every one else must +certainly be aware of the same fact." + +He spread out the letter on his knee, trying hard to while away time +in perusing its pages. + +Rex looked so fresh and cool and handsome in his white linen suit, +lying there under the shady trees that summer morning, his dark curls +resting on his white hand, and a smile lighting up his pleasant face, +it is not to be wondered at he was just the kind of young fellow to +win the love of young romantic girls like Daisy and Pluma--the haughty +young heiress. + +Slowly Rex read the letter through to the end. The morning stage +whirled rapidly past him on its way to meet the early train. Yet, all +unconscious that it bore away from him his treasure, he never once +glanced up from the letter he was reading. + +Again Rex laughed aloud as he glanced it over, reading as follows: + + "DEAR BROTHER REX,--We received the letter you wrote, and the + picture you sent with it, and my heart has been so heavy ever + since that I could not write to you because big tears would fall + on the page and blot it. Now, dear old Brother Rex, don't be angry + at what your little Birdie is going to say. Mamma says you are + going to marry and bring home a wife, and she showed me her + picture, and said you was very much in love with her, and I must + be so too. But I can't fall in love with her, Brother Rex; indeed, + I've tried very hard and I can't; don't tell anybody, but I'm + awfully afraid I sha'n't like her one bit. She looks stylish, and + her name Pluma sounds real stylish too, but she don't look kind. I + thought, perhaps, if I told you I did not like her you might give + her up and come home. I forgot to tell you the blue room and the + room across the hall is being fixed up for you just lovely, and I + am to have your old one. + + "P.S.--And we received a letter from Mr. Lester Stanwick, too. He + says he will be passing through here soon and wishes to call. When + are you coming home, Rex? Don't bring any one with you. + + "Your loving little sister, + "BIRDIE." + +"There's no fear of my bringing Pluma home now," he laughed, whistling +a snatch of "The Pages' Chorus." "Birdie won't have anything to fear +on that score. I do wish mother hadn't set my heart on my marrying +Pluma. Parents make a mistake in choosing whom their children shall +marry and whom they shall not. Love goes where it is sent." + +He looked at his watch again. + +"By George!" he muttered, turning very pale upon seeing another hour +had slipped away, "I can not stand this a minute longer. I _must_ see +what has happened to Daisy." + +With a nameless fear clutching at his heart--a dark, shadowy +fear--like the premonition of coming evil, Rex made his way rapidly +through the tangled underbrush, cutting across lots to John Brooks' +cottage. + +He had determined to call for Daisy upon some pretext. It was rather a +bold undertaking and might cause comment, still Rex was reckless of +all consequences; he _must_ see Daisy at all hazards; and when Rex +made up his mind to do anything he usually succeeded; he was as daring +and courageous as he was reckless and handsome. + +Once, twice, thrice he knocked, receiving no answer to his summons. + +"That's strange," he mused, "exceedingly strange." + +Hardly knowing what prompted him to do it, Rex turned the knob; it +yielded to the touch, swinging slowly back on its creaking hinges. + +"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, gazing wildly about him and as pale as +death, "Daisy is gone and the cottage is empty!" + +He leaned against the door-way, putting his hand to his brow like one +who had received a heavy blow; and the bare walls seemed to take up +the cry and echo, mockingly, "Gone!" + +The blow was so sudden and unexpected he was completely bewildered; +his brain was in a whirl. + +He saw a laborer crossing the cotton-fields and called to him. + +"I was looking for John Brooks," said Rex. "I find the cottage empty. +Can you tell me where they have gone?" + +"Gone!" echoed the man, surprisedly. "I don't understand it; I was +passing the door a few hours since, just as the stage drove off with +John Brooks and Daisy. 'Good-bye, neighbor,' he called out to me, 'I +am off on an extended business trip. You must bring your wife over to +see Septima; she will be lonely, I'll warrant.' There was no sign of +him moving then. I--I don't understand it." + +"You say he took Daisy with him," asked Rex, with painful eagerness. +"Can you tell me where they went?" + +The man shook his head and passed on. Rex was more mystified than +ever. + +"What can it all mean?" he asked himself. "Surely," he cried, +"Daisy--dear little innocent blue-eyed Daisy--could not have meant to +deceive me; yet why has she not told me?" + +The hot blood mounted to his temples. Perhaps Daisy regretted having +married him and had fled from him. The thought was so bitter it almost +took his breath away. Rex loved her so madly, so passionately, so +blindly, he vowed to himself he would search heaven and earth to find +her. And in that terrible hour the young husband tasted the first +draught of the cup of bitterness which he was to drain to the very +dregs. + +Poor Rex! he little knew this was but the first stroke of Pluma +Hurlhurst's fatal revenge--to remove her rival from her path that she +might win him back to his old allegiance. + + * * * * * + +Early that morning there had been great bustle and stir in the Brooks' +cottage. In vain Daisy had attempted to steal quietly away into her +own little room and write a hasty line to Rex, which, if all other +means failed her, she could send to him by one of the men employed in +the fields, begging him to come to her at once. Septima would not +leave her to herself for a single instant. Even her writing-desk, +which had stood on the bureau in the corner for years, was gone. Poor +little Daisy cried out to herself--fate was against her. + +"I should like to say good-bye to the old familiar scenes, Septima," +she said, making a desperate effort to meet Rex by some means. "I +should like to see the old magnolia-tree down in the glade just once +before I go." + +"Nonsense," replied Septima, sharply, a malicious smile hovering about +the corners of her mouth. "I guess the trees and the flowers won't +wither and die of grief if you don't bid them good-bye; it's too late +now, anyhow. See, here is the stage coming already," she cried, +glancing out of the window, "and here comes John with his valise and +umbrella. Make haste, Daisy; where's your gloves and satchel?" + +For one brief instant Daisy stood irresolute; if she had only dared +cry out to them "I am a bride; it is cruel to send me away from Rex," +what a world of misery might have been spared her! but her lips were +sealed. + +"Well, well," cried John Brooks, hurriedly entering the room; "not +ready yet, little girlie? We must be off at once or we will miss the +train." + +In vain Daisy protested brokenly she could not go, and the agony in +those blue uplifted eyes would have touched a heart of stone. Still +John Brooks believed it would be a sin to comply with her request. Go +to school she must, for Heaven had intended a cultured mind should +accompany so beautiful a face. Half lifting, half carrying the slight +figure in his powerful arms, Daisy was borne, half fainting and +sobbing as though her heart would break, to the vehicle which stood in +waiting. + +On through the fragrant stillness of that sunshiny summer morning the +jolting stage rolled rapidly on its way, crossing the little bridge +where she had lingered only the night before with Rex, her husband; +they would soon reach the alder bushes that skirted the pool. The next +bend in the road would bring her in sight of the magnolia-tree where +Rex would be awaiting her. + +Ah, thank Heaven, it was not too late! she could fling out her arms, +and cry out: "Rex, my love, my darling, they are bearing me from you! +Save me, Rex, my darling, save me!" + +John Brooks sat quietly by her side silently wondering what had come +over little Daisy--sweet, impulsive little Daisy--in a single night. +"She is only a child," he muttered to himself, "full of whims and +caprices; crying her eyes out last week because she could not go off +to school, and now crying because she's got to go." + +Swiftly the stage rolled down the green sloping hill-side; in another +moment it had reached the alder bushes and gained the curve of the +road, and she saw Rex lying on the green grass waiting for her. The +sunlight drifting through the magnolia blossoms fell upon his +handsome, upturned, smiling face and the dark curls pushed back from +his white forehead. "Rex! Rex!" she cried, wringing her white hands, +but the words died away on her white lips, making no sound. Then the +world seemed to close darkly around her, and poor little Daisy, the +unhappy girl-bride, fell back in the coach in a deadly swoon. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +"Poor little Daisy!" cried John Brooks, wiping away a suspicious +moisture from his eyes with his rough, toil-hardened hand, "she takes +it pretty hard now; but the time will come when she will thank me for +it. Heaven knows there's nothing in this world more valuable than an +education; and she will need it, poor little, motherless child!" + +As the stage drove up before the station Daisy opened her blue eyes +with a sigh. "I can at least write to Rex at once," she thought, "and +explain the whole matter to him." Daisy smiled as she thought Rex +would be sure to follow on the very next train. + +John Brooks watched the smile and the flush of the rosy face, and +believed Daisy was beginning to feel more reconciled about going to +school. + +"I hope we will get there by noon," said John, anxiously, taking the +seat beside her on the crowded train. "If we missed the train at the +cross-roads it would be a serious calamity. I should be obliged to +send you on alone; for I _must_ get to New York by night, as I have +some very important business to transact for the plantation which +must be attended to at once." + +"Alone!" echoed Daisy, tremblingly. "Why, Uncle John, I was never away +from home alone in my life!" + +"That's just the difficulty," he answered, perplexedly. "I have always +guarded my little flower from the world's cruel blasts, and you are +unused to the rough side of life." + +"Still, I _could_ go on alone," persisted Daisy, bravely. + +John Brooks laughed outright. + +"You would get lost at the first corner, my girlie! Then I should have +to fly around to these newspaper offices, advertising for the recovery +of a little country Daisy which was either lost, strayed, or stolen. +No, no, little one!" he cried; "I would not trust you alone, a +stranger in a great city. A thousand ills might befall a young girl +with a face like yours." + +"No one would know I was a stranger," replied Daisy, innocently. "I +should simply inquire the way to Madame Whitney's, and follow the +directions given me." + +"There! didn't I tell you you could never find the way?" laughed John +until he was red in the face. "You suppose a city is like our country +lanes, eh?--where you tell a stranger: 'Follow that path until you +come to a sign-post, then that will tell you which road leads to the +village.' Ha! ha! ha! Why, my dear little Daisy, not one person in a +hundred whom you might meet ever heard of Madame Whitney! In cities +people don't know their very neighbors personally. They are sure to +find out if there's any scandal afloat about them--and that is all +they do know about them. You would have a lively time of it finding +Madame Whitney's without your old uncle John to pilot you through, I +can tell you." + +Daisy's last hope was nipped in the bud. She had told herself, if she +were left alone, she could send a telegram back at once to Rex, and he +would join her, and she would not have to go to school--school, which +would separate a girl-bride from her handsome young husband, of whom +she was fast learning to be so fond. + +"I could have sent you under the care of Mr. Stanwick," continued +John, thoughtfully. "He started for the city yesterday--but I did not +receive Madame Whitney's letter in time." + +He did not notice, as he spoke, that the occupant in the seat directly +in front of them gave a perceptible start, drawing the broad slouch +hat he wore, which concealed his features so well, still further over +his face, while a cruel smile lingered for a moment about the handsome +mouth. + +The stranger appeared deeply interested in the columns of the paper he +held before him; but in reality he was listening attentively to the +conversation going on behind him. + +"I shall not lose sight of this pretty little girl," said Lester +Stanwick to himself, for it was he. "No power on earth shall save her +from me. I shall win her from him--by fair means or foul. It will be a +glorious revenge!" + +"Madame Whitney's seminary is a very high-toned institution," +continued John, reflectively; "and the young girls I saw there wore no +end of furbelows and ribbons; but I'll warrant for fresh, sweet beauty +you'll come out ahead of all of 'em, Pet." + +"You think so much of me, dear good old uncle," cried Daisy, +gratefully. "I--I wonder if any one in the world could ever--could +ever care for me as--as you do?" whispered Daisy, laying her soft, +warm cheek against his rough hand. + +"No one but a husband," he responded, promptly. "But you are too young +to have such notions in your head yet awhile. Attend to your books, +and don't think of beaus. Now that we are on the subject, I might as +well speak out what I've had on my mind some time back. I don't want +my little Daisy to fall in love with any of these strangers she +happens to meet. You are too young to know anything about love +affairs. You'll never rightly understand it until it comes to you. I +must know all about the man who wants my little Daisy. Whatever you +do, little one, do upright and honestly. And, above all, never deceive +me. I have often heard of these romantic young school-girls falling in +love with handsome strangers, and clandestine meetings following, +ending in elopements; but, mark my words, no good comes of these +deceptions--forewarned is forearmed. Daisy, you'll always remember my +words, and say to yourself: 'He knows what is best.' You will remember +what I say, won't you, Pet?" + +He wondered why the fair, sweet face grew as pale as a snow-drop, and +the cold little fingers trembled in his clasp, and the velvety eyes +drooped beneath his earnest gaze. + +"Yes," whispered Daisy; "I shall remember what you have said." + +In spite of her efforts to speak naturally and calmly the sweet voice +would tremble. + +"Bal--ti--more!" shouted the brakeman, lustily. "Twenty minutes for +breakfast. Change cars for the north and west!" + +"Ah, here we are!" cried John, hastily gathering up their satchels and +innumerable bundles. "We must make haste to reach the uptown omnibus +to get a seat, or we shall have to stand and cling to the strap all +the way up. I'm an old traveler, you see. There's nothing like knowing +the ins and outs." + +"Have a coach uptown, sir? Take you to any part of the city. Coach, +sir?" cried innumerable hackmen, gathering about them. + +Daisy tightened her hold on John's arm. She quite believed they +intended to pick her up and put her in the coach by main force. One of +them was actually walking off with her reticule. + +"Hold there, young man," cried John, quickly, recovering the satchel. +"Don't make yourself uneasy on our account. We would be pleased to +ride in your conveyance if you don't charge anything. We have no +money." + +The loquacious hackmen fell back as if by magic. Daisy was blushing +like a rose, terribly embarrassed. John Brooks laughed long and +heartily. + +"That's the quickest way in the world to rid yourself of those +torments," he declared, enjoying his little joke hugely. "Why, Daisy, +if you had come on alone some of those chaps would have spirited you +away without even saying so much as 'by your leave.'" + +Mme. Whitney's Seminary for Young Ladies was a magnificent structure, +situated in the suburbs of Baltimore. On either side of the pebbled +walk which led to the main entrance were tall fountains tossing their +rainbow-tinted sprays up to the summer sunshine. The lawn in front was +closely shaven, and through the trees in the rear of the building +could be seen the broad rolling Chesapeake dancing and sparkling in +the sunlight. The reputation of this institution was second to none. +Young ladies were justly proud of being able to say they finished +their education at Mme. Whitney's establishment. + +As a natural consequence, the school was composed of the _élite_ of +the South. Clang! clang! clang! sounded the great bell from the belfry +as Daisy, with a sinking, homesick feeling stealing over her, walked +slowly up the paved walk by John Brooks' side toward the imposing, +aristocratic structure. + +Poor little Daisy never forgot that first day at boarding-school; how +all the dainty young girls in their soft white muslins glanced in +surprise at her when Mme. Whitney brought her into the school-room, +but she could have forgiven them for that if they had not laughed at +her poor old uncle John, in his plain country garb, and they giggled +behind their handkerchiefs when she clung to his neck and could not +say good-bye through her tears, but sunk down into her seat, leaning +her head on her desk, bravely trying to keep back the pearly drops +that would fall. + +When recess came Daisy did not leave her seat. She would have given +the world to have heard Rex's voice just then; she was beginning to +realize how much his sheltering love was to her. She would even have +been heartily glad to have been back in the little kitchen at the +cottage, no matter how much Septima scolded her. + +All the girls here had the same haughty way of tossing their heads and +curling their lips and looking innumerable things out of their eyes, +which reminded Daisy so strongly of Pluma Hurlhurst. + +Most of the girls had left the school-room, dividing off into groups +and pairs here and there. Daisy sat watching them, feeling wretchedly +lonely. Suddenly a soft white hand was laid lightly on her shoulder, +and a sweet voice said: + +"We have a recess of fifteen minutes, won't you come out into the +grounds with me? I should be so pleased to have you come." The voice +was so gentle, so coaxing, so sweet, Daisy involuntarily glanced up at +the face of the young girl bending over her as she arose to accompany +her. She put her arm around Daisy's waist, school-girl fashion, as +they walked down the lone halls and out to the green grassy lawn. "My +name is Sara Miller," she said; "will you tell me yours?" + +"Daisy Brooks," she answered, simply. + +"What a pretty name!" cried her new-found friend, enthusiastically, +"and how well it suits you! Why, it is a little poem in itself." + +Daisy flushed as rosy as the crimson geraniums near them, remembering +Rex, her own handsome Rex, had said the same thing that morning he had +carried her heavy basket to the gates of Whitestone Hall--that morning +when all the world seemed to change as she glanced up into his merry +brown eyes. + +"We are to be room-mates," explained Sara, "and I know I shall like +you ever so much. Do you think you will like me?" + +"Yes," said Daisy. "I like you now." + +"Thank you," said Miss Sara, making a mock courtesy. "I am going to +love you with all my might, and if you don't love me you will be the +most ungrateful creature in the world. I know just how lonesome you +must be," continued Sara. "I remember just how lonesome I was the +first day I was away from mamma, and when night set in and I was all +alone, and I knew I was securely locked in, I was actually thinking of +tearing the sheets of my bed into strips and making a rope of them, +and letting myself down to the ground through the window, and making +for home as fast as I could. I knew I would be brought back the next +day, though," laughed Sara. "Mamma is so strict with me. I suppose +yours is too?" + +"I have no mother--or father," answered Daisy. "All my life I have +lived with John Brooks and his sister Septima, on the Hurlhurst +Plantation. I call them aunt and uncle. Septima has often told me no +relationship at all existed between us." + +"You are an orphan, then?" suggested the sympathetic Sara. "Is there +no one in all the world related to you?" + +"Yes--no--o," answered Daisy, confusedly, thinking of Rex, her young +husband, and of the dearest relationship in all the world which +existed between them. + +"What a pity," sighed Sara. "Well, Daisy," she cried, impulsively, +throwing both her arms around her and giving her a hearty kiss, "you +and I will be all the world to each other. I shall tell you all my +secrets and you must tell me yours. There's some girls you can trust, +and some you can't. If you tell them your secrets, the first time you +have a spat your secret is a secret no longer. Every girl in the +school knows all about it; of course you are sure to make up again. +But," added Sara, with a wise expression, "after you are once +deceived, you can never trust them again." + +"I have never known many girls," replied Daisy. "I do not know how +others do, but I'm sure you can always trust my friendship." + +And the two girls sealed their compact with a kiss, just as the great +bell in the belfry rang, warning them they must be at their lessons +again--recess was over. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +In one of the private offices of Messrs. Tudor, Peck & Co., the shrewd +Baltimore detectives, stood Rex, waiting patiently until the senior +member of the firm should be at leisure. + +"Now, my dear sir, I will attend you with pleasure," said Mr. Tudor, +sealing and dispatching the note he had just finished, and motioning +Rex to a seat. + +"I shall be pleased if you will permit me to light a cigar," said Rex, +taking the seat indicated. + +"Certainly, certainly; smoke, if you feel so inclined, by all means," +replied the detective, watching with a puzzled twinkle in his eye the +fair, boyish face of his visitor. "No, thank you," he said, as Rex +tendered him an Havana; "I never smoke during business hours." + +"I wish to engage your services to find out the whereabouts +of--of--of--my wife," said Rex, hesitatingly. "She has left +me--suddenly--she fled--on the very night of our marriage!" + +It hurt Rex's pride cruelly to make this admission, and a painful +flush crept up into the dark rings of hair lying on his white +forehead. + +Mr. Tudor was decidedly amazed. He could not realize how any sane +young woman could leave so handsome a young fellow as the one before +him. In most cases the shoe was on the other foot; but he was too +thoroughly master of his business to express surprise in his face. He +merely said: + +"Go on, sir; go on!" + +And Rex did go on, never sparing himself in describing how he urged +Daisy to marry him on the night of the fête, and of their parting, and +the solemn promise to meet on the morrow, and of his wild grief--more +bitter than death--when he had found the cottage empty. + +"It reads like the page of a romance," said Rex, with a dreary smile, +leaning his head on his white hand. "But I must find her!" he cried, +with energy. "I shall search the world over for her. If it takes every +cent of my fortune, I shall find Daisy!" + +Rex looked out of the window at the soft, fleecy clouds overhead, +little dreaming Daisy was watching those self-same clouds, scarcely a +stone's throw from the very spot where he sat, and at that moment he +was nearer Daisy than he would be for perhaps years again, for the +strong hand of Fate was slowly but surely drifting them asunder. + +For some moments neither spoke. + +"Perhaps," said Mr. Tudor, breaking the silence, "there was a previous +lover in the case?" + +"I am sure there was not!" said Rex, eagerly. + +Still the idea was new to him. He adored Daisy with a mad, idolatrous +adoration, almost amounting to worship, and a love so intense is +susceptible to the poisonous breath of jealousy, and jealousy ran in +Rex's veins. He could not endure the thought of Daisy's--his +Daisy's--eyes brightening or her cheek flushing at the approach of a +rival--that fair, flower-like face, sweet and innocent as a +child's--Daisy, whom he so madly loved. + +"Well," said Mr. Tudor, as Rex arose to depart, "I will do all I can +for you. Leave your address, please, in case I should wish to +communicate with you." + +"I think I shall go back to Allendale, remaining there at least a +month or so. I have a strong conviction Daisy might come back, or at +least write to me there." + +Mr. Tudor jotted down the address, feeling actually sorry for the +handsome young husband clinging to such a frail straw of hope. In his +own mind, long before Rex had concluded his story, he had settled his +opinion--that from some cause the young wife had fled from him with +some rival, bitterly repenting her mad, hasty marriage. + +"I have great faith in your acknowledged ability," said Rex, grasping +Mr. Tudor's outstretched hand. "I shall rest my hopes upon your +finding Daisy. I can not, will not, believe she is false. I would as +soon think of the light of heaven playing me false as my sweet little +love!" + + * * * * * + +The dark mantle of night had folded its dusky wings over the inmates +of the seminary. All the lights were out in the young ladies' +rooms--as the nine-o'clock call, "All lights out!" had been called +some ten minutes before--all the lights save one, flickering, dim, and +uncertain, from Daisy's window. + +"Oh, dear!" cried Daisy, laying her pink cheek down on the letter she +was writing to Rex, "I feel as though I could do something _very_ +desperate to get away from here--and--and--back to Rex. Poor fellow!" +she sighed, "I wonder what he thought, as the hours rolled by and I +did not come? Of course he went over to the cottage," she mused, "and +Septima must have told him where I had gone. Rex will surely come for +me to-morrow," she told herself, with a sweet, shy blush. + +She read and reread the letter her trembling little hands had penned +with many a heart-flutter. It was a shy, sweet little letter, +beginning with "Dear Mr. Rex," and ending with, "Yours sincerely, +Daisy." It was just such a dear, timid letter as many a pure, +fresh-hearted loving young girl would write, brimful of the love which +filled her guileless heart for her handsome, debonair Rex--with many +allusions to the secret between them which weighed so heavily on her +heart, sealing her lips for his dear sake. + +After sealing and directing her precious letter, and placing it in the +letter-bag which hung at the lower end of the corridor, Daisy hurried +back to her own apartment and crept softly into her little white bed, +beside Sara, and was soon fast asleep, dreaming of Rex and a dark, +haughty, scornful face falling between them and the sunshine--the +cold, mocking face of Pluma Hurlhurst. + +Mme. Whitney, as was her custom, always looked over the out-going +mail early in the morning, sealing the letters of which she approved, +and returning, with a severe reprimand, those which did not come up to +the standard of her ideas. + +"What is this?" she cried, in amazement, turning the letter Daisy had +written in her hand. "Why, I declare, it is actually sealed!" Without +the least compunction she broke the seal, grimly scanning its contents +from beginning to end. If there was anything under the sun the madame +abominated it was love-letters. + +It was an established fact that no tender _billets-doux_ found their +way from the academy; the argus-eyed madame was too watchful for +that. + +With a lowering brow, she gave the bell-rope a hasty pull. + +"Jenkins," she said to the servant answering her summons, "send Miss +Brooks to me here at once!" + +"Poor little thing!" cried the sympathetic Jenkins to herself. "I +wonder what in the world is amiss now? There's fire in the madame's +eye. I hope she don't intend to scold poor little Daisy Brooks." +Jenkins had taken a violent fancy to the sweet-faced, golden-haired, +timid young stranger. + +"It must be something terrible, I'm sure!" cried Sara, when she heard +the madame had sent for Daisy; while poor Daisy's hand trembled +so--she could scarcely tell why--that she could hardly bind up the +golden curls that fell down to her waist in a wavy, shining sheen. + +Daisy never once dreamed her letter was the cause of her unexpected +summons, until she entered Mme. Whitney's presence and saw it +opened--yes, opened--her own sacred, loving letter to Rex--in her +hand. + +Daisy was impulsive, and her first thought was to grasp her precious +letter and flee to her own room. How dared the madame open the +precious letter she had intended only for Rex's eyes! + +"Miss Brooks," began madame, impressively, "I suppose I am right in +believing this epistle belongs to you?" + +A great lump rose in Daisy's throat. + +"Yes, madame," answered Daisy, raising her dark-blue eyes pleadingly +to the stern face before her. + +"And may I ask by what right you dared violate the rules and +regulations of this establishment by sending a sealed letter to--a +man? Your guardian strictly informed me you had no correspondents +whatever, and I find this is a--I blush to confess it--actually a +love-letter. What have you to say in reference to your folly, Miss +Brooks?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," sobbed Daisy. + +"You don't know?" repeated madame, scornfully. "Not a very satisfactory +explanation. Well, Miss Brooks, I have fully determined what steps I +shall take in the matter. I shall read this letter this morning before +the whole school; it will afford me an excellent opportunity to point +out the horrible depths to which young girls are plunged by allowing +their minds to wander from their books to such thoughts as are here +expressed. What do you mean by this secret to which you allude so +often?" she asked, suddenly. + +"Please do not ask me, madame," sobbed Daisy; "I can not tell +you--indeed I can not. I dare not!" + +An alarming thought occurred to madame. + +"Speak, girl!" she cried, hoarsely, grasping her firmly by the +shoulder. "I must know the meaning of this secret which is so +appalling. You fear to reveal it! Does your guardian know of it?" + +"No--o!" wailed Daisy; "I could not tell him. I must keep the +secret." + +Poor little innocent Daisy! her own words had convicted her beyond all +pardon in the eyes of shrewd, suspicious Mme. Whitney, who guessed, as +is usually the case, wide of the mark, as to the cause of the secret +Daisy dare not to reveal to her guardian or herself. + +"My duty is plain in this case," said madame. "I shall read this as a +terrible warning to the young ladies of this institution; then I will +send for Mr. John Brooks, your guardian, and place this letter in his +hands." + +"Oh, no, madame, in pity's name, no!" sobbed Daisy, wildly, kneeling +imploringly at her feet, her heart beating tumultuously, and her hands +locked convulsively together. "Do not, madame, I pray you; anything +but that; he would cast me out of his heart and home, and I--I could +not go to Rex, you see." + +But madame did not see. She laughed a little hard, metallic laugh that +grated, oh, so cruelly, on Daisy's sensitive nerves. + +When one woman's suspicions are aroused against another, Heaven help +the suspected one; there is little mercy shown her. + +"Man's inhumanity to man" is nothing compared to woman's inhumanity to +woman. + +Mme. Whitney had discovered a capital way to score a hit in the +direction of morality. + +"No," she said, laying the letter down on the table before her. "Arise +from your knees, Miss Brooks. Your prayers are useless. I think this +will be a life-long lesson to you." + +"Oh, madame, for the love of Heaven!" cried Daisy, rocking herself to +and fro, "spare me, I beseech you! Can nothing alter your purpose?" + +"Well," said madame, reflectively, "I may not be quite so severe with +you if you will confess, unreservedly, the whole truth concerning this +terrible secret, and what this young man Rex is to you." + +"I can not," wailed Daisy, "I can not. Oh, my heart is breaking, yet I +dare not." + +"Very well," said madame, rising, indicating the conversation was at +an end, "I shall not press you further on the subject. I will excuse +you now, Miss Brooks. You may retire to your room." + +Still Daisy rocked herself to and fro on her knees at her feet. +Suddenly a daring thought occurred to her. The letter which had caused +her such bitter woe lay on the table almost within her very grasp--the +letter, every line of which breathed of her pure, sacred love for +Rex--her Rex--whom she dared not even claim. She could imagine madame +commenting upon every word and sentence, ridiculing those tender +expressions which had been such rapturous joy to her hungry little +heart as she had penned them. And, last of all, and far the most +bitter thought, how dear old John Brooks would turn his honest eyes +upon her tell-tale face, demanding to know what the secret was--the +secret which she had promised her young husband she would not reveal, +come what would. If his face should grow white and stern, and those +lips, which had blessed, praised, and petted, but never scolded +her--if those lips should curse her, she would die then and there at +his feet. In an instant she had resolved upon a wild, hazardous plan. +Quick as a flash of lightning Daisy sprung to her feet and tore the +coveted letter from madame's detaining grasp; the door stood open, and +with the fleetness of a hunted deer she flew down the corridor, never +stopping for breath until she had gained the very water's edge. + +Mme. Whitney gave a loud shriek and actually fainted, and the +attendant, who hurried to the scene, caught but a glimpse of a white, +terrified, beautiful face, and a cloud of flying golden hair. No one +in that establishment ever gazed upon the face of Daisy Brooks again! + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +"Where is Miss Brooks?" cried Mme. Whitney, excitedly, upon opening +her eyes. "Jenkins," she cried, motioning to the attendant who stood +nearest her, "see that Miss Brooks is detained in her own room under +lock and key until I am at liberty to attend to her case." + +The servants looked at one another in blank amazement. No one dared +tell her Daisy had fled. + +The torn envelope, which Daisy had neglected to gain possession of, +lay at her feet. + +With a curious smile Mme. Whitney smoothed it out carefully, and +placed it carefully away in her private desk. + +"Rex Lyon," she mused, knitting her brow. "Ah, yes, that was the name, +I believe. He must certainly be the one. Daisy Brooks shall suffer +keenly for this outrage," cried the madame, grinding her teeth with +impotent rage. "I shall drag her pride down to the very dust beneath +my feet. How dare the little rebel defy my orders? I shall have her +removed to the belfry-room; a night or two there will humble her +pride, I dare say," fumed the madame, pacing up and down the room. "I +have brought worse tempers than hers into subjection; still I never +dreamed the little minx would dare openly defy _me_ in that manner. I +shall keep her in the belfry-room, under lock and key, until she asks +my pardon on her bended knees; and what is more, I shall wrest the +secret from her--the secret she has defied me to discover." + + * * * * * + +On sped Daisy, as swift as the wind, crushing the fatal letter in her +bosom, until she stood at the very edge of the broad, glittering +Chesapeake. The rosy-gold rays of the rising sun lighted up the waves +with a thousand arrowy sparkles like a vast sea of glittering, waving +gold. Daisy looked over her shoulder, noting the dark forms hurrying +to and fro. + +"They are searching for me," she said, "but I will never go back to +them--never!" + +She saw a man's form hurrying toward her. At that moment she beheld, +moored in the shadow of a clump of alders at her very feet, a small +boat rocking to and fro with the tide. Daisy had a little boat of her +own at home; she knew how to use the oars. + +"They will never think of looking for me out on the water," she cried, +triumphantly, and quickly untying it, she sprung into the little +skiff, and seizing the oars, with a vigorous stroke the little shell +shot rapidly out into the shimmering water, Daisy never once pausing +in her mad, impetuous flight until the dim line of the shore was +almost indistinguishable from the blue arching dome of the horizon. +"There," she cried, flushed and excited, leaning on the oars; "no one +could possibly think of searching for me out here." + +Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes danced like stars, while the +freshening breeze blew her bright shining hair to and fro. + +Many a passing fisherman cast admiring glances at the charming little +fairy, so sweet and so daring, out all alone on the smiling, +treacherous, dancing waves so far away from the shore. But if Daisy +saw them, she never heeded them. + +"I shall stay here until it is quite dark," she said to herself; "they +will have ceased to look for me by that time. I can reach the shore +quite unobserved, and watch for Sara to get my hat and sacque; and +then"--a rosy flush stole up to the rings of her golden hair as she +thought what she would do then--"I shall go straight back to Rex--my +husband!" + +She knew John Brooks would not return home for some time to come, and +she would not go back to Septima. She made up her mind she would +certainly go to Rex. She would wait at the depot, and, if Rex did not +come in on the early train, she would go back at once to Allendale. +Her purse, with twenty dollars in it--which seemed quite a fortune to +Daisy--was luckily in her pocket, together with half of an apple and a +biscuit. The healthful exercise of rowing, together with the fresh, +cool breeze, gave Daisy a hearty appetite, and the apple and biscuit +afforded her quite a pleasant lunch. + +Poor Daisy! The pretty little girl-bride had no more thought of danger +than a child. She had no premonition that every moment the little +boat, drifting rapidly along with the tide, was bearing her rapidly +onward toward death and destruction. + +Daisy paid little heed to the dark rolling clouds that were slowly +obscuring the brilliant sunshine, or the swirl and dash of the waves +that were rocking her little boat so restlessly to and fro. The hours +seemed to slip heedlessly by her. The soft gloaming seemed to fall +about her swiftly and without warning. + +"I must turn my boat about at once!" cried Daisy, in alarm. "I am +quite a long way from the shore!" + +At that moment the distant rumbling roar of thunder sounded dismally +over the leaden-gray, white-capped water; and the wind, rising +instantly into a fierce gale, hurled the dark storm-clouds across the +sky, blotting the lurid glow of sunset and mantling the heavens above +her in its dusky folds. + +Daisy was brave of heart, but in the face of such sudden and +unlooked-for danger her courage failed her. The pretty rose-bloom +died away from her face, and her beautiful blue eyes expanded wide +with terror. She caught her breath with a sob, and, seizing the oar +with two soft, childish hands, made a desperate attempt to turn the +boat. The current resisted her weak effort, snapping the oar in twain +like a slender twig and whirling it from her grasp. + +"Rex! Rex!" she cried out, piteously, stretching out her arms, "save +me! Oh, I am lost--lost! Heaven pity me!" + +The night had fallen swiftly around her. Out, alone, on the wild, +pitiless, treacherous waves--alone with the storm and the darkness! + +The storm had now commenced in earnest, beating furiously against the +little boat, and lashing the mad waves into seething foam as they +dashed high above the terrified girl. No sound could be heard above +the wild warring of the elements--the thunder's roar, the furious +lashing of the waves and the white, radiant lightning blazing across +the vast expanse of water, making the scene sublime in its terrible +grandeur. + +"Rex! my love, my life!" she cried, in the intense agony of despair, +"you will never know how well I loved you! I have faced death rather +than betray the sweet, sad secret--I am your wife!" + +Was it the wild flashing of the lightning, or was it a red light she +saw swinging to and fro, each moment drawing rapidly nearer and +nearer? Heaven be praised! it was a barge of some kind; help was +within her reach. + +"Help!" cried Daisy, faintly. "Help! I am alone out on the water!" she +held out her arms toward the huge vessel which loomed up darkly before +her, but the terrified voice was drowned by the fierce beating of the +storm. + +Suddenly her little boat spun round and round, the swift water was +drawing her directly in the path of the barge; another moment and it +would be upon her; she beat the air with her white hands, gazing with +frozen horror at the fatal lights drawing nearer and nearer. + +"Rex, my love, good-bye!" she wailed, sinking down in the bottom of +the boat as one end of the barge struck it with tremendous force. + + * * * * * + +Leaning over the railing, evidently unmindful of the fierce fury +of the storm that raged around him, stood a young man, gazing +abstractedly over the wild dashing waves. A dark smile played about +the corners of his mouth, and his restless eyes wore a pleased +expression, as though his thoughts were in keeping with the wild, +warring elements. + +Suddenly, through the terrible roar of the storm, he heard a piteous +appeal for help, and the voice seemed to die away over the angry, +muttering waves. He leaned over the railing breathless with +excitement. The thunder crashed almost incessantly, and there came a +stunning bolt, followed by a blinding blaze of lightning. In that one +instant he had seen a white, childish face, framed in a mass of +floating golden hair, turned toward him. + +One instant more and she would be swept beneath the ponderous wheel, +beyond all mortal power of help; then the dark, hungry waters closed +cruelly over her, but in that one instantaneous glance the man's face +had turned deadly pale. + +"Great God!" he shrieked, hoarsely, "it is Daisy Brooks!" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +On the evening which followed the one just described in our last +chapter, Pluma Hurlhurst sat in her luxuriant boudoir of rose and +gold, deeply absorbed in the three letters which she held in her lap. +To one was appended the name of Septima Brooks, one was from Rex's +mother, and the last--and by far the most important one--bore the +signature of Lester Stanwick. + +Once, twice, thrice she perused it, each time with growing interest, +the glittering light deepening in her dark, flashing eyes, and the red +lips curling in a scornful smile. + +"This is capital!" she cried, exultingly; "even better than I had +planned. I could not see my way clear before, but now everything is +clear sailing." She crossed over to the mirror, looking long and +earnestly at the superb figure reflected there. "I am fair to look +upon," she cried, bitterly. "Why can not Rex love me?" + +Ah! she was fair to look upon, standing beneath the softened glow of +the overhanging chandelier, in her dress of gold brocade, with a +pomegranate blossom on her bosom, and a diamond spray flashing from +the dark, glossy curls, magnificently beautiful. + +"I was so sure of Rex," she said, bitterly; "if any one had said to +me, 'Rex prefers your overseer's niece, Daisy Brooks, with her baby +face and pink-and-white beauty,' I would have laughed them to scorn. +Prefers her to me, the haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, for whose +love, or even smile, men have sued in vain! I have managed the whole +affair very cleverly!" she mused. "John Brooks does not return before +the coming spring, and Septima is removed from my path most +effectually, and if Lester Stanwick manages his part successfully, I +shall have little to fear from Daisy Brooks! How clever Lester was to +learn Rex had been to the Detective Agency! How he must have loved +that girl!" she cried, hotly, with a darkening brow. "Ah, Rex!" she +whispered, softly (and for an instant the hard look died out of her +face), "no one shall take you from me. I would rather look upon your +face cold in death, and know no one else could claim you, than see you +smile lovingly upon a rival. There is no torture under heaven so +bitter to endure as the pangs of a love unreturned!" she cried, +fiercely. She threw open the window and leaned far out into the +radiant starlight, as the great clock pealed the hour of seven. "Rex +has received my note," she said, "with the one from his mother +inclosed. Surely he will not refuse my request. He will come, if only +through politeness!" Again she laughed, that low, mocking laugh +peculiar to her, as she heard the peal of the bell. "It is Rex," she +whispered, clasping her hands over her beating heart. "To-night I will +sow the first seeds of distrust in your heart, and when they take root +you shall despise Daisy Brooks a thousand-fold more than you love her +now. She shall feel the keen thrust of a rival's bitter vengeance!" + +Casting a last lingering glance (so woman-like!) at the perfect face +the mirror reflected, to give her confidence in herself for the coming +ordeal, Pluma Hurlhurst glided down to the parlor, where Rex awaited +her. + +It would have been hard to believe the proud, willful, polished young +heiress could lend herself to a plot so dark and so cruel as the one +she was at that moment revolving in her fertile brain. + +Rex was standing at the open window, his handsome head leaning wearily +against the casement. His face was turned partially toward her, and +Pluma could scarcely repress the cry of astonishment that rose to her +lips as she saw how pale and haggard he looked in the softened light. +She knew but too well the cause. + +He was quite unaware of Pluma's presence until a soft, white, jeweled +hand was laid lightly on his arm, and a low, musical voice whispered, +"I am so glad you have come, Rex," close to his elbow. + +They had parted under peculiar circumstances. He could fancy her at +that moment kneeling to him, under the glare of the lamp-light, +confessing her love for him, and denouncing poor little clinging Daisy +with such bitter scorn. His present position was certainly an +embarrassing one to Rex. + +"I am here in accordance with your request, Miss Hurlhurst," he said, +simply, bowing coldly over the white hand that would cling to his +arm. + +"You are very kind," she said, sweetly, "to forget that unpleasant +little episode that happened at the fête, and come to-night. I believe +I should never have sent for you," she added, archly, smiling up into +his face, "had it not been at the urgent request of your mother, +Rex." + +Pluma hesitated. Rex bit his lip in annoyance, but he was too +courteous to openly express his thoughts; he merely bowed again. He +meant Pluma should understand all thoughts of love or tenderness must +forever more be a dead letter between them. + +"My mother!" he repeated, wonderingly; "pardon me, I do not +understand." + +For answer she drew his mother's letter from her bosom and placed it +in his hands. + +He ran his eyes quickly over the page. The postscript seemed to +enlighten him. + +"The course of true love never runs smooth," it ran, "and I beseech +you, Pluma dear, if anything should ever happen, any shadow fall upon +your love, I beseech you send for Rex and place this letter in his +hands. It would not be unwomanly, Pluma, because I, his mother, so +earnestly request it; for, on your love for each other hangs my hopes +of happiness. Rex is impulsive and willful, but he will respect his +mother's wishes." + +No thought of treachery ever crossed Rex's mind as he read the lines +before him; he never once dreamed the ingeniously worded postscript +had been so cleverly imitated and added by Pluma's own hand. It never +occurred to him for an instant to doubt the sincerity of the words he +read, when he knew how dearly his mother loved the proud, haughty +heiress before him. + +"I heard you were going away, Rex," she said, softly, "and I--I could +not let you go so, and break my own heart." + +"In one sense, I am glad you sent for me," said Rex, quietly ignoring +her last remark. "I shall be much pleased to renew our friendship, +Miss Pluma, for I need your friendship--nay, more, I need your +sympathy and advice more than I can express. I have always endeavored +to be frank with you, Pluma," he said, kindly. "I have never spoken +words which might lead you to believe I loved you." + +He saw her face grow white under his earnest gaze and the white lace +on her bosom rise and fall convulsively, yet she made him no answer. + +"Please permit me to tell you why, Pluma," he said, taking her hand +and leading her to a sofa, taking a seat by her side. "I could not," +he continued, "in justice to either you or myself; for I never knew +what love was," he said, softly, "until the night of the fête." Again +he paused; but, as no answer was vouchsafed him, he went on: "I never +knew what love meant until I met Daisy--little Daisy Brooks." + +"Rex!" cried Pluma, starting to her feet, "you know not what you +say--surely you do not know! I would have warned you, but you would +not listen. I saw you drifting toward a yawning chasm; I stretched out +my arms to save you, but you would not heed me. You are a stranger to +the people around here, Rex, or they would have warned you. Sin is +never so alluring as in the guise of a beautiful woman. It is not too +late yet. Forget Daisy Brooks; she is not a fit companion for noble +Rex Lyon, or pure enough to kiss an honest man's lips." + +"For God's sake, Miss Hurlhurst, what do you mean?" cried Rex, slowly +rising from his seat and facing her, pale as death. "In Heaven's name, +explain the accusations you have just uttered, or I shall go mad! If a +man had uttered those words, I would have--" + +The words died away on his lips; he remembered he was talking to a +woman. Rex's eyes fairly glowed with rage as he turned on his heel and +strode rapidly up and down the room. + +"Rex," said Pluma, softly advancing a step toward him, "it always +grieves a true woman to admit the error of a fallen sister--they would +shield her if such a thing were possible." + +"I do not believe it," retorted Rex, impetuously. "Women seem to take +a keen delight in slandering one another, as far as I can see. But you +might as well tell me yonder moon was treacherous and vile as to tell +me Daisy Brooks was aught but sweet and pure--you could not force me +to believe it." + +"I do not attempt to force you to believe it. I have told you the +truth, as a loving sister might have done. None are so blind as those +who will not see," she said, toying with the jewels upon her white +fingers. + +"Daisy Brooks is as pure as yonder lily," cried Rex, "and I love her +as I love my soul!" + +His quivering, impassioned voice thrilled Pluma to her heart's core, +and she felt a keen regret that this wealth of love was withheld from +her own hungry heart. Rex had never appeared so noble, so handsome, +so well worth winning, in her eyes, as at that moment. + +"I am sorry for you, Rex," sobbed Pluma, artfully burying her face in +her lace kerchief, "because she can never return your love; she does +not love you, Rex." + +"Yes, she does love me," cried Rex. "I have settled it beyond a +doubt." + +"She has settled it beyond a doubt--is not that what you mean, Rex?" +she asked, looking him squarely in the face, with a peculiar glitter +in her sparkling dark eyes. + +"There is something you are keeping from me, Pluma," cried Rex, +seizing both of her hands, and gazing anxiously into the false, fair, +smiling, treacherous face. "You know where Daisy has gone--in Heaven's +name, tell me! I can not endure the suspense--do not torture me, +Pluma! I will forget you have spoken unkindly of poor little Daisy if +you will only tell me where she has gone." + +"Sit down, Rex," she said, soothingly; "I will not dare tell you while +you look at me with such a gleaming light in your eyes. Promise not to +interrupt me to the end." + +A nameless dread was clutching at his heart-strings. What could she +mean? he asked himself, confusedly. What did this foul mystery mean? +He must know, or he would go mad! + +"You may speak out unreservedly, Miss Pluma," he said, hoarsely. "I +give you my word, as a gentleman, I shall not interrupt you, even +though your words should cause me a bitter heart-pang." + +He stood before her, his arms folded across his breast, yet no pang of +remorse crept into Pluma Hurlhurst's relentless heart for the cruel +blow she was about to deal him. + +"I must begin at the time of the lawn fête," she said. "That morning +a woman begged to see me, sobbing so piteously I could not refuse +her an audience. No power of words could portray the sad story of +suffering and wrong she poured into my ears, of a niece--beautiful, +young, passionate, and willful--and of her prayers and useless +expostulations, and of a handsome, dissolute lover to whom the +girl was passionately attached, and of elopements she had frustrated, +alas! more than once. Ah! how shall I say it!--the lover was not a +marrying man." + +Pluma stopped short, and hid her face again in her kerchief as if in +utter confusion. + +"Go on--go on!" cried Rex, hoarsely. + +"'Lend me money,' cried the woman, 'that I may protect the girl by +sending her off to school at once. Kind lady, she is young, like +you, and I beg you on my knees!' I gave the woman the required +amount, and the girl was taken to school the very next day. But the +end was not there. The lover followed the girl--there must have been +a preconcerted plan between them--and on the morning after she had +entered school she fled from it--fled with her lover. That lover +was Lester Stanwick--gay, fascinating, perfidious Lester--whom you +know but too well. Can you not guess who the girl was, Rex?" + +The dark eyes regarding her were frozen with horror, his white lips +moved, but no sound issued from them. She leaned nearer to him, her +dark, perfumed hair swept across his face as she whispered, with +startling effect: + +"The girl was Daisy Brooks, and she is at this moment in company with +her lover! Heaven pity you, Rex; you must learn to forget her." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +When Daisy Brooks opened her eyes, she found herself lying on a white +bed, and in a strange apartment which she never remembered having seen +before. For one brief instant she quite imagined the terrible ordeal +through which she had passed was but a dream. Then it all came back to +her with cruel distinctness. + +"Where am I?" she cried, struggling up to a sitting posture, and +putting back the tangled golden hair from her face. "How came I here? +Who saved me from the terrible dark water?" + +"I did," answered a young man, rising from his seat by the open +window. "I saved your life at the risk of my own. Look up into my +face, Daisy, and see if you do not remember me." + +She lifted her blue eyes to the dark, handsome, smiling face before +her. Yes, she had seen that face before, but she could not remember +where. + +He laughed, disclosing his handsome white teeth. + +"You can not guess, eh?" he said. "Then it is certainly evident I did +not make much of an impression upon you. I am disappointed. I will not +keep you in suspense, however. We met at Whitestone Hall, on the night +of the lawn fête, and my name is Lester Stanwick." + +Ah, she _did_ remember him, standing beneath a waving palm-tree, his +bold, dark eyes following her every motion, while she was waltzing +with Rex. + +He saw the flash of recognition in her eyes, and the blush that +mantled her fair, sweet face. + +"I am very grateful to you, sir, for saving me. But won't you take me +home, please? I don't want to go back to Madame Whitney's." + +"Of course not," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, "when you left +it in such a remarkable manner as running away." + +"How did you know I ran away?" asked Daisy, flushing hotly. + +"Madame Whitney has advertised for you," he responded, promptly. + +Although he well knew what he uttered was a deliberate falsehood, he +merely guessed the little wild bird had grown weary of the restraint, +and had flown away. + +"Did she do that?" asked Daisy, thoroughly alarmed, her great blue +eyes dilating with fear. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, what shall I do? I do not +want to go back. I would sooner die first." + +"There is no occasion for you to do either," he replied. "You are in +good hands. Stay here until the storm blows over. In all probability +the madame has sent detectives out in all directions searching for +you." + +Daisy was so young, so unsuspecting, so artless, and knew so little of +the ways of the world or its intriguing people that she quite believed +his assertion. + +"Oh, what shall I do?" she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. +"Oh, I _must_ go back to Uncle John, and--to--to--" + +Stanwick had no idea she meant Rex. He took it for granted she meant +John Brooks and Septima. + +"It is quite uncertain when John Brooks returns to Allendale," he +said; "and I suppose you are aware his sister has also left the +place--gone, no one knows whither--the Brookses' cottage on the brow +of the hill stands empty." + +"Gone!" cried Daisy, catching her breath swift and hard, "did you say, +sir? Aunt Septima has gone--no one lives in the cottage?" Poor Daisy +quite believed she was losing her senses. + +"Yes," said Stanwick, smothering a low, malicious laugh, "that is what +I said; but I am quite surprised that it is news to you. You are all +alone in the world, you see. Of course you could not go back to +Allendale. You can do no better than stay in your present quarters for +at least a week or so, until you fully recover from your mad frolic on +the water and gain a little strength." + + * * * * * + +"Where am I?" asked Daisy, "and how did I get here? and who lives +here?" + +"One question at a time, if you please," laughed Stanwick, gazing +admiringly at the beautiful, questioning, eager face. + +"I suppose," he began, with provoking coolness, "you have been filling +that little head of yours with romantic ideas of running away from +school, and sailing far out to sea, and straight into the arms of some +handsome hero who would save you, and would carry you off to some +castle, and turn out to be a prince in disguise! That's the way they +usually turn out, isn't it? But you found the theory did not work very +well in real life, and your little romance came near costing you your +life--eh, Miss Daisy? As for the second question, I rescued you, just +in the nick of time, by jumping into the turbulent waves and bearing +you out of harm's way and keeping that little romantic head of yours +above water until the barge could be stopped, and you were then +brought on board. I recognized you at once," he continued; "and to +prevent suspicion and inquiry, which would have been sure to follow, I +claimed you--as my wife! Do not be alarmed," he said, as a sharp, +horrified cry rose to the red lips. "I simply did that in order to +protect you from being returned at once in bitter disgrace to Madame +Whitney's. Not knowing what else to do with you when the boat landed, +I brought you here, and here you have been ever since, quite +unconscious up to date." + +"Was it last night you brought me here?" asked Daisy. + +"You are not good at guessing. You have been here two nights and two +days." + +"But who lives here?" persisted Daisy. "Is this your house?" + +"Oh, dear, no," laughed Stanwick. "Upon my honor, you are not very +complimentary to my taste," he said, glancing around the meagerly +furnished apartment. "As near as I can understand it, the house is +occupied by three grim old maids. Each looks to be the twin of the +other. This was the first shelter I could find, and I had carried you +all the way from the boat in my arms, and under the circumstances, +after much consulting, they at last agreed to allow you to remain +here. Now you have the whole story in a nutshell." + +"Why did they not send to Septima to come to me?" she asked +presently. + +"Because they thought you were with your best protector--your +husband." + +"Did you tell them that here, too?" asked Daisy, growing white and ill +with a dizzy horror. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, send for them at once, and +tell them it is not so, or I must!" she added, desperately. + +"You must do nothing of the kind, you silly child. Do you suppose they +would have sheltered you for a single instant if they had not believed +you were my wife? You do not know the ways of the world. Believe me, +it was the only course I could pursue, in that awkward dilemma, +without bringing disgrace and detection upon you." + +As if in answer to the question that was trembling upon Daisy's lips, +he continued: + +"I am stopping at a boarding-place some little distance from here. +This is not Baltimore, but a little station some sixty miles from +there. When you are well and strong you may go where you please, +although I frankly own the situation is by no means an unpleasant one +for me. I would be willing to stay here always--with you." + +"Sir!" cried Daisy, flushing as red as the climbing roses against the +window, her blue eyes blazing up with sudden fire, "do you mean to +insult me?" + +"By no means," responded Lester Stanwick, eagerly. "Indeed, I respect +and honor you too much for that. Why, I risked my life to save yours, +and shielded your honor with my name. Had I been your husband in very +truth I could not have done more." + +Daisy covered her face with her hands. + +"I thank you very much for saving me," she sobbed, "but won't you +please go away now and leave me to myself?" + +_Roué_ and villain as Lester Stanwick was, he could not help feeling +touched by the innocence and beauty of little Daisy, and from that +instant he loved her with a wild, absorbing, passionate love, and he +made a vow, then and there, that he would win her. + +From their boyhood up Rex and Lester had been rivals. At college Rex +had carried off the honors with flying colors. Pluma Hurlhurst, the +wealthy heiress, had chosen Rex in preference to himself. He stood +little chance with bright-eyed maidens compared with handsome, +careless, winning Rex Lyon. + +Quite unobserved, he had witnessed the meeting between Rex and Daisy +at the fountain, and how tenderly he clasped her in his arms as they +waltzed together in the mellow light, to the delicious strains of the +"Blue Danube," and knowing Rex as well as he did, he knew for the +first time in life Rex's heart was touched. + +"It would be a glorious revenge," Stanwick had muttered to himself, +"if I could win her from him." Then a sordid motive of revenge alone +prompted him--now he was beginning to experience the sweet thrillings +of awakened love himself. Yes, he had learned to love Daisy for her +own sweet self. + +He smiled as he thought of the last words Pluma Hurlhurst had said to +him: "Revenge is sweet, Lester, when love is turned to bitter hatred. +Help me to drag Rex Lyon's pride as low as he has this night dragged +mine, and you shall have my hand as your reward. My father is an +invalid--he can not live much longer--then you will be master of +Whitestone Hall." As he had walked down the broad gravel path, running +his eye over the vast plantation stretching afar on all sides, like a +field of snow, as the moonlight fell upon the waving cotton, he owned +to himself it was a fair domain well worth the winning. + +But as he stood there, gazing silently down upon little Daisy's +face--how strange it was--he would have given up twenty such +inheritances for the hope of making sweet little Daisy Brooks his +wife. + +It was well for Daisy Brooks he little dreamed of the great barrier +which lay between them, shutting him out completely from all thoughts +of love in Daisy's romantic heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +"Please go away," sobbed Daisy. "Leave me to myself, and I will get +up." + +"Very well," said Stanwick, involuntarily raising her little white +hands courteously to his lips; "and remember, I warn you, for your own +sake, not to dispute the assertion I have made--that you are my +wife." + +"Why?" asked Daisy, wistfully. "They will forgive me when I tell them +how it all came about." + +"You do not know women's ways," he replied. "They would hand you over +at once to the authorities; you would bring disgrace and ruin upon +your own head, and bitter shame to John Brooks's heart. I know him +well enough to believe he would never forgive you. On the other hand, +when you feel well enough to depart, you can simply say you are going +away with your husband. No one will think of detaining you; you will +be free as the wind to go where you will. It will cost you but a few +words. Remember, there are occasions when it is necessary to +prevaricate in order to prevent greater evils--this is one of them." + +Daisy could not dispute this specious logic, and she suffered herself +to be persuaded against her will and better judgment. She was +dreadfully homesick, poor little soul! and to go back to Allendale, to +Rex, was the one wish of her heart. But would he clasp her in his arms +if a shadow of disgrace blotted her fair name? She would go back to +him and kneel at his feet, and tell him why she had left Mme. +Whitney's. She certainly meant to tell him of all that followed, and, +with her little, warm cheek pressed close to his, ask him if she had +done right. + +At that moment the door of an adjoining room opened, and Lester +observed the three ladies standing in a row in the door-way. He knew +that three pairs of eyes were regarding him intently through as many +pairs of blue glasses. + +"Good-bye, my little wife," he said, raising his voice for their +benefit; "I'm off now. I shall see you again to-morrow;" and, before +Daisy had the least idea of his intentions, he had pressed a kiss upon +her rosy lips and was gone. + +The three ladies quickly advanced to the couch upon which Daisy +reclined. + +"We are very glad to find you are so much better this morning," they +exclaimed, all in a breath. "Your husband has been almost demented +about you, my dear." + +They wondered why the white face on the pillow turned so pink, then +faded to a dead white, and why the tear-drops started to her beautiful +blue eyes. + +"I was telling my sisters," pursued one of the ladies, softly, "you +were so young to be married--hardly more than a child. How old are +you, my dear--not more than sixteen, I suppose?" + +"Sixteen and a few months," answered Daisy. + +"How long have you been married, my dear?" questioned another of the +sisters. + +A great sob rose in Daisy's throat as she remembered it was just a +week that very day since she had stood in the dim old parlor at the +rectory, while Rex clasped her hands, his handsome, smiling eyes +gazing so lovingly down upon her, while the old minister spoke the +words that bound them for life to each other. It almost seemed to +Daisy that long years had intervened, she had passed through so much +since then. + +"Just a week to-day, madame," she made answer. + +"Why, you are a bride, then," they all chorused. "Ah! that accounts +for your husband's great anxiety about you. We all agreed we had never +seen a husband more devoted!" + +Daisy hid her face in the pillow. She thought she would go mad upon +being so cruelly misunderstood. Oh! if she had only dared throw +herself into their arms and sob out her heartaches on their bosoms. +Yes, she was a bride, but the most pitifully homesick, weary, +disheartened little girl-bride that ever the sun shone on in the wide, +wild world. + +They assisted Daisy to arise, brushing out her long, tangled, golden +curls, declaring to one another the pretty little creature looked more +like a merry, rosy-cheeked school-girl than a little bride-wife, in +her pink-and-white dotted muslin, which they had in the meantime done +up for her with their own hands. + +They wondered, too, why she never asked for her husband, and she +looked almost ready to faint when they spoke of him. + +"There seems to be something of a mystery here," remarked one of +the sisters when the trio were alone. "If that child is a bride, +she is certainly not a happy one. I do not like to judge a +fellow-creature--Heaven forbid! but I am sorely afraid all is not +right with her. Twice this afternoon, entering the room quietly, I +have found her lying face downward on the sofa, crying as if her +heart would break! I am sorely puzzled!" + +And the flame of suspicion once lighted was not easily extinguished in +the hearts of the curious spinsters. + +"'Won't you tell me your sorrow, my dear?' I said. + +"'No, no; I dare not!' she replied. + +"'Will you not confide in me, Mrs. Stanwick?' I asked. + +"She started up wildly, throwing her arms about my neck. + +"'Won't you please call me Daisy?' she sobbed, piteously; 'just +Daisy--nothing else.' + +"'Certainly, my dear, if you wish it,' I replied. 'There is one +question I would like to ask you, Daisy--you have told me your mother +is dead?' + +"'Yes,' she said, leaning her golden head against the window, and +watching the white clouds overhead in the blue sky--'my poor, dear +mother is dead!' + +"'Then will you answer me truthfully the question I am about to ask +you, Daisy, remembering your mother up in heaven hears you.' + +"She raised her blue eyes to mine. + +"'I shall answer truthfully any question you may put to me,' she said; +'if--if--it is not about Mr. Stanwick.' + +"'It is about yourself, Daisy,' I said, gravely. 'Tell me truthfully, +child, are you really a wife?' + +"She caught her breath with a hard, gasping sound; but her blue eyes +met mine unflinchingly. + +"'Yes, madame, I am, in the sight of God and man; but I am such an +unhappy one. I can not tell you why. My heart is breaking. I want to +go back to Allendale!' + +"'Is that where you live, Daisy?' + +"'Yes,' she said; 'I am going to start to-morrow morning.'" + +"How strange!" echoed the two sisters. + +"The strangest part of the affair is yet to come. The little creature +drew from her pocket a twenty-dollar bill. + +"'You have been kind and good to me,' she said. I must take enough to +carry me back to Allendale. You shall have all the rest, madame.' + +"'Put your money back into your pocket, Daisy,' I replied. 'Your +husband has already paid your bill. He begged me to accept it in +advance on the night you came.' + +"She gave a great start, and a flood of hot color rushed over her +face. + +"'I--I--did not know,' she said, faintly, 'how very good Mr. Stanwick +has been to me.'" + +The three sisters looked at one another in silent wonder over the rims +of their spectacles and shook their heads ominously. + + * * * * * + +Dear reader, we must return at this period to Rex--poor, broken-hearted +Rex--whom we left in the company of Pluma Hurlhurst in the spacious +parlor of Whitestone Hall. + +"Daisy Brooks is at this moment with Lester Stanwick! You must learn +to forget her, Rex," she repeated, slowly. + +A low cry escaped from Rex's lips, and he recoiled from her as though +she had struck him a heavy blow. His heart seemed fairly stifled in +his bosom, and he trembled in every limb with repressed excitement. + +"Here is a letter from Madame Whitney," she continued. "Read it for +yourself, Rex. You see, she says: 'Daisy fled. It has been since +ascertained she went to Elmwood, a station some sixty miles from here, +where she now is, at the cottage of the Burton sisters, in company +with her lover. I shall not attempt to claim her--her retribution must +come from another source.'" + +The words seemed to stand out in letters of fire. + +"Oh, my little love," he cried, "there must be some terrible mistake! +My God! my God! there must be some horrible mistake--some foul +conspiracy against you, my little sweetheart, my darling love!" + +He rose to his feet with a deep-drawn sigh, his teeth shut close, his +heart beating with great strangling throbs of pain. Strong and brave +as Rex was, this trouble was almost more than he could bear. + +"Where are you going, Rex?" said Pluma, laying a detaining hand upon +his arm. + +"I am going to Elmwood," he cried, bitterly, "to prove this accusation +is a cruel falsehood. Daisy has no lover; she is as sweet and pure as +Heaven itself! I was mad to doubt her for a single instant." + +"Judge for yourself, Rex--seeing is believing," said Pluma, +maliciously, a smoldering vengeance burning in her flashing eyes, and +a cold, cruel smile flitting across her face, while she murmured under +her breath: "Go, fond, foolish lover; your fool's paradise will be +rudely shattered--ay, your hopes crushed worse than mine are now, for +your lips can not wear a smile like mine when your heart is breaking. +Good-bye, Rex," she said, "and remember, in the hour when sorrow +strikes you keenest, turn to me; my friendship is true, and shall +never fail you." + +Rex bowed coldly and turned away; his heart was too sick for empty +words, and the heavy-hearted young man, who slowly walked down the +graveled path away from Whitestone Hall in the moonlight, was as +little like the gay, handsome Rex of one short week ago as could well +be imagined. + +There was the scent of roses and honeysuckles in the soft wind; and +some sweet-voiced bird awakened from sleep, and fancying it was day, +swung to and fro amid the green foliage, filling the night with +melody. The pitying stars shone down upon him from the moonlighted +heavens; but the still, solemn beauty of the night was lost upon Rex. +He regretted--oh! so bitterly--that he had parted from his sweet +little girl-bride, fearing his mother's scornful anger, or through a +sense of mistaken duty. + +"Had they but known little Daisy is my wife, they would have known how +impossible was their accusation that she was with Lester Stanwick." + +He shuddered at the very thought of such a possibility. + +The thought of Daisy, his little girl-bride, being sent to school +amused him. + +"Poor little robin!" he murmured. "No wonder she flew from her bondage +when she found the cage-door open! How pleased the little gypsy will +be to see me!" he mused. "I will clasp the dear little runaway in my +arms, and never let her leave me again! Mother could not help loving +my little Daisy if she were once to see her, and sister Birdie would +take to her at once." + +The next morning broke bright and clear; the sunshine drifted through +the green foliage of the trees, and crimson-breasted robins sung +their sweetest songs in the swaying boughs of the blossoming +magnolias; pansies and buttercups gemmed the distant hill-slope, and +nature's fountain--a merry, babbling brook--danced joyously through +the clover banks. No cloud was in the fair, blue, smiling heavens; no +voice of nature warned poor little Daisy, as she stood at the open +window drinking in the pure, sweet beauty of the morning of the dark +clouds which were gathering over her innocent head, and of the storm +which was so soon to burst upon her in all its fury. Daisy turned away +from the window with a little sigh. She did not see a handsome, +stalwart figure hurrying down the hill-side toward the cottage. How +her heart would have throbbed if she had only known Rex (for it was +he) was so near her! With a strangely beating heart he advanced toward +the little wicket gate, at which stood one of the sisters, busily +engaged pruning her rose-bushes. + +"Can you tell me, madame, where I can find the Misses Burton's +cottage?" he asked, courteously lifting his hat. + +"This is the Burton cottage," she answered, "and I am Ruth Burton. +What can I do for you?" + +"I would like to see Daisy Brooks, if you please. She is here, I +believe?" he said, questioningly. "May I come in?" + +Rex's handsome, boyish face and winning smile won their way straight +to the old lady's heart at once. + +"Perhaps you are the young lady's brother, sir? There is evidently +some mistake, however, as the young lady's name is Stanwick--Daisy +Stanwick. Her husband, Lester Stanwick--I believe that is the name--is +also in Elmwood." + +All the color died out of Rex's handsome face and the light from his +brown eyes. He leaned heavily against the gate-post. The words seemed +shrieked on the air and muttered on the breeze. + +"Daisy is _not_ his wife! My God, madame!" he cried, hoarsely, "she +_could not_ be!" + +"It is very true," replied the old lady, softly. "I have her own words +for it. There may be some mistake, as you say," she said, soothingly, +noting the death-like despair that settled over the noble face. "She +is a pretty, fair, winsome little creature, blue-eyed, and curling +golden hair, and lives at Allendale. She is certainly married. I will +call her. She shall tell you so herself. Daisy--Mrs. Stanwick--come +here, dear," she called. + +"I am coming, Miss Ruth," answered a sweet, bird-like voice, which +pierced poor Rex's heart to the very core as a girlish little figure +bounded through the open door-way, out into the brilliant sunshine. + +"God pity me!" cried Rex, staggering forward. "It _is_ Daisy--my +wife!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Rex had hoped against hope. + +"Daisy!" he cried, holding out his arms to her with a yearning, +passionate cry. "My God! tell me it is false--you are _not_ here with +Stanwick--or I shall go mad! Daisy, my dear little sweetheart, my +little love, why don't you speak?" he cried, clasping her close to his +heart and covering her face and hair and hands with passionate, +rapturous kisses. + +Daisy struggled out of his embrace, with a low, broken sob, flinging +herself on her knees at his feet with a sharp cry. + +"Daisy," said the old lady, bending over her and smoothing back the +golden hair from the lovely anguished face, "tell him the truth, dear. +You are here with Mr. Stanwick; is it not so?" + +The sudden weight of sorrow that had fallen upon poor, hapless Daisy +seemed to paralyze her very senses. The sunshine seemed blotted out, +and the light of heaven to grow dark around her. + +"Yes," she cried, despairingly; and it almost seemed to Daisy another +voice had spoken with her lips. + +"This Mr. Stanwick claims to be your husband?" asked the old lady, +solemnly. + +"Yes," she cried out again, in agony, "but, Rex, I--I--" + +The words died away on her white lips, and the sound died away in her +throat. She saw him recoil from her with a look of white, frozen +horror on his face which gave place to stern, bitter wrath. Slowly and +sadly he put her clinging arms away from him, folding his arms across +his breast with that terrible look upon his face such as a hero's face +wears when he has heard, unflinchingly, his death sentence--the calm +of terrible despair. + +"Daisy," he said, proudly, "I have trusted you blindly, for I loved +you madly, passionately. I would as soon believe the fair smiling +heavens that bend above us false as you whom I loved so madly and so +well. I was mad to bind you with such cruel, irksome bonds when your +heart was not mine but another's. My dream of love is shattered now. +You have broken my heart and ruined and blighted my life. God forgive +you, Daisy, for I never can! I give you back your freedom; I release +you from your vows; I can not curse you--I have loved you too well for +that; I cast you from my heart as I cast you from my life; farewell, +Daisy--farewell forever!" + +She tried to speak, but her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. +Oh, pitying Heaven, if she could only have cried out to you and the +angels to bear witness and proclaim her innocence! The strength to +move hand or foot seemed suddenly to have left her. She tried hard, +oh! so hard, to speak, but no sound issued from her white lips. She +felt as one in a horrible trance, fearfully, terribly conscious of all +that transpired around her, yet denied the power to move even a muscle +to defend herself. + +"Have you anything to say to me, Daisy?" he asked, mournfully, turning +from her to depart. + +The woful, terrified gaze of the blue eyes deepened pitifully, but she +spoke no word, and Rex turned from her--turned from the girl-bride +whom he loved so madly, with a bursting, broken heart, more bitter to +bear than death itself--left her alone with the pitying sunlight +falling upon her golden hair, and her white face turned up to heaven, +silently praying to God that she might die then and there. + +Oh, Father above, pity her! She had no mother's gentle voice to guide +her, no father's strong breast to weep upon, no sister's soothing +presence. She was so young and so pitifully lonely, and Rex had +drifted out of her life forever, believing her--oh, bitterest of +thoughts!--believing her false and sinful. + +Poor little Daisy was ignorant of the ways of the world; but a dim +realization of the full import of the terrible accusation brought +against her forced its way to her troubled brain. + +She only realized--Rex--her darling Rex, had gone out of her life +forever. + +Daisy flung herself face downward in the long, cool, waving green +grass where Rex had left her. + +"Daisy," called Miss Burton, softly, "it is all over; come into the +house, my dear." + +But she turned from her with a shuddering gasp. + +"In the name of pity, leave me to myself," she sobbed; "it is the +greatest kindness you can do me." + +And the poor old lady who had wrought so much sorrow unwittingly in +those two severed lives, walked slowly back to the cottage, with tears +in her eyes, strongly impressed there must be some dark mystery in the +young girl's life who was sobbing her heart out in the green grass +yonder; and she did just what almost any other person would have done +under the same circumstances--sent immediately for Lester Stanwick. +He answered the summons at once, listening with intense interest while +the aged spinster briefly related all that had transpired; but through +oversight or excitement she quite forgot to mention Rex had called +Daisy his wife. + +"Curse him!" he muttered, under his breath, "I--I believe the girl +actually cares for him." + +Then he went out to Daisy, lying so still and lifeless among the pink +clover and waving grass. + +Poor Daisy! Poor, desperate, lonely, struggling child! All this cruel +load of sorrow, crushing her girlish heart, and blighting her young +life, and she so innocent, so entirely blameless, yet such a plaything +of fate. + +"Daisy," he said, bending over her and lifting the slight form in his +arms, "they tell me some one has been troubling you. Who has dared +annoy you? Trust in me, Daisy. What is the matter?" + +Lester Stanwick never forgot the white, pitiful face that was raised +to his. + +"I want to die," she sobbed. "Oh, why did you not leave me to die in +the dark water? it was so cruel of you to save me." + +"Do you want to know why I risked my life to save you, Daisy? Does not +my every word and glance tell you why?" The bold glance in his eyes +spoke volumes. "Have you not guessed that I love you, Daisy?" + +"Oh, please do not talk to me in that way, Mr. Stanwick," she cried, +starting to her feet in wild alarm. "Indeed you must not," she +stammered. + +"Why not?" he demanded, a merciless smile stirring beneath his heavy +mustache. "I consider that you belong to me. I mean to make you my +wife in very truth." + +Daisy threw up her hands in a gesture of terror heart-breaking to see, +shrinking away from him in quivering horror, her sweet face ashen +pale. + +"Oh, go away, go away!" she cried out. "I am growing afraid of you. I +could never marry you, and I would not if I could. I shall always be +grateful to you for what you have done for me, but, oh, go away, and +leave me now, for my trouble is greater than I can bear!" + +"You would not if you could," he repeated, coolly, smiling so +strangely her blood seemed to change to ice in her veins. "I thank you +sincerely for your appreciation of me. I did not dream, however, your +aversion to me was so deeply rooted. That makes little difference, +however. I shall make you my wife this very day all the same; +business, urgent business, calls me away from Elmwood to-day. I shall +take you with me as my wife." + +She heard the cruel words like one in a dream. + +"Rex! Rex!" she sobbed, under her breath. Suddenly she remembered Rex +had left her--she was never to look upon his face again. He had left +her to the cold mercies of a cruel world. Poor little Daisy--the +unhappy, heart-broken girl-bride--sat there wondering what else could +happen to her. "God has shut me out from His mercy," she cried; "there +is nothing for me to do but to die." + +"I am a desperate man, Daisy," pursued Stanwick, slowly. "My will is +my law. The treatment you receive at my hands depends entirely upon +yourself--you will not dare defy me!" His eyes fairly glowed with a +strange fire that appalled her as she met his passionate glance. + +Then Daisy lifted up her golden head with the first defiance she had +ever shown, the deathly pallor deepening on her fair, sweet, +flower-like face, and the look of a hunted deer at bay in the +beautiful velvety agonized eyes, as she answered: + +"I refuse to marry you, Mr. Stanwick. Please go away and leave me in +peace." + +He laughed mockingly. + +"I shall leave you for the present, my little sweetheart," he said, +"but I shall return in exactly fifteen minutes. Hold yourself in +readiness to receive me then; I shall not come alone, but bring with +me a minister, who will be prepared to marry us. I warn you not to +attempt to run away," he said, interpreting aright the startled glance +she cast about her. "In yonder lane stands a trusty sentinel to see +that you do not leave this house. You have been guarded thus since you +entered this house; knowing your proclivity to escape impending +difficulties, I have prepared accordingly. You can not escape your +fate, my little wild flower!" + +"No minister would marry an unwilling bride--he could not. I would +fling myself at his feet and tell him all, crying out I was--I was--" + +"You will do nothing of the kind," he interrupted, a hard, resolute +look settling on his face. "I would have preferred winning you by fair +means, if possible; if you make it impossible I shall be forced to a +desperate measure. I had not intended adopting such stringent +measures, except in an extreme case. Permit me to explain what I shall +do to prevent you from making the slightest outcry." As he spoke he +drew from his pocket a small revolver heavily inlaid with pearl and +silver. "I shall simply hold this toy to your pretty forehead to +prevent a scene. The minister will be none the wiser--he is blind? Do +you think," he continued, slowly, "that I am the man to give up a +thing I have set my heart upon for a childish whim?" + +"Believe me," cried Daisy, earnestly, "it is no childish whim. Oh, Mr. +Stanwick, I want to be grateful to you--why will you torture me until +I hate you?" + +"I will marry you this very day, Daisy Brooks, whether you hate me or +love me. I have done my best to gain your love. It will come in time; +I can wait for it." + +"You will never make me love you," cried Daisy, covering her face with +her hands; "do not hope it--and the more you talk to me the less I +like you. I wish you would go away." + +"I shall not despair," said Stanwick, with a confident smile. "I like +things which I find it hard to obtain--that was always one of my +characteristics--and I never liked you so well as I like you now, in +your defiant anger, and feel more determined than ever to make you my +own." + +Suddenly a new thought occurred to him as he was about to turn from +her. + +"Why, how stupid of me!" he cried. "I could not bring the parson here, +for they think you my wife already. I must change my plan materially +by taking you to the parsonage. We can go from here directly to the +station. I shall return in exactly fifteen minutes with a conveyance. +Remember, I warn you to make no outcry for protection in the meantime. +If you do I shall say you inherited your mother's malady. I am well +acquainted with your history, you see." He kissed his finger-tips to +her carelessly. "_Au revoir_, my love, but not farewell," he said, +lightly, "until we meet to be parted nevermore," and, with a quick, +springy step Lester Stanwick walked rapidly down the clover-bordered +path on his fatal errand. + +In the distance the little babbling brook sung to her of peace and +rest beneath its curling, limpid waters. + +"Oh, mother, mother," she cried, "what was the dark sorrow that +tortured your poor brain, till it drove you mad--ay, mad--ending in +death and despair? Why did you leave your little Daisy here to suffer +so? I feel such a throbbing in my own poor brain--but I must fly +anywhere, anywhere, to escape this new sorrow. God has forgotten me." +She took one step forward in a blind, groping, uncertain way. "My last +ray of hope has died out," she cried as the memory of his cruel words +came slowly back to her, so mockingly uttered--"the minister would be +none the wiser--he is blind." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +When Lester Stanwick returned to the cottage he found that quite an +unexpected turn of events had transpired. Miss Burton had gone out to +Daisy--she lay so still and lifeless in the long green grass. + +"Heaven bless me!" she cried, in alarm, raising her voice to a pitch +that brought both of the sisters quickly to her side. "Matilda, go at +once and fetch the doctor. See, this child is ill, her cheeks are +burning scarlet and her eyes are like stars." + +At that opportune moment they espied the doctor's carriage proceeding +leisurely along the road. + +"Dear me, how lucky," cried Ruth, "Doctor West should happen along +just now. Go to the gate, quick, Matilda, and ask him to stop." + +The keen eyes of the doctor, however, had observed the figure lying on +the grass and the frantic movements of the three old ladies bending +over it, and drew rein of his own accord to see what was the matter. + +He drew back with a cry of surprise as his eyes rested on the +beautiful flushed face of the young girl lying among the blue +harebells at his feet. + +"I am afraid this is a serious case," he said, thoughtfully, placing +his cool hand on her burning forehead; "the child has all the symptoms +of brain fever in its worst form, brought on probably through some +great excitement." The three ladies looked at one another meaningly. +"She must be taken into the house and put to bed at once," he +continued, authoritatively, lifting the slight figure in his strong +arms, and gazing pityingly down upon the beautiful flushed face framed +in its sheen of golden hair resting against his broad shoulders. + +The doctor was young and unmarried and impressible; and the strangest +sensation he had ever experienced thrilled through his heart as the +blue, flaring eyes met his and the trembling red lips incoherently +beseeched him to save her, hide her somewhere, anywhere, before the +fifteen minutes were up. + +A low muttered curse burst from Stanwick's lips upon his return, as he +took in the situation at a single glance. + +As Daisy's eyes fell upon Stanwick's face she uttered a piteous little +cry: + +"Save me from him--save me!" she said, hysterically, growing rapidly +so alarmingly worse that Stanwick was forced to leave the room, +motioning the doctor to follow him into the hall. + +"The young lady is my wife," he said, with unflinching assurance, +uttering the cruel falsehood, "and we intend leaving Elmwood to-day. I +am in an uncomfortable dilemma. I must go, yet I can not leave my--my +wife. She must be removed, doctor; can you not help me to arrange it +in some way?" + +"No, sir," cried the doctor, emphatically; "she can not be removed. As +her physician, I certainly would not give my consent to such a +proceeding; her very life would pay the forfeit." + +For a few moments Lester Stanwick paced up and down the hall lost in +deep thought; his lips were firmly set, and there was a determined +gleam in his restless black eyes. Suddenly he stopped short directly +before the doctor, who stood regarding him with no very agreeable +expression in his honest gray eyes. + +"How long will it be before the crisis is past--that is, how long will +it be before she is able to be removed?" + +"Not under three weeks," replied the doctor, determinedly. + +"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, sharply. "Why, I shall have to--" He +bit his lip savagely, as if he had been on the point of disclosing +some guarded secret. "Fate is against me," he said, "in more ways than +one; these things can not be avoided, I suppose. Well, doctor, as I am +forced to leave to-day I shall leave her in your charge. I will return +in exactly two weeks. She has brain fever, you say?" + +The doctor nodded. + +"You assure me she can not leave her bed for two weeks to come?" he +continued, anxiously. + +"I can safely promise that," replied the doctor, wondering at the +strange, satisfied smile that flitted like a meteor over his +companion's face for one brief instant. + +"This will defray her expenses in the meantime," he said, putting a +few crisp bank-notes into the doctor's hand. "See that she has every +luxury." + +He was about to re-enter the room where Daisy lay, but the doctor held +him back. + +"I should advise you to remain away for the present," he said, "your +presence produces such an unpleasant effect upon her. Wait until she +sleeps." + +"I have often thought it so strange people in delirium shrink so from +those they love best; I can not understand it," said Stanwick, with an +odd, forced laugh. "As you are the doctor, I suppose your orders must +be obeyed, however. If the fever should happen to take an unfavorable +turn in the meantime, please drop a line to my address, 'care of Miss +Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, Allendale,'" he said, extending +his card. "It will be forwarded to me promptly, and I can come on at +once." + +Again the doctor nodded, putting the card safely away in his wallet, +and soon after Lester Stanwick took his departure, roundly cursing his +luck, yet congratulating himself upon the fact that Daisy could not +leave Elmwood--he could rest content on that score. + +Meanwhile the three venerable sisters and the young doctor were +watching anxiously at Daisy's bedside. + +"Oh, my poor little dear--my pretty little dear!" sobbed Ruth, +caressing the burning little hands that clung to her so tightly. + +"Won't you hide me?" pleaded Daisy, laying her hot cheek against the +wrinkled hand that held hers. "Hide me, please, just as if I were your +own child; I have no mother, you know." + +"God help the pretty, innocent darling!" cried the doctor, turning +hastily away to hide the suspicious moisture that gathered in his +eyes. "No one is going to harm you, little one," he said, soothingly; +"no one shall annoy you." + +"Was it so great a sin? He would not let me explain. He has gone out +of my life!" she wailed, pathetically, putting back the golden rings +of hair from her flushed face. "Rex! Rex!" she sobbed, incoherently, +"I shall die--or, worse, I shall go mad, if you do not come back to +me!" + +The three ladies looked at one another questioningly, in alarm. + +"You must not mind the strange ravings of a person in delirium," said +the doctor, curtly; "they are liable to imagine and say all sorts of +nonsense. Pay no attention to what she says, my dear ladies; don't +disturb her with questions. That poor little brain needs absolute +rest; every nerve seems to have been strained to its utmost." + +After leaving the proper medicines and giving minute instructions as +to how and when it should be administered, Dr. West took his +departure, with a strange, vague uneasiness at his heart. + +"Pshaw!" he muttered to himself, as he drove briskly along the shadowy +road, yet seeing none of its beauty, "how strange it is these young +girls will fall in love and marry such fellows as that!" he mused. +"There is something about his face that I don't like; he is a +scoundrel, and I'll bet my life on it!" + +The doctor brought his fist down on his knee with such a resounding +blow that poor old Dobbin broke into a gallop. But, drive as fast he +would, he could not forget the sweet, childish face that had taken +such a strong hold upon his fancy. The trembling red lips and pleading +blue eyes haunted him all the morning, as though they held some secret +they would fain have whispered. + +All the night long Daisy clung to the hands that held hers, begging +and praying her not to leave her alone, until the poor old lady was +quite overcome by the fatigue of continued watching beside her couch. +Rest or sleep seemed to have fled from Daisy's bright, restless eyes. + +"Don't go away," she cried; "everybody goes away. I do not belong to +any one. I am all--all--alone," she would sigh, drearily. + +Again she fancied she was with Rex, standing beneath the magnolia +boughs in the sunshine; again, she was clinging to his arm--while some +cruel woman insulted her--sobbing pitifully upon his breast; again, +she was parting from him at the gate, asking him if what they had done +was right; then she was in some school-room, begging piteously for +some cruel letter; then out on the waves in the storm and the +on-coming darkness of night. + +The sisters relieved one another at regular intervals. They had ceased +to listen to her pathetic little appeals for help, or the wild cries +of agony that burst from the red feverish lips as she started up from +her slumbers with stifled sobs, moaning out that the time was flying; +that she must escape anywhere, anywhere, while there were still +fifteen minutes left her. + +She never once mentioned Stanwick's name, or Septima's, but called +incessantly for Rex and poor old Uncle John. + +"Who in the world do you suppose Rex is?" said Matilda, thoughtfully. +"That name is continually on her lips--the last word she utters when +she closes her eyes, the first word to cross her lips when she awakes. +That must certainly be the handsome young fellow she met at the gate. +If he is Rex I do not wonder the poor child loved him so. He was the +handsomest, most noble-looking, frank-faced young man I have ever +seen; and he took on in a way that made me actually cry when I told +him she was married. He would not believe it, until I called the child +and she told him herself it was the truth. I was sorry from the bottom +of my heart that young fellow had not won her instead of this +Stanwick, they were so suited to each other." + +"Ah," said Ruth, after a moment's pause, "I think I have the key to +this mystery. She loves this handsome Rex, that is evident; perhaps +they have had a lovers' quarrel, and she has married this one on the +spur of the moment through pique. Oh, the pretty little dear!" sighed +Ruth. "I hope she will never rue it." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Slowly the days came and went for the next fortnight. The crisis had +passed, and Dr. West said she would soon recover. The beautiful, long, +golden hair had been shorn from the pretty little head, and the +rose-bloom had died out of the pretty cheeks, but the bright, restless +light never left the beautiful blue eyes--otherwise there was but +little change in Daisy. + +It had been just two weeks that morning, they told her, as she opened +her eyes to consciousness, since she had first been stricken down. + +"And I have been here ever since?" she inquired, wonderingly. + +"Yes, my dear," replied Ruth Burton, softly patting the thin white +cheeks; "of course you have been here ever since. I am afraid we are +going to lose you soon, however. We have received a letter from your +husband, saying he will be here some time to-morrow. Shall you be +pleased to see him, dear?" + +In one single instant all the dim, horrible past rushed back to Daisy's +mind. She remembered flinging herself down in the clover-scented +grass, and the world growing dark around her, as the terrible words of +Stanwick rang in her ears--he would be back in just fifteen minutes to +claim her. + +Ah, bonny little Daisy, tossing on your pillow, babbling empty +nothings, better would it have been for you, perhaps, if you had +dropped the weary burden of your life into the kindly arms of death +then and there than to struggle onward into the dark mystery which lay +entombed in your future. + +"Shall you be glad to see Mr. Stanwick, dear?" repeated the old lady, +and, unconscious of any wrong, she placed the letter he had written in +Daisy's hands. Like one in a terrible dream, Daisy read it quite +through to the end. "You see, he says he incloses fifty dollars extra +for you, dear. I have placed it with the twenty safe in your little +purse." + +"Oh, Miss Ruth, you are so very kind to me. I shall never forget how +good you have all been to me," said Daisy, softly, watching the three +peaceful-faced old ladies, who had drawn their rocking-chairs, as was +their custom, all in a row, and sat quietly knitting in the sunshine, +the gentle click of their needles falling soothingly upon Daisy's +poor, tired brain. + +"We shall miss you sadly when you go," said Ruth, knitting away +vigorously. "You have been like a ray of sunshine in this gloomy old +house. We have all learned to love you very dearly." + +"You love me?" repeated Daisy, wonderingly. "I was beginning to +believe every one hated me in the whole world, every one has been so +bitter and so cruel with me, except poor old Uncle John. I often +wonder why God lets me live--what am I to do with my life! Mariana in +the moated grange, was not more to be pitied than I. Death relieved +her, but I am left to struggle on." + +"Heaven hear her!" cried Ruth. "One suffers a great deal to lose all +interest in life. You are so young, dear, you could not have suffered +much." + +"I have lost all I hold dear in life," she answered, pathetically, +lifting her beautiful, childish blue eyes toward the white fleecy +clouds tinted by the setting sun. + +Their hearts ached for the pretty, lonely little creature. They +believed she was thinking of her mother. So she was--and of Rex, the +handsome young husband whom she so madly idolized in her worshipful +childish fashion, who was worse than dead to her--the husband who +should have believed in her honor and purity, though the world had +cried out to him that she was false. He had thrust aside all +possibility of her writing to him; cast her out from his life; left +her to be persecuted beyond all endurance; bound by a vow she dare not +break to keep her marriage with Rex a secret. Though he was more cruel +than death, she loved Rex with a devotion that never faltered. + +Daisy lay there, thinking of it all, while the soft, golden sunlight +died out of the sky, and the deep dusk of twilight crept softly on. + +Then the old ladies arose from their chairs, folded their knitting, +and put it away. Dusk was their hour for retiring. + +They were discussing which one should sit up with Daisy, when she +summoned them all to her bedside. + +"I want you all to go to bed and never mind me," coaxed Daisy, with a +strange light in her eyes. "Take a good sleep, as I am going to do. I +shall be very happy to-morrow--happier than I have ever been before!" + +She clasped her white arms about their necks in turn, clinging to +them, and sobbing as though she was loath to part with them. + +Ruth's hand she held last and longest. + +"Please kiss me again," she sobbed. "Clasp your arms tight around me, +and say 'Good-night, Daisy.' It will be so nice to dream about." + +With a cheery laugh the old lady lovingly complied with her request. + +"You must close those bright little eyes of yours, and drift quickly +into the Land of Nod, or there will be no roses in these cheeks +to-morrow. Good-night, my pretty little dear!" + +"Good-night, dear, kind Ruth!" sighed Daisy. + +And she watched the old lady with wistful, hungry eyes as she picked +up her shaded night-lamp, that threw such a soft, sweet radiance over +her aged face, as she quietly quitted the room. + +A sudden change came over Daisy's face as the sound of her footsteps +died away in the hall. + +"Oh, God! help me!" she cried, piteously, struggling to her feet. "I +must be far away from here when daylight breaks." + +She was so weak she almost fell back on her bed again when she +attempted to rise. The thought of the morrow lent strength to her +flagging energies. A strange mist seemed rising before her. Twice she +seemed near fainting, but her indomitable courage kept her from +sinking, as she thought of what the morrow would have in store for +her. + +Quietly she counted over the little store in her purse by the moon's +rays. + +"Seventy dollars! Oh, I could never use all that in my life!" she +cried. "Besides, I could never touch one cent of Stanwick's money. It +would burn my fingers--I am sure it would!" + +Folding the bill carefully in two she placed it beneath her little +snowy ruffled pillow. Then catching up the thick, dark shawl which lay +on an adjacent table, she wrapped it quickly about her. She opened the +door leading out into the hall, and listened. All was still--solemnly +still. + +Daisy crept softly down the stairs, and out into the quiet beauty of +the still, summer night. + +"Rex," she wailed, softly, "perhaps when I am dead you will feel sorry +for poor little Daisy, and some one may tell you how you have wronged +me in your thoughts, but you would not let me tell you how it +happened!" + +In the distance she saw the shimmer of water lying white and still +under the moon's rays, tipped by the silvery light of the stars. + +"No, not that way," she cried, with a shudder; "some one might save +me, and I want to die!" + +In the distance the red and colored gleaming lights of an apothecary's +shop caught her gaze. + +"Yes, that way will be best," she said, reflectively. + +She drew the shawl closer about her, pressing on as rapidly as her +feeble little feet would carry her. How weak she was when she turned +the knob and entered--the very lights seemed dancing around her. + +A small, keen-eyed, shrewd little man stepped briskly forward to wait +upon her. He started back in horror at the utter despair and woe in +the beautiful young face that was turned for a moment toward him, +beautiful in all its pallor as a statue, with a crown of golden hair +such as pictures of angels wear encircling the perfect head. + +"What can I do for you, miss?" queried the apothecary, gazing +searchingly into the beautiful dreamy blue eyes raised up to his and +wondering who she could possibly be. + +"I wish to purchase some laudanum," Daisy faltered. "I wish it to +relieve a pain which is greater than I can bear." + +"Toothache, most probably?" intimated the brisk little doctor. "I know +what it is. Lord bless you! I've had it until I thought I should jump +through the roof. Laudanum's a first-class thing, but I can tell you +of something better--jerk 'em out, that's my recipe," he said, with an +odd little smile. "Of course every one to their notion, and if you say +laudanum--and nothing else--why it's laudanum you shall have; but +remember it's powerful. Why, ten drops of it would cause--death." + +"How many drops did you say?" asked Daisy, bending forward eagerly. +"I--I want to be careful in taking it." + +"Ten drops, I said, would poison a whole family, and twenty a +regiment. You must use it very carefully, miss. Remember I have warned +you," he said, handing her the little bottle filled with a dark liquid +and labeled conspicuously, "Laudanum--a poison." + +"Please give me my change quickly," she said, a strange, deadly +sickness creeping over her. + +"Certainly, ma'am," assented the obliging little man, handing her back +the change. + +Daisy quite failed to notice that he returned her the full amount she +had paid him in his eagerness to oblige her, and he went happily back +to compounding his drugs in the rear part of the shop, quite +unconscious he was out the price of the laudanum. + +He was dreaming of the strange beauty of the young girl, and the smile +deepened on his good-humored face as he remembered how sweetly she had +gazed up at him. + +Meanwhile Daisy struggled on, clasping her treasure close to her +throbbing heart. She remembered Ruth had pointed out an old shaft to +her from her window; it had been unused many years, she had said. + +"The old shaft shall be my tomb," she said; "no one will think of +looking for me there." + +Poor little Daisy--unhappy girl-bride, let Heaven not judge her +harshly--she was sorely tried. + +"Mother, mother!" she sobbed, in a dry, choking voice, "I can not live +any longer. I am not taking the life God gave me, I am only returning +it to Him. This is the only crime I have ever committed, mother, and +man will forget it, and God will forgive me. You must plead for me, +angel-mother. Good-bye, dear, kind Uncle John, your love never failed +me, and Rex--oh, Rex--whom I love best of all, you will not know how I +loved you. Oh, my love--my lost love--I shall watch over you up +there!" she moaned, "and come to you in your dreams! Good-bye, Rex, my +love, my husband!" she sobbed, holding the fatal liquid to her parched +lips. + +The deep yawning chasm lay at her feet. Ten--ay, eleven drops she +hastily swallowed. Then with one last piteous appeal to Heaven for +forgiveness, poor, helpless little Daisy closed her eyes and sprung +into the air. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +A strong hand drew Daisy quickly back. + +"Rash child! What is this that you would do?" cried an eager, earnest +voice, and, turning quickly about, speechless with fright, Daisy met +the stern eyes of the apothecary bent searchingly, inquiringly upon +her. + +"It means that I am tired of life," she replied, desperately. "My life +is so full of sadness it will be no sorrow to leave it. I wanted to +rest quietly down there, but you have held me back; it is useless to +attempt to save me now. I have already swallowed a portion of the +laudanum. Death must come to relieve me soon. It would be better to +let me die down there where no one could have looked upon my face +again." + +"I had no intention to let you die so easily," said the apothecary, +softly. "I read your thoughts too plainly for that. I did not give you +laudanum, but a harmless mixture instead, and followed you to see if +my surmise was correct. You are young and fair--surely life could not +have lost all hope and sunshine for you?" + +"You do not know all," said Daisy, wearily, "or you would not have +held me back. I do not know of another life so utterly hopeless as my +own." + +The good man looked at the sweet, innocent, beautiful face, upon which +the starlight fell, quite bewildered and thoughtful. + +"I should like to know what your trouble is," he said, gently. + +"I could tell you only one half of it," she replied, wearily. "I have +suffered much, and yet through no fault of my own. I am cast off, +deserted, condemned to a loveless, joyless life; my heart is broken; +there is nothing left me but to die. I repeat that it is a sad fate." + +"It is indeed," replied the apothecary, gravely. "Yet, alas! not an +uncommon one. Are you quite sure that nothing can remedy it?" + +"Quite sure," replied Daisy, hopelessly. "My doom is fixed; and no +matter how long I live, or how long he lives, it can never be +altered." + +The apothecary was uncomfortable without knowing why, haunted by a +vague, miserable suspicion, which poor Daisy's words secretly +corroborated; yet it seemed almost a sin to harbor one suspicion +against the purity of the artless little creature before him. He +looked into the fresh young face. There was no cloud on it, no guilt +lay brooding in the clear, truthful blue eyes. He never dreamed little +Daisy was a wife. "Why did he not love her?" was the query the +apothecary asked himself over and over again; "she is so young, so +loving, and so fair. He has cast her off, this man to whom she has +given the passionate love of her young heart." + +"You see you did wrong to hold me back," she said, gently. "How am I +to live and bear this sorrow that has come upon me? What am I to do?" + +She looked around her with the bewildered air of one who had lost her +way, with the dazed appearance of one from beneath whose feet the bank +of safety has been withdrawn. Hope was dead, and the past a blank. + +"No matter what your past has been, my poor child, you must remember +there is a future. Take up the burden again, and bear it nobly; go +back to your home, and commence life anew." + +"I have no home and no friends," she sighed, hopelessly. + +"Poor child," he said, pityingly, "is it as bad as that?" + +A sudden idea seemed to occur to him. + +"You are a perfect stranger to me," he said, "but I believe you to be +an honorable girl, and I should like to befriend you, as I would pray +Heaven to befriend a daughter of mine if she were similarly situated. +If I should put you in a way of obtaining your own living as companion +to an elderly lady in a distant city, would you be willing to take up +the tangled threads of your life again, and wait patiently until God +saw fit to call you--that is, you would never attempt to take your +life into your own hands again?" he asked, slowly. "Remember, such an +act is murder, and a murderer can not enter the kingdom of heaven." + +He never forgot the startled, frightened glance that swept over the +beautiful face, plainly discernible in the white moonlight, nor the +quiver of the sweet, tremulous voice as Daisy answered: + +"I think God must have intended me to live, or He would not have sent +you here to save me," she answered, impulsively. "Twice I have been +near death, and each time I have been rescued. I never attempted to +take my own life but this once. I shall try and accept my fate and +live out my weary life." + +"Bravely spoken, my noble girl," replied her rescuer, heartily. + +"I must go far away from here, though," she continued, shuddering; "I +am sorely persecuted here." + +The old man listened gravely to her disconnected, incoherent words, +drawing but one conclusion from them--"the lover who had cast her off +was pursuing the child, as her relentless foe, to the very verge of +death and despair." + +"It is my sister who wants a companion," he said. "She lives in the +South--in Florida. Do you think you would like to go as far away as +that?" + +"Yes," said Daisy, mechanically. "I should like to go to the furthest +end of the world. It does not matter much where I go!" + +How little she knew where fate was drifting her! Rex had not told her +his home was in Florida; he meant to tell her that on the morning he +was to have met her. + +"It will be a long, wearisome journey for you to undertake, still I +feel sure you are brave enough to accomplish it in safety." + +"I thank you very much for your confidence in me, sir," said Daisy, +simply. + +"Tut, tut, child!" exclaimed the old man, brusquely. "That innocent +little face of yours ought to be a passport to any one's confidence. I +don't think there's any doubt but what you will get on famously with +Maria--that's my sister Mrs. Glenn--but she's got three daughters that +would put an angel's temper on edge. They're my nieces--more's the +pity, for they are regular Tartars. Mrs. Glenn sent for my daughter +Alice to come down there; but, Lord bless you, I wouldn't dare send +her! There would be a raging quarrel before twenty-four hours! My +Alice has got a temper of her own. But, pshaw! I ought not to frighten +you, my dear; they could not help but love _you_." + +And thus it was Daisy's fate was unchangeably settled for her. + +"There is one thing I would like you to promise me," she said, +timidly, "and that is never to divulge my whereabouts to any one who +might come in search of me. I must remain dead to the world forever; I +shall never take up the old life again. They must believe me dead." + +Argument and persuasion alike were useless; and, sorely troubled at +heart, the apothecary reluctantly consented. Poor little Daisy +impulsively caught him by both hands, and gratefully sobbed out her +thanks. + +The arrangements were soon completed, and before the gray dawn pierced +the darkness of the eastern sky poor little Daisy was whirling rapidly +away from Elmwood. + +The consternation and excitement which prevailed at the Burton Cottage +when Daisy's absence was discovered can better be imagined than +described; or the intense anger of Stanwick upon finding Daisy had +eluded him. + +"Checkmated!" he cried, white to the very lips. "But she shall not +escape me; she shall suffer for this freak. I am not a man to be +trifled with. She can not have gone far," he assured himself. "In all +probability she has left Elmwood; but if by rail or by water I can +easily recapture my pretty bird. Ah, Daisy Brooks!" he muttered, "you +can not fly away from your fate; it will overtake you sooner or +later." + +Some hours after Stanwick had left the cottage, an old man toiled +wearily up the grass-grown path. + +"Oh, poor little Daisy," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes with +his old red and white cotton kerchief; "no matter what you have done +I will take you back to my heart--that I will!" + +He clutched the letter Mme. Whitney had written him close in his +toil-hardened hand. The letter simply told him Daisy had fled from the +seminary, and she had every reason to believe she was now in Elmwood. +He had received the letter while in New York, and hastily proceeded to +Elmwood, the station indicated, at once, without stopping over at +Allendale to acquaint Septima with the news. + +"She shall never be sent off to school again," he commented; "but she +shall stop at home. Poor little pet, she was always as happy as the +day was long; she sha'n't have book-learning if she don't want it. I +am too hard, I s'pose, with the child in sending her off among these +primpy city gals, with their flounces and furbelows, with only three +plain muslin frocks. The dickens fly away with the book-learnin'; I +like her all the better just as she is, bless her dear little heart! +I'm after little Daisy Brooks," he said, bowing to the ladies who met +him at the door. "I heard she was here--run away from school, you see, +ma'am--but I'll forgive the little gypsy. Tell her old Uncle John is +here. She'll be powerful glad to see me." + +Slowly and gently they broke to him the cruel story. How the dark, +handsome stranger had brought her there in the storm and the night; +and they could not refuse her shelter; the gentleman claimed her to be +his wife; of her illness which culminated in her disappearance. + +They never forgot the white, set face turned toward them. The veins +stood out like cords on his forehead, and the perspiration rolled down +his pallid cheeks in great quivering beads. This heart-rending, silent +emotion was more terrible to witness than the most violent paroxysms +of grief. Strangely enough they had quite forgotten to mention Rex's +visit. + +"You don't know how I loved that child," he cried, brokenly. "She was +all I had to love in the whole world, and I set such store by her, but +Stanwick shall pay dearly for this," he cried, hoarsely. "I shall +never rest day or night until my little Daisy's honor is avenged, so +help me God! You think she is dead?" he questioned, looking brokenly +from the one to the other. + +They only nodded their heads; they could not speak through their +sobs. + +At that moment several of the neighbors who were assisting in the +search were seen coming toward the cottage. + +They gathered in a little knot by the garden wall. With a heart +heavier than lead in his bosom John Brooks went forward to meet them. + +"You haven't got any track of my little Daisy?" he asked, despondingly. +The men averted their faces. "For God's sake speak out, my men!" he +cried, in agony; "I can't stand this suspense." + +"There are footprints in the wet grass down yonder," one of them +replied; "and they lead straight down to the old shaft. Do you think +your girl has made away with herself?" + +A gray, ghastly pallor settled over John Brooks' anguished face. + +"The Lord knows! All of you stay here while I go down there and look. +If I should find anything there I'd rather be alone." + +There was a depth of agony in the man's voice that touched his +hearers, and more than one coat-sleeve was drawn hastily across +sympathetic eyes as they whispered one to the other he would surely +find her there. + +John Brooks had reached the very mouth of the pit now, and through the +branches of the trees the men saw him suddenly spring forward, and +stoop as if to pick up something, and bitter cries rent the stillness +of the summer morning. + +"Daisy! oh, Daisy! my child, my child!" + +Then they saw him fall heavily to the ground on the very brink of the +shaft. + +"I guess he's found her!" cried the sympathizing men. "Let us go and +see." + +They found John Brooks insensible, lying prone on his face, grasping a +tiny little glove in one hand, and in the other a snowy little +handkerchief, which bore, in one corner, worked in fanciful design, +the name of "Daisy." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Glengrove was one of the most beautiful spots in the south of +Florida. The house--similar to many in the South in style of +architecture--stood in the midst of charming grounds which were +filled with flowers. To the left of the house was a large shrubbery +which opened on to a wide carriage-drive leading to the main road, +but the principal attraction of Glengrove was its magnificent +orange grove, where the brilliant sunshine loved to linger longest +among the dark-green boughs, painting the luscious fruit with its +own golden coloring--from green to gold. A low stone wall divided +it from the beach which led to the sea. + +It was early morning. In an elegant boudoir, whose oriel window +overlooked the garden, sat three young ladies, respectively, Bessie +Glenn, two-and-twenty; Gertie Glenn, twenty; and Eve Glenn, +eighteen--all dark-eyed, dark-haired, and handsome, yet each of a +distinct different type. + +"I declare, Bess," cried Gertie, indignantly, twisting the telegram +she held in her hand into a wisp, "it's from Uncle Jet! Guess what he +says!" + +"I couldn't possibly," yawns Bess, from the depths of her easy-chair; +"it's too much trouble." + +"Is it about Alice?" questioned Eve, maliciously. + +"Yes," replied Gertie; "but you are to try and guess what it is." + +"Why, I suppose some stranger has chanced to flutter down into the +quiet little village of Elmwood, and Alice thinks it her duty to stay +there and capture him." + +"That isn't it at all," snapped Gertie. "Uncle Jet says Alice can not +come; but he has taken the liberty of sending another young lady in +her stead, and hopes Miss Daisy Brooks will be the right person in the +right place. She will arrive on the twentieth, at nine A. M." + +Eve jumped to her feet in actual astonishment, and even Bessie dropped +her novel, with widely opened eyes. + +"Just fancy some tall, gaunt old maid of a companion, with such a +name!" she cried, raising her eyebrows and picking up her book again. +"I think you will find the daisy a rather ancient and faded flower." + +"She couldn't be anything else," assented Gertie. + +"Wouldn't it be fun if she should turn out to be young and pretty, and +take the shine off both of you?" laughed Eve, puckering up her mouth. +"I would enjoy it immensely!" + +"Eve, will you hold your tongue?" commanded Bessie, sharply. + +"You'd better hold your temper!" retorted Eve. + +"Pshaw! what's the use of being so silly as to quarrel over a Miss +Nobody?" cried Gertie, stamping her pretty slippered foot. "Guess what +else is the news." + +"Haven't I told you I despise guessing?" cried Bess, angrily. "It is +not good form to insist upon a person's guessing--please remember +it." + +"Write it down on ice," said Eve, _sotto voce_, mimicking her elder +sister's tone. + +"Well," said Gertie, with a look of triumph, "I drove over to Mrs. +Lyon's yesterday to see how everything was progressing for that +contemplated marriage, and, lo! she informs me the wedding is +postponed for the present, and Rex--handsome Rex--is coming home +alone." + +"No--o!" cried both the sisters in chorus. + +Bess sat bolt upright, and Eve danced around the room clapping her +hands. + +"I don't think much of a marriage which has been postponed," said +Bess, a bright spot glowing on both of her cheeks. "Who knows but what +one of us may have a chance of winning handsome Rex Lyon, after all? +He is certainly a golden prize!" + +"'Don't count the chickens,' etc.," quoted Eve, saucily. + +"Gertrude!" said Bess, severely, "you will learn after awhile never to +speak before Eve. She is as liable to do mischief as her namesake was +in the Garden of Eden." + +"You ought never to go back on your own sex," retorted Eve, banging +the door after her as she quitted the room, Rover, an ugly-looking +mastiff, closely following at her heels. + +"That is certainly an astonishing piece of news," said Bess, +reflectively, smoothing out the folds of her white cashmere morning +wrapper. "Now, here's a plan for you, Gertie. Find out his address in +some way, and we will write to him on some pretext or other. Rex has +probably quarreled with the haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, and +one of us ought certainly to catch his heart in the rebound. Send him +an invitation to your birthday party, Gertie." + +"I would be more likely to succeed than you, Bess," said Gertie, +rocking complacently to and fro, and looking maliciously at her +sister. "You remember he once remarked he did not like tall ladies, +and you are certainly tall, Bess." + +"Well, I'd rather be tall and willowy and graceful, than short and fat +and dumpy," jerked out Bess, spitefully. + +"What! at swords' points yet, eh? Ha, ha, ha!" cried Eve, suddenly, +popping her head in at the door. "I'll be back after awhile to see +which one of you gets the best of it." + +Before either of the sisters had time to reply, the family carriage +dashed suddenly up to the porch, and a moment later a slight, +dark-robed little figure was ushered into their presence. + +"This is Miss Brooks, mum," said Jim, the coachman, addressing the +elder sister. + +"I'd like to know why you have brought her in here?" cried Bess, +angrily. "Why did you not take her into the servants' hall or into the +kitchen?" + +But Jim had disappeared. + +"Well, now that you are here, you might sit down," suggested Gertie, +wondering what kind of a face was hid behind the long, thick, clinging +veil. "You may lay aside your bonnet and veil." + +Trembling and sick at heart with the cold greeting which had been +given her, Daisy did as she was bid. + +"Why, I declare, you are younger than I am!" cried Eve, impulsively. +"We were all expecting to see a wrinkled, dried-up old maid. Why, +you'd make a much better companion for me than for mother." + +"E--v--e!" cried the elder Miss Glenn, severely, "be kind enough to +leave the room." + +"I sha'n't go one step until I have had my say out," cried Eve, +planting herself firmly down on a hassock in the middle of the floor. +"Nobody likes me because I'm rude and free-spoken," declared Eve, +addressing Daisy; "but I believe in letting people know just what I am +to begin with. I'm not one of these sleek, smooth, tigery creatures +that hide their claws under velvet-paws. We are three model sisters," +she went on, recklessly; "we have tremendous spats--when we are here +alone; but if a visitor happens in we all sit with our arms around one +another, 'just to have the appearance' of affection, you know." + +The elder Miss Glenn arose with dignity, motioning Daisy to follow +her. + +"Papa will see you later, Eve, dear," she said, with a baleful glitter +in her sloe-black eyes; and as Daisy followed her she could not help +but compare her with Pluma Hurlhurst, with that treacherous, mocking +smile playing about her full, red lips--and quite unconsciously poor +little Daisy fell to thinking. + +"Rex will go back to Pluma Hurlhurst now," she thought, with a bitter +sigh. "He has cast me out of his life; he will go back and marry +her." + +Poor, innocent Daisy, how little she knew of life or the insurmountable +barrier which lay between the haughty, scheming heiress and Rex--her +husband! + +"I was asking you if you resided in Elmwood, Miss Brooks," said Bess, +raising her voice. "I have asked you twice." + +"I beg your pardon; please forgive me," said Daisy, flushing +painfully. "I--I was not aware you had spoken. No, I lived near +Elmwood--between there and Baltimore." + +Daisy was sorely afraid Miss Glenn would ask her to name the exact +location. She did not, however, much to Daisy's relief. By this time +they had reached the door of Mrs. Glenn's room, and as it was +slightly ajar Bessie pushed it open without further ceremony and +entered. + +"Has Miss Brooks come yet?" asked a thin, querulous voice. + +"Yes," answered Bessie; "here she is, mamma." + +The room was so dark Daisy could scarcely distinguish the different +objects for a moment or so. She saw, however, a dark figure on a couch +and a white jeweled hand waving a fan indolently to and fro. A sudden +impulse came over Daisy to turn and run away, but by a great effort +she controlled her feelings. + +"Step forward, if you please, Miss Brooks. I can not observe you well +at such a distance; do not tread on the poodle on the rug or brush +against the bric-à -brac placed indiscriminately about the room." + +"Oh, dear, if there were only a light," thought Daisy, in dismay. She +was afraid of taking a single step for fear some of the bric-à -brac +mentioned, either at the right or left of her, should come crashing +down under her blundering little feet. + +"I always exclude the broad glare of early morning light, as I find it +especially trying." + +As she spoke she threw back one of the shutters with the end of her +fan, and a warm flood of invigorating sunshine poured into the room. + +"Dear me," she cried, staring hard at the beautiful little face before +her. "Why, you are a child, scarcely older than my Eve. What could +that stupid brother of mine mean by sending you to me? I have a notion +to send you back again directly." + +"Oh, please do not, madame," cried Daisy, piteously. "Only try me +first; I will do my very best to please you." + +"But I did not want a young person," expostulated Mrs. Glenn. + +"But you sent for Alice, his daughter, and--and he thought I would do +as well," faltered Daisy, timidly. + +"Alice Jet is over forty, and you are not more than sixteen, I should +judge. How did you happen to think you could do as well as she?" + +The color came and went on Daisy's pretty flower-like face, and her +heart throbbed pitifully. + +"I am not so very wise or learned," she said, "but I should try so +hard to please you, if you will only let me try." + +"I suppose, now that you are here, we will have to make the best of +it," replied Mrs. Glenn, condescendingly. + +The fair beauty of the young girl's face did not please her. + +"I have always dreaded fair women," she thought to herself, "they are +the most dangerous of rivals. If she stays at Glengrove I shall see +she is kept well in the background." + +While in the morning-room below the three girls were discussing the +new turn of affairs vigorously. + +"I am determined she shall not remain here," Bessie Glenn was saying. + +"I heartily indorse your opinion," said Gertie, slowly. + +And for once in her life the tongue of reckless Eve was silent. She +looked thoughtfully out of the window. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +The first week of Daisy's stay at Glengrove passed quickly. She was +beginning to feel quite at home with Mrs. Glenn and Eve, but Bessie +and Gertie held aloof from her. She was beginning to believe she never +would be able to win her way to their hearts. Eve--warm-hearted, +impulsive Eve--took to her at once. + +"You are just the kind of a girl I like, Daisy," said Eve, twirling +one of her soft gold curls caressingly around her finger; "and if I +were a handsome young man, instead of a girl, I should fall +straightway in love with you. Why, what are you blushing so for?" +cried Eve. "Don't you like to talk about love and lovers?" + +"No," said Daisy, in a low voice, a distressed look creeping into her +blue eyes. "If you please, Eve, I'd rather not talk about such +things." + +"You are certainly a funny girl," said Eve, wonderingly. "Why, do you +know all the handsome young fellows around here have fallen deeply in +love with you, and have just been besieging both Bess and Gertie for +an introduction to you." + +No laughing rejoinder came from Daisy's red lips. There was an anxious +look in her eyes. Ah! this, then, accounted for the growing coldness +with which the two sisters greeted her. + +"You do not seem enough interested to even ask who they are," said +Eve, disappointedly. "I suppose you have never heard we have some +of the handsomest gentlemen around here to be met with in the +whole South--or in the North either, for that matter," said Eve, +enthusiastically. "Wait until you have seen some of them." + +How little she knew the girl's heart and soul was bound up in Rex, +whom she told herself she was never again to see. + +"Do you see that large gray, stone house yonder, whose turrets you +can just see beyond those trees?" asked Eve, suddenly, a mischievous +light dancing in her merry hazel eyes. + +"Yes," replied Daisy. "I have a fine view of it from my window +upstairs. I have seen a little child swinging to and fro in a hammock +beneath the trees. Poor little thing, she uses a crutch. Is she +lame?" + +"Yes," replied Eve, "that's little Birdie; she's lame. I do not want +to talk about her but about her brother. Oh, he is perfectly +splendid!" declared Eve, enthusiastically, "and rich, too. Why, he +owns I don't know how many cotton plantations and orange groves, and +he is--oh--so handsome! You must take care you do not fall in love +with him. All the girls do. If you did not, you would be a great +exception; you could scarcely help caring for him, he is so winning +and so nice," said Eve, blushing furiously. + +How poor little Daisy's heart longed for sympathy and consolation! Oh, +if she only dared tell Eve the great hidden sorrow that seemed eating +her heart away! She felt that she must unburden her heart to some one, +or it must surely break. + +"Eve," she said, her little hands closing softly over the restless +brown one drumming a tattoo on the window-sill, and her golden head +drooping so close to Eve's, her curls mingled with her dark locks, "I +could never love any one in this world again. I loved once--it was the +sweetest, yet the most bitter, experience of my life. The same voice +that spoke tender words to me cruelly cast me from him. Yet I love him +still with all my heart. Do not talk to me of love, or lovers, Eve, I +can not bear it. The world will never hold but one face for me, and +that is the face of him who is lost to me forever." + +"Oh, how delightfully romantic!" cried Eve. "I said to myself over and +over again there was some mystery in your life. I have seen such +strange shadows in your eyes, and your voice often had the sound of +tears in it. I do wish I could help you in some way," said Eve, +thoughtfully. "I'd give the world to set the matter straight for you. +What's his name, and where does he live?" + +"I can not tell you," said Daisy, shaking her golden curls sadly. + +"Oh, dear! then I do not see how I can help you," cried Eve. + +"You can not," replied Daisy; "only keep my secret for me." + +"I will," she cried, earnestly. + +And as they parted, Eve resolved in her own mind to bring this truant +lover of Daisy's back to his old allegiance; but the first and most +important step was to discover his name. + +Eve went directly to her own room, her brain whirling with a new plan, +which she meant to put into execution at once, while Daisy strolled on +through the grounds, choosing the less frequented paths. She wanted to +be all alone by herself to have a good cry. Somehow she felt so much +better for having made a partial confidante of Eve. + +The sun was beginning to sink in the west; still Daisy walked on, +thinking of Rex. A little shrill piping voice falling suddenly upon +her ears caused her to stop voluntarily. + +"Won't you please reach me my hat and crutch? I have dropped them on +your side of the fence." + +Daisy glanced around, wondering in which direction the voice came +from. + +"I am sitting on the high stone wall; come around on the other side of +that big tree and you will see me." + +The face that looked down into Daisy's almost took her breath away for +a single instant, it was so like Rex's. + +A bright, winning, childish face, framed in a mass of dark nut-brown +curls, and the brownest of large brown eyes. + +"Certainly," said Daisy, stooping down with a strange unexplainable +thrill at her heart and picking up the wide-brimmed sun-hat and +crutch, which was unfortunately broken by the fall. + +A low cry burst from the child's lips. + +"Oh, my crutch is broken!" she cried, in dismay. "What shall I do? I +can not walk back to the house. I am lame!" + +"Let me see if I can help you," said Daisy, scaling the stone wall +with the grace of a fawn. "Put your arms around my neck," she said, +"and cling very tight. I will soon have you down from your high perch; +never mind the crutch. I can carry you up to the porch; it is not very +far, and you are not heavy." + +In a very few moments Daisy had the child down safely upon _terra +firma_. + +"Thank you," said the child. "I know you are tired; we will rest a +moment, please, on this fallen log." + +The touch of the little girl's hands, the glance of the soft brown +eyes, and the tone of her voice seemed to recall every word and glance +of Rex, and hold a strange fascination for her. + +"I shall tell my mother and my brother how good you have been to me, +and they will thank you too. My name is Birdie; please tell me +yours." + +"My name is Daisy Brooks," she answered. + +Poor little girl-bride, there had been a time when she had whispered +to her heart that her name was Daisy Lyon; but that bright dream was +over now; she would never be aught else than--Daisy Brooks. + +"Is your name really Daisy?" cried the little girl in a transport of +delight, scarcely catching the last name. "Why, that is the name my +brother loves best in the world. You have such a sweet face," said the +child, earnestly. "I would choose the name of some flower as just +suited to you. I should have thought of Lily, Rose, Pansy, or Violet, +but I should never have thought of anything one half so pretty as +Daisy; it just suits you." + +All through her life Daisy felt that to be the sweetest compliment +ever paid her. Daisy laughed--the only happy laugh that had passed her +lips since she had met Rex that morning under the magnolia-tree. + +"Shall I tell you what my brother said about daisies?" + +"Yes, you may tell me, if you like," Daisy answered, observing the +child delighted to talk of her brother. + +"He has been away for a long time," explained Birdie. "He only came +home last night, and I cried myself to sleep, I was so glad. You see," +said the child, growing more confidential, and nestling closer to +Daisy's side, and opening wide her great brown eyes, "I was crying for +fear he would bring home a wife, and mamma was crying for fear he +wouldn't. I wrote him a letter all by myself once, and begged him not +to marry, but come home all alone, and you see he did," cried the +child, overjoyed. "When he answered my letter, he inclosed a little +pressed flower, with a golden heart and little white leaves around it, +saying: 'There is no flower like the daisy for me. I shall always +prize them as pearls beyond price.' I planted a whole bed of them +beneath his window, and I placed a fresh vase of them in his room, +mingled with some forget-me-nots, and when he saw them, he caught me +in his arms, and cried as though his heart would break." + +If the white fleecy clouds in the blue sky, the murmuring sea, or the +silver-throated bobolink swinging in the green leafy bough above her +head, had only whispered to Daisy why he loved the flowers so well +which bore the name of daisy, how much misery might have been spared +two loving hearts! The gray, dusky shadows of twilight were creeping +up from the sea. + +"Oh, see how late it is growing," cried Birdie, starting up in alarm. +"I am afraid you could not carry me up to the porch. If you could +only summon a servant, or--or--my brother." + +For answer, Daisy raised the slight burden in her arms with a smile. + +"I like you more than I can tell," said Birdie, laying her soft, pink, +dimpled cheek against Daisy's. "Won't you come often to the angle in +the stone wall? That is my favorite nook. I like to sit there and +watch the white sails glide by over the white crested waves." + +"Yes," said Daisy, "I will come every day." + +"Some time I may bring my brother with me; you must love him, too, +won't you?" + +"I should love any one who had you for a sister," replied Daisy, +clasping the little figure she held still closer in her arms; adding, +in her heart: "You are so like him." + +Birdie gave her such a hearty kiss, that the veil twined round her hat +tumbled about her face like a misty cloud. + +"You must put me down while you fix your veil," said Birdie. "You can +not see with it so. There are huge stones in the path, you would +stumble and fall." + +"So I shall," assented Daisy, as she placed the child down on the +soft, green grass. + +At that instant swift, springy footsteps came hurriedly down the path, +and a voice, which seemed to pierce her very heart, called: "Birdie, +little Birdie, where are you?" + +"Here, Brother Rex," called the child, holding out her arms to him +with eager delight. "Come here, Rex, and carry me; I have broken my +crutch." + +For one brief instant the world seemed to stand still around poor, +hapless Daisy, the forsaken girl-bride. The wonder was that she did +not die, so great was her intense emotion. Rex was standing before +her--the handsome, passionate lover, who had married her on the +impulse of the moment; the man whom she loved with her whole heart, at +whose name she trembled, of whom she had made an idol in her girlish +heart, and worshiped--the lover who had vowed so earnestly he would +shield her forever from the cold, cruel world, who had sworn eternal +constancy, while the faithful gleaming stars watched him from the blue +sky overhead. + +Yes, it was Rex! She could not see through the thick, misty veil, how +pale his face was in the gathering darkness. Oh, Heaven! how her +passionate little heart went out to him! How she longed, with a +passionate longing words could not tell, to touch his hand, or rest +her weary head on his breast. + +Her brain whirled; she seemed, to live ages in those few moments. +Should she throw herself on her knees, and cry out to him, "Oh, Rex, +Rex, my darling! I am _not_ guilty! Listen to me, my love. Hear my +pleading--listen to my prayer! I am more sinned against than sinning. +My life has been as pure as an angel's--take me back to your heart, or +I shall die!" + +"She has been so good to me, Rex," whispered Birdie, clinging to the +veil which covered Daisy's face. "I broke my crutch, and she has +carried me from the stone wall; won't you please thank her for me, +brother?" + +Daisy's heart nearly stopped beating; she knew the eventful moment of +her life had come, when Rex, her handsome young husband, turned +courteously toward her, extending his hand with a winning smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +On the day following Rex's return home, and the morning preceding the +events narrated in our last chapter, Mrs. Theodore Lyon sat in her +dressing-room eagerly awaiting her son; her eyebrows met in a dark +frown and her jeweled hands were locked tightly together in her lap. + +"Rex is like his father," she mused; "he will not be coerced in this +matter of marriage. He is reckless and willful, yet kind of heart. For +long years I have set my heart upon this marriage between Rex and +Pluma Hurlhurst. I say again it must be!" Mrs. Lyon idolized her only +son. "He would be a fitting mate for a queen," she told herself. The +proud, peerless beauty of the haughty young heiress of Whitestone Hall +pleased her. "She and no other shall be Rex's wife," she said. + +When Rex accepted the invitation to visit Whitestone Hall she smiled +complacently. + +"It can end in but one way," she told herself; "Rex will bring Pluma +home as his bride." + +Quite unknown to him, his elegant home had been undergoing repairs for +months. + +"There will be nothing wanting for the reception of his bride," she +said, viewing the magnificent suites of rooms which contained every +luxury that taste could suggest or money procure. + +Then came Rex's letter like a thunderbolt from a clear sky begging her +not to mention the subject again, as he could never marry Pluma +Hurlhurst. + +"I shall make a flying trip home," he said, "then I am going abroad." + +She did not notice how white and worn her boy's handsome face had +grown when she greeted him the night before, in the flickering light +of the chandelier. She would not speak to him then of the subject +uppermost in her mind. + +"Retire to your room at once, Rex," she said, "your journey has +wearied you. See, it is past midnight already. I will await you +to-morrow morning in my boudoir; we will breakfast there together." + +She leaned back against the crimson velvet cushions, tapping her satin +quilted slipper restlessly on the thick velvet carpet, ever and anon +glancing at her jeweled watch, wondering what could possibly detain +Rex. + +She heard the sound of a quick, familiar footstep in the corridor; a +moment later Rex was by her side. As she stooped down to kiss his face +she noticed, in the clear morning light, how changed he was. Her +jeweled hands lingered on his dark curls and touched his bright, proud +face. "What had come over this handsome, impetuous son of hers?" she +asked herself. + +"You have been ill, Rex," she said, anxiously, "and you have not told +me." + +"I have not, indeed, mother," he replied. + +"Not ill? Why, my dear boy, your face is haggard and worn, and there +are lines upon it that ought not to have been there for years. Rex," +she said, drawing him down on the sofa beside her, and holding his +strong white hands tightly clasped in her own, "I do not want to tease +you or bring up an unpleasant subject, but I had so hoped, my boy, you +would not come alone. I have hoped and prayed, morning and night, you +would bring home a bride, and that bride would be--Pluma Hurlhurst." + +Rex staggered from her arms with a groan. He meant to tell her the +whole truth, but the words seemed to fail him. + +"Mother," he said, turning toward her a face white with anguish, "in +Heaven's name, never mention love or marriage to me again or I shall +go mad. I shall never bring a bride here." + +"He has had a quarrel with Pluma," she thought. + +"Rex," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking down +into his face, "tell me, has Pluma Hurlhurst refused you? Tell me what +is the matter, Rex. I am your mother, and I have the right to know. +The one dream of my life has been to see Pluma your wife; I can not +give up that hope. If it is a quarrel it can be easily adjusted; +'true love never runs smooth,' you know." + +"It is not that, mother," said Rex, wearily bowing his head on his +hands. + +Then something like the truth seemed to dawn upon her. + +"My son," she said, in a slight tone of irritation, "Pluma wrote me of +that little occurrence at the lawn fête. Surely you are not in love +with that girl you were so foolishly attentive to--the overseer's +niece, I believe it was. I can not, I will not, believe a son of mine +could so far forget his pride as to indulge in such mad, reckless +folly. Remember, Rexford," she cried, in a voice fairly trembling with +suppressed rage, "I could never forgive such an act of recklessness. +She should never come here, I warn you." + +"Mother," said Rex, raising his head proudly, and meeting the flashing +scorn of her eyes unflinchingly, "you must not speak so; I--can not +listen to it." + +"By what right do you forbid me to speak of that girl as I choose?" +she demanded, in a voice hard and cold with intense passion. + +Once or twice Rex paced the length of the room, his arms folded upon +his breast. Suddenly he stopped before her. + +"What is this girl to you?" she asked. + +With white, quivering lips Rex answered back: + +"She is my wife!" + +The words were spoken almost in a whisper, but they echoed like +thunder through the room, and seemed to repeat themselves, over and +over again, during the moment of utter silence that ensued. Rex had +told his pitiful secret, and felt better already, as if the worst was +over; while his mother stood motionless and dumb, glaring upon him +with a baleful light in her eyes. He had dashed down in a single +instant the hopes she had built up for long years. + +"Let me tell you about it, mother," he said, kneeling at her feet. +"The worst and bitterest part is yet to come." + +"Yes, tell me," his mother said, hoarsely. + +Without lifting up his bowed head, or raising his voice, which was +strangely sad and low, Rex told his story--every word of it: how his +heart had went out to the sweet-faced, golden-haired little creature +whom he found fast asleep under the blossoming magnolia-tree in the +morning sunshine; how he protected the shrinking, timid little +creature from the cruel insults of Pluma Hurlhurst; how he persuaded +her to marry him out in the starlight, and how they had agreed to meet +on the morrow--that morrow on which he found the cottage empty and +his child-bride gone; of his search for her, and--oh, cruelest and +bitterest of all!--where and with whom he found her; how he had left +her lying among the clover, loving her too madly to curse her, yet +praying Heaven to strike him dead then and there. Daisy--sweet little, +blue-eyed Daisy was false; he never cared to look upon a woman's face +again. He spoke of Daisy as his wife over and over again, the name +lingering tenderly on his lips. He did not see how, at the mention of +the words, "My wife," his mother's face grew more stern and rigid, and +she clutched her hands so tightly together that the rings she wore +bruised her tender flesh, yet she did not seem to feel the pain. + +She saw the terrible glance that leaped into his eyes when he +mentioned Stanwick's name, and how he ground his teeth, like one +silently breathing a terrible curse. Then his voice fell to a +whisper. + +"I soon repented of my harshness," he said, "and I went back to +Elmwood; but, oh, the pity of it--the pity of it--I was too late; +little Daisy, my bride, was dead! She had thrown herself down a shaft +in a delirium. I would have followed her, but they held me back. I can +scarcely realize it, mother," he cried. "The great wonder is that I do +not go insane." + +Mrs. Lyon had heard but one word--"Dead." This girl who had inveigled +her handsome son into a low marriage was dead. Rex was free--free to +marry the bride whom she had selected for him. Yet she dare not +mention that thought to him now--no, not now; she must wait a little. + +No pity lurked in her heart for the poor little girl-bride whom she +supposed lying cold and still in death, whom her son so wildly +mourned; she only realized her darling Rex was free. What mattered it +to her at what bitter a cost Rex was free? She should yet see her +darling hopes realized. Pluma should be his wife, just as sure as they +both lived. + +"I have told you all now, mother," Rex said, in conclusion; "you must +comfort me, for Heaven knows I need all of your sympathy. You will +forgive me, mother," he said. "You would have loved Daisy, too, if you +had seen her; I shall always believe, through some enormous villainy, +Stanwick must have tempted her. I shall follow him to the ends of the +earth. I shall wring the truth from his lips. I must go away," he +cried--"anywhere, everywhere, trying to forget my great sorrow. How am +I to bear it? Has Heaven no pity, that I am so sorely tried?" + +At that moment little Birdie came hobbling into the room, and for a +brief moment Rex forgot his great grief in greeting his little +sister. + +"Oh, you darling brother Rex," she cried, clinging to him and laughing +and crying in one breath, "I told them to wake me up sure, if you came +in the night. I dreamed I heard your voice. You see, it must have been +real, but I couldn't wake up; and this morning I heard every one +saying: 'Rex is here, Rex is here,' and I couldn't wait another +moment, but I came straight down to you." + +Rex kissed the pretty little dimpled face, and the little chubby hands +that stroked his hair so tenderly. + +"Why, you have been crying, Rex," she cried out, in childish wonder. +"See, there are tear-drops on your eyelashes--one fell on my hand. +What is the matter, brother dear, are you not happy?" + +Birdie put her two little soft white arms around his neck, laying her +cheek close to his in her pretty, childish, caressing way. + +He tried to laugh lightly, but the laugh had no mirth in it. + +"You must run away and play, Birdie, and not annoy your brother," said +Mrs. Lyon, disengaging the child's clinging arms from Rex's neck. +"That child is growing altogether too observing of late." + +"Child!" cried Birdie. "I am ten years old. I shall soon be a young +lady like Bess and Gertie, over at Glengrove." + +"And Eve," suggested Rex, the shadow of a smile flickering around his +mouth. + +"No, not like Eve," cried the child, gathering up her crutch and +sun-hat as she limped toward the door; "Eve is not a young lady, she's +a Tom-boy; she wears short dresses and chases the hounds around, while +the other two wear silk dresses with big, big trains and have beaus to +hold their fans and handkerchiefs. I am going to take my new books you +sent me down to my old seat on the stone wall and read those pretty +stories there. I don't know if I will be back for lunch or not," she +called back; "if I don't, will you come for me, Brother Rex?" + +"Yes, dear," he made answer, "of course I will." + +The lunch hour came and went, still Birdie did not put in an +appearance. At last Rex was beginning to feel uneasy about her. + +"You need not be the least alarmed," said Mrs. Lyon, laughingly, "the +child is quite spoiled; she is like a romping gypsy, more content to +live out of doors in a tent than to remain indoors. She is probably +waiting down on the stone wall for you to come for her and carry her +home as you used to do. You had better go down and see, Rex; it is +growing quite dark." + +And Rex, all unconscious of the strange, invisible thread which fate +was weaving so closely about him, quickly made his way through the +fast-gathering darkness down the old familiar path which led through +the odorous orange groves to the old stone wall, guided by the shrill +treble of Birdie's childish voice, which he heard in the distance, +mingled with the plaintive murmur of the sad sea-waves--those waves +that seemed ever murmuring in their song the name of Daisy. Even the +subtle breeze seemed to whisper of her presence. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +"I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered my little +sister," said Rex, extending his hand to the little veiled figure +standing in the shade of the orange-trees. "Allow me to thank you for +it." + +Poor Daisy! she dared not speak lest the tones of her voice should +betray her identity. + +"I must for evermore be as one dead to him," she whispered to her +wildly beating heart. + +Rex wondered why the little, fluttering, cold fingers dropped so +quickly from his clasp; he thought he heard a stifled sigh; the +slight, delicate form looked strangely familiar, yet he could see it +was neither Eve, Gerty, nor Bess. She bowed her head with a few +low-murmured words he scarcely caught, and the next instant the little +figure was lost to sight in the darkness beyond. + +"Who was that, Birdie?" he asked, scarcely knowing what prompted the +question. + +Alas for the memory of childhood! poor little Birdie had quite +forgotten. + +"It is so stupid of me to forget, but when I see her again I shall ask +her and try and remember it then." + +"It is of no consequence," said Rex, raising the little figure in his +arms and bearing her quickly up the graveled path to the house. + +As he neared the house Rex observed there was great confusion among +the servants; there was a low murmur of voices and lights moving to +and fro. + +"What is the matter, Parker?" cried Rex, anxiously, of the servant who +came out to meet him. + +"Mrs. Lyon is very ill, sir," he answered, gravely; "it is a +paralytic stroke the doctor says. We could not find you, so we went +for Doctor Elton at once." + +It seemed but a moment since he had parted from his mother in the +gathering twilight, to search for Birdie. His mother very ill--dear +Heaven! he could scarcely realize it. + +"Oh, take me to mother, Rex!" cried Birdie, clinging to him piteously. +"Oh, it can not, it cannot be true; take me to her, Rex!" + +The sound of hushed weeping fell upon his ears and seemed to bring to +him a sense of what was happening. Like one in a dream he hurried +along the corridor toward his mother's boudoir. He heard his mother's +voice calling for him. + +"Where is my son?" she moaned. + +He opened the door quietly and went in. Her dark eyes opened feebly as +Rex entered, and she held out her arms to him. + +"Oh, my son, my son!" she cried; "thank Heaven you are here!" + +She clung to him, weeping bitterly. It was the first time he had ever +seen tears in his mother's eyes, and he was touched beyond words. + +"It may not be as bad as you think, mother," he said; "there is always +hope while there is life." + +She raised her face to her son's, and he saw there was a curious +whiteness upon it. + +The large, magnificent room was quite in shadow; soft shadows filled +the corners; the white statuettes gleamed in the darkness; one blind +was half drawn, and through it came the soft, sweet moonlight. A large +night-lamp stood upon the table, but it was carefully shaded. Faint +glimmers of light fell upon the bed, with its costly velvet hangings, +and on the white, drawn face that lay on the pillows, with the gray +shadow of death stealing softly over it--the faint, filmy look that +comes only into eyes that death has begun to darken. + +His mother had never been demonstrative; she had never cared for many +caresses; but now her son's love seemed her only comfort. + +"Rex," she said, clinging close to him, "I feel that I am dying. Send +them all away--my hours are numbered--a mist rises before my face, +Rex. Oh, dear Heaven! I can not see you--I have lost my sight--my eyes +grow dim." + +A cry came from Rex's lips. + +"Mother, dear mother," he cried, "there is no pain in this world I +would not undergo for your dear sake!" he cried, kissing the +stiffening lips. + +She laid her hands on the handsome head bent before her. + +"Heaven bless you, my son," she murmured. "Oh, Rex, my hope and my +trust are in you!" she wailed. "Comfort me, calm me--I have suffered +so much. I have one last dying request to make of you, my son. You +will grant my prayer, Rex? Surely Heaven would not let you refuse my +last request!" + +Rex clasped her in his arms. This was his lady-mother, whose proud, +calm, serene manner had always been perfect--whose fair, proud face +had never been stained with tears--whose lips had never been parted +with sighs or worn with entreaties. + +It was so new to him, so terrible in its novelty, he could hardly +understand it. He threw his arms around her, and clasped her closely +to his breast. + +"My dearest mother," he cried, "you know I would die for you if dying +would benefit you. Why do you doubt my willingness to obey your +wishes, whatever they may be? Whatever I can do to comfort you I will +surely do it, mother." + +"Heaven bless you, Rex!" she cried, feebly caressing his face and his +bands. "You make death a thousand-fold more easy to bear, my darling, +only son!" + +"My dear sir," said the doctor, bending over him gently, "I must +remind you your mother's life hangs on a thread. The least excitement, +the least agitation, and she will be dead before you can call for +help. No matter what she may say to you, listen and accede." + +Rex bent down and kissed the pale, agitated face on the pillow. + +"I will be careful of my dearest mother. Surely you may trust me," he +said. + +"I do," replied the doctor, gravely. "Your mother's life, for the +present, lies in your hands." + +"Is it true, Rex, that I must die?" she gasped. The look of anguish on +his face answered her. "Rex," she whispered, clinging like a child to +his strong white hands, "my hope and trust are in you, my only son. I +am going to put your love to the test, my boy. I beseech you to say +'Yes' to the last request I shall ever make of you. Heaven knows, Rex, +I would not mention it now, but I am dying--yes, dying, Rex." + +"You need not doubt it, mother," he replied, earnestly, "I can not +refuse anything you may ask! Why should I?" + +But, as he spoke, he had not the faintest idea of what he would be +asked to do. As he spoke his eyes caught the gleam of the moonlight +through the window, and his thoughts traveled for one moment to the +beloved face he had seen in the moonlight--how fair and innocent the +face was as they parted on the night they were wed! The picture of +that lonely young girl-wife, going home by herself, brought tears to +his eyes. + +"Was there ever a fate so cruel?" he said to himself. "Who ever lost a +wife on his wedding-day?" + +Surely there had never been a love-dream so sweet, so passionate, or +so bright as his. Surely there had never been one so rudely broken. + +Poor little Daisy--his wife--lying cold and still in death. Even his +mother was to be taken from him. + +The feeble pressure of his mother's hands recalled his wandering +thoughts. + +"Listen, Rex," she whispered, faintly, "my moments are precious." + +He felt his mother's arms clasp closely round his neck. + +"Go on, mother," he said, gently. + +"Rex, my son," she whispered, gaspingly, "I could not die and leave +the words unspoken. I want my race to live long generations after me. +Your poor little lame sister will go unmarried to the grave; and now +all rests with you, my only son. You understand me, Rex; you know the +last request I have to ask." + +For the first time a cry came to Rex's lips; her words pierced like a +sword in his heart. + +"Surely, mother, you do not mean--you do not think I could ever--" + +The very horror of the thought seemed to completely unman him. + +"You will marry again," she interrupted, finishing the sentence he +could not utter. "Remember, she whom you loved is dead. I would not +have asked this for long years to come, but I am dying--I must speak +now." + +"My God, mother!" he cried out in agony, "ask anything but that. My +heart is torn and bleeding; have pity on me, have pity!" + +Great drops of agony started on his brow; his whole frame shook with +agitation. + +He tried to collect himself, to gather his scattered thoughts, to +realize the full import of the words she had spoken. + +Marry again! Heaven pity him! How could he harbor such a thought for a +single instant, when he thought of the pale, cold face of little +Daisy--his fair young bride--whom he so madly loved, lying pale and +still in death, like a broken lily, down in the dark, bottomless pit +which never yielded up its terrible secrets! + +"Rex," wailed his mother, feebly, gazing into his eyes with a suspense +heart-breaking to witness, "don't refuse me this the first prayer I +had ever made. If you mean to refuse it would be kinder far to plunge +a dagger into my heart and let me die at once. You can not refuse." +One trembling hand she laid on his breast, and with the other caressed +his face. "You are good and gentle of heart, Rex; the prayers of your +dying mother will touch you. Answer me, my son; tell me my proud old +race shall not die with you, and I will rest calmly in my grave." + +The cold night-wind fanned his pallid brow, and the blood coursed +through his veins like molten lead. He saw the tears coursing down her +pale, withered cheeks. Ah, God! was it brave to speak the words which +must bring despair and death to her? Was it filial to send his mother +to her grave with sorrow and sadness in her heart? Could he thrust +aside his mother's loving arms and resist her dying prayer? Heaven +direct him, he was so sorely tried. + +"Comfort me, Rex," she whispered, "think of how I have loved you since +you were a little child, how I used to kiss your rosy little face and +dream what your future would be like. It comes back to me now while I +plead to you with my fast-fleeting breath. Oh, answer me, Rex." + +All the love and tenderness of the young man's impulsive heart was +stirred by the words. Never was a man so fearfully tried. Rex's +handsome face had grown white with emotion; deep shadows came into his +eyes. Ah, what could it matter now? His hopes were dead, his heart +crushed, yet how could he consent? + +"Oh, Heaven, Rex!" she cried, "what does that look on your face mean? +What is it?" + +The look of terror on her face seemed to force the mad words from his +lips, the magnetic gaze seemed to hold him spellbound. He bent over +hie mother and laid his fresh, brave young face on the cold, white +face of his dying mother. + +"Promise me, Rex," she whispered. + +"I promise, mother!" he cried. "God help me; if it will make your last +moments happier, I consent." + +"Heaven bless you, my noble son!" whispered the quivering voice. "You +have taken the bitter sting from death, and filled my heart with +gratitude. Some day you will thank me for it, Rex." + +They were uttered! Oh, fatal words! Poor Rex, wedded and parted, his +love-dream broken, how little he knew of the bitter grief which was to +accrue from that promise wrung from his white lips. + +Like one in a dream he heard her murmur the name of Pluma Hurlhurst. +The power of speech seemed denied him; he knew what she meant. He +bowed his head on her cold hands. + +"I have no heart to give her," he said, brokenly. "My heart is with +Daisy, my sweet little lost love." + +Poor Rex! how little he knew Daisy was at that self-same moment +watching with beating heart the faint light of his window through the +branches of the trees--Daisy, whom he mourned as dead, alas! dead to +him forever, shut out from his life by the rash words of that fatally +cruel promise. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +One thought only was uppermost in Daisy's mind as she sped swiftly +down the flower-bordered path in the moonlight, away from the husband +who was still so dear to her. + +"He did not recognize me," she panted, in a little quivering voice. +"Would he have cursed me, I wonder, had he known it was I?" + +Down went the little figure on her knees in the dew-spangled grass +with a sharp little cry. + +"Oh, dear, what shall I do?" she cried out in sudden fright. "How +could I know she was his sister when I told her my name?" A twig fell +from the bough above her head brushed by some night-bird's wing. "He +is coming to search for me," she whispered to herself. + +A tremor ran over her frame; the color flashed into her cheek and +parted lips, and a startled, wistful brightness crept into the blue +eyes. + +Ah! there never could have been a love so sweetly trustful and +child-like as little Daisy's for handsome Rex, her husband in name +only. + +Poor, little, innocent Daisy! if she had walked straight back to him, +crying out, "Rex, Rex, see, I am Daisy, your wife!" how much untold +sorrow might have been spared her. + +Poor, little, lonely, heart-broken child-bride! how was she to know +Rex had bitterly repented and come back to claim her, alas! too late; +and how he mourned her, refusing to be comforted, and how they forced +him back from the edge of the treacherous shaft lest he should plunge +headlong down the terrible depths. Oh, if she had but known all this! + +If Rex had dropped down from the clouds she could not have been more +startled and amazed at finding him in such close proximity away down +in Florida. + +She remembered he had spoken to her of his mother, as he clasped her +to his heart out in the starlight of that never-to-be-forgotten night, +whispering to her of the marriage which had been the dearest wish of +his mother's heart. + +She remembered how she had hid her happy, rosy, blushing face on his +breast, and asked him if he was quite sure he loved her better than +Pluma Hurlhurst, the haughty, beautiful heiress. + +"Yes, my pretty little sweetheart, a thousand times better," he had +replied, emphatically, holding her off at arm's-length, watching the +heightened color that surged over the dainty, dimpled face so plainly +discernible in the white, radiant starlight. + +Daisy rested her head on one soft, childish hand, and gazed +thoughtfully up at the cold, brilliant stars that gemmed the heavens +above her. + +"Oh, if you had only warned me, little stars!" she said. "I was so +happy then; and now life is so bitter!" + +A sudden impulse seized her, strong as her very life, to look upon his +face again. + +"I would be content to live my weary life out uncomplainingly then," +she said. + +Without intent or purpose she walked hurriedly back through the +pansy-bordered path she had so lately traversed. + +The grand old trees seemed to stretch their giant arms protectingly +over her, as if to ward off all harm. + +The night-wind fanned her flushed cheeks and tossed her golden curls +against her wistful, tear-stained face. Noiselessly she crept up the +wide, graveled path that led to his home--the home which should have +been hers. + +Was it fancy? She thought she heard Rex's voice crying out: "Daisy, my +darling!" How pitifully her heart thrilled! Dear Heaven! if it had +only been true. It was only the restless murmur of the waves sighing +among the orange-trees. + +A light burned dimly in an upper window. Suddenly a shadow fell across +the pale, silken curtains. She knew but too well whose shadow it was; +the proud, graceful poise of the handsome head, and the line of the +dark curls waving over the broad brow, could belong to no one but Rex. +There was no one but the pitying moonlight out there to see how +passionately the poor little child-bride kissed the pale roses on +which that shadow had fallen, and how she broke it from the stem and +placed it close to her beating heart--that lonely, starved little +heart, chilled under the withering frost of neglect, when life, love +and happiness should have been just bursting into bloom for her. + +"He said I had spoiled his life," she sighed, leaning her pale face +wearily against the dark-green ivy vines. "He must have meant I had +come between him and Pluma. Will he go back to her, now that he +believes me dead?" + +One question alone puzzled her: Had Birdie mentioned her name, and +would he know it was she, whom every one believed lying so cold and +still in the bottomless pit? She could not tell. + +"If I could but see Birdie for a moment," she thought, "and beseech +her to keep my secret!" + +Birdie had said her brother was soon going away again. + +"How could I bear it?" she asked herself, piteously. + +It was not in human nature to see the young husband whom she loved so +well drifting so completely away from her and still remain silent. "I +will watch over him from afar; I will be his guardian angel; I must +remain as one dead to him forever," she told herself. + +Afar off, over the dancing, moonlighted waters she saw a pleasure-boat +gliding swiftly over the rippling waves. She could hear their merry +laughter and gay, happy voices, and snatches of mirthful songs. +Suddenly the band struck up an old, familiar strain. Poor little Daisy +leaned her head against the iron railing of the porch and listened to +those cruel words--the piece that they played was "Love's Young +Dream." + +Love's young dream! Ah! how cruelly hers had ended! She looked up at +the white, fleecy clouds above her, vaguely wondering why the love of +one person made the earth a very paradise, or a wilderness. As the +gay, joyous music floated up to her the words of the poet found echo +in her heart in a passionate appeal: + + "No one could tell, for nobody knew, + Why love was made to gladden a few; + And hearts that would forever be true, + Go lone and starved the whole way through," + +Oh, it was such a blessed relief to her to watch that shadow. Rex was +pacing up and down the room now, his arms folded and his head bent on +his breast. Poor, patient little Daisy, watching alone out in the +starlight, was wondering if he was thinking of her. + +No thought occurred to her of being discovered there with her arms +clasped around that marble pillar watching so intently the shadow of +that graceful, manly figure pacing to and fro. + +No thought occurred to her that a strange event was at that moment +transpiring within those walls, or that something unusual was about to +happen. + +How she longed to look upon his face for just one brief moment! +Estrangement had not chilled her trusting love, it had increased it, +rather, tenfold. + +Surely it was not wrong to gaze upon that shadow--he was her husband. + +In that one moment a wild, bitter thought swept across her heart. + +Did Rex regret their marriage because she was poor, friendless, and an +orphan? Would it have been different if she had been the heiress of +Whitestone Hall? + +She pitied herself for her utter loneliness. There was no one to whom +she could say one word of all that filled her heart and mind, no face +to kiss, no heart to lean on; she was so completely alone. And this +was the hour her fate was being decided for her. There was no sympathy +for her, her isolation was bitter. She thought of all the heroines she +had ever read of. Ah, no one could picture such a sad fate as was +hers. + +A bright thought flashed across her lonely little heart. + +"His mother is there," she sighed. "Ah, if I were to go to her and cry +out: 'Love me, love me! I am your son's wife!' would she cast me from +her? Ah, no, surely not; a woman's gentle heart beats in her breast, a +woman's tender pity. I will plead with her on my knees--to comfort +me--to show me some path out of the pitiful darkness; I can love her +because she is his mother." + +Daisy drew her breath quickly; the color glowed warmly on her cheek +and lips; she wondered she had not thought of it before. Poor child! +she meant to tell her all, and throw herself upon her mercy. + +Her pretty, soft blue eyes, tender with the light of love, were +swimming with tears. A vain hope was struggling in her heart--Rex's +mother might love her, because she worshiped her only son so dearly. + +Would she send her forth from that home that should have sheltered +her, or would she clasp those little cold fingers in Rex's strong +white ones, as she explained to him, as only a mother can, how sadly +he had misjudged poor little Daisy--his wife? + +No wonder her heart throbbed pitifully as she stole silently +across the wide, shadowy porch, and, quivering from head to foot, +touched the bell that echoed with a resounding sound through the long +entrance-hall. + +"I would like to see Mrs. Lyon," she said, hesitatingly, to the +servant who answered her summons. "Please do not refuse me," she said, +clasping her little white hands pleadingly. "I must see her at once. +It is a question of life or death with me. Oh, sir, please do not +refuse me. I must see her at once--and--all alone!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +In the beautiful drawing-room at Whitestone Hall sat Pluma Hurlhurst, +running her white, jeweled fingers lightly over the keyboard of a +grand piano, but the music evidently failed to charm her. She arose +listlessly and walked toward the window, which opened out upon the +wide, cool, rose-embowered porch. + +The sunshine glimmered on her amber satin robe, and the white +frost-work of lace at her throat, and upon the dark, rich beauty of +her southern face. + +"Miss Pluma," called Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, entering the room, +"there is a person down-stairs who wishes to see you. I have told her +repeatedly it is an utter impossibility--you would not see her; but +she declares she will not go away until she does see you." + +Pluma turns from the window with cold disdain. + +"You should know better than to deliver a message of this kind to me. +How dare the impertinent, presuming beggar insist upon seeing me! +Order the servants to put her out of the house at once." + +"She is not young," said the venerable housekeeper, "and I thought, if +you only would--" + +"Your opinion was not called for, Mrs. Corliss," returned the heiress, +pointing toward the door haughtily. + +"I beg your pardon," the housekeeper made answer, "but the poor +creature begged so hard to see you I did feel a little sorry for +her." + +"This does not interest me, Mrs. Corliss," said Pluma, turning toward +the window, indicating the conversation was at an end--"not in the +least." + +"The Lord pity you, you stony-hearted creature!" murmured the +sympathetic old lady to herself as the door closed between them. "One +word wouldn't have cost you much, Heaven knows, it's mightly little +comfort poor old master takes with you! You are no more like the +bonny race of Hurlhursts than a raven is like a white dove!" And the +poor old lady walked slowly back to the dark-robed figure in the hall, +so eagerly awaiting her. + +"There was no use in my going to my young mistress; I knew she would +not see you. But I suppose you are more satisfied now." + +"She utterly refuses to see me, does she," asked the woman, in an +agitated voice, "when you told her I wished to see her particularly?" + +The housekeeper shook her head. + +"When Miss Pluma once makes up her mind to a thing, no power on earth +could change her mind," she said; "and she is determined she won't see +you, so you may as well consider that the end of it." + +Without another word the stranger turned and walked slowly down the +path and away from Whitestone Hall. + +"Fool that I was!" she muttered through her clinched teeth. "I might +have foreseen this. But I will haunt the place day and night until I +see you, proud heiress of Whitestone Hall. We shall see--time will +tell." + +Meanwhile Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was staring after her with +wondering eyes. + +"I have heard that voice and seen that face somewhere," she ruminated, +thoughtfully; "but where--where? There seems to be strange leaks in +this brain of mine--I can not remember." + +A heavy, halting step passed the door, and stopped there. + +"What did that woman want, Mrs. Corliss?" + +She started abruptly from her reverie, replying, hesitatingly. + +"She wanted to see Miss Pluma, sir." + +"Was Pluma so busily engaged she could not spare that poor creature a +moment or so?" he inquired, irritably. "Where is she?" + +"In the parlor, sir." + +With slow, feeble steps, more from weakness than age, Basil Hurlhurst +walked slowly down the corridor to the parlor. + +It was seldom he left his own apartments of late, yet Pluma never +raised her superb eyes from the book of engravings which lay in her +lap as he entered the room. + +A weary smile broke under his silver-white mustache. + +"You do not seem in a hurry to bid me welcome, Pluma," he said, +grimly, throwing himself down into an easy-chair opposite her. "I +congratulate myself upon having such an affectionate daughter." + +Pluma tossed aside her book with a yawn. + +"Of course I am glad to see you," she replied, carelessly; "but you +can not expect me to go into ecstasies over the event like a child in +pinafores might. You ought to take it for granted that I'm glad you +are beginning to see what utter folly it is to make such a recluse of +yourself." + +He bit his lip in chagrin. As is usually the case with invalids, he +was at times inclined to be decidedly irritable, as was the case just +now. + +"It is you who have driven me to seek the seclusion of my own +apartments, to be out of sight and hearing of the household of +simpering idiots you insist upon keeping about you," he cried, +angrily. "I came back to Whitestone Hall for peace and rest. Do I get +it? No." + +"That is not my fault," she answered, serenely. "You do not mingle +with the guests. I had no idea they could annoy you." + +"Well, don't you suppose I have eyes and ears, even if I do not mingle +with the chattering magpies you fill the house up with? Why, I can +never take a ramble in the grounds of an evening without stumbling +upon a dozen or more pair of simpering lovers at every turn. I like +darkness and quiet. Night after night I find the grounds strung up +with these Chinese lanterns, and I can not even sleep in my bed for +the eternal brass bands at night; and in the daytime not a moment's +quiet do I get for these infernal sonatas and screeching trills of the +piano. I tell you plainly, I shall not stand this thing a day longer. +I am master of Whitestone Hall yet, and while I live I shall have +things my own way. After I die you can turn it into a pandemonium, for +all I care." + +Pluma flashed her large dark eyes upon him surprisedly, beginning to +lose her temper, spurred on by opposition. + +"I am sure I do not mean to make a hermit of myself because you are +too old to enjoy the brightness of youth," she flashed out, defiantly; +"and you ought not to expect it--it is mean and contemptible of you." + +"Pluma!" echoed Basil Hurlhurst, in astonishment, his noble face +growing white and stern with suppressed excitement, "not another +word." + +Pluma tossed her head contemptuously. When once her temper arose it +was quite as impossible to check it as it was when she was a willful, +revengeful, spoiled child. + +"Another man as rich as you are would have taken their daughter to +Washington for a season, and in the summer to Long Branch or +Newport--somewhere, anywhere, away from the detestable waving +cotton-fields. When you die I shall have it all set on fire." + +"Pluma!" he cried, hoarsely, rising to his feet and drawing his +stately, commanding figure to its full height, "I will not brook such +language from a child who should at least yield me obedience, if not +love. You are not the heiress of Whitestone Hall yet, and you never +may be. If I thought you really contemplated laying waste these waving +fields that have been my pride for long years--and my father's before +me--I would will it to an utter stranger, so help me Heaven!" + +Were his words prophetic? How little she knew the echo of these words +were doomed to ring for all time down the corridors of her life! How +little we know what is in store for us! + +"I am your only child," said Pluma, haughtily; "you would not rob me +of my birthright. I shall be forced to submit to your pleasure--while +you are here--but, thank Heaven, the time is not far distant when I +shall be able to do as I please. 'The mills of the gods grind slowly, +but they grind exceeding fine,'" she quoted, saucily. + +"Thank Heaven the time is not far distant when I shall be able to do +as I please." He repeated the words slowly after her, each one sinking +into his heart like a poisoned arrow. "So you would thank Heaven for +my death, would you?" he cried, with passion rising to a white heat. +"Well, this is no better than I could expect from the daughter--of +such a mother." + +He had never intended speaking those words; but she goaded him on to +it with her taunting, scornful smile, reminding him so bitterly of the +one great error of his past life. + +He was little like the kind, courteous master of Whitestone Hall, whom +none named but to praise, as he stood there watching the immovable +face of his daughter. All the bitterness of his nature was by passion +rocked. No look of pain or anguish touched the dark beauty of that +southern face at the mention of her mother's name. + +"You have spoken well," she said. "I am her child. You speak of love," +she cried, contemptuously. "Have you not told me, a thousand times, +you never cared for my mother? How, then, could I expect you to care +for me? Have you not cried out unceasingly for the golden-haired young +wife and the babe you lost, and that you wished Heaven had taken you +too? Did I ever hear my mother's name upon your lips except with a +sneer? Do you expect these things made that mother's child more fond +of you, were you twenty times my father?" + +She stood up before him, proudly defiant, like a beautiful tragedy +queen, the sunlight slanting on the golden vines of her amber satin +robe, on the long, dark, silken curls fastened with a ruby star, and +on the deep crimson-hearted passion-roses that quivered on her heaving +breast. There was not one feature of that gloriously dark face that +resembled the proud, cold man sitting opposite her. + +He knew all she had said was quite true. He had tried so hard to love +this beautiful queenly girl from her infancy up. He was tender of +heart, honest and true; but an insurmountable barrier seemed ever +between them; each year found them further apart. + +Basil Hurlhurst lived over again in those few moments the terrible +folly that had cursed his youth, as he watched the passion-rocked face +before him. + +"Youth is blind and will not see," had been too bitterly true with +him. It was in his college days, when the world seemed all gayety, +youth and sunshine to him, he first met the beautiful face that was to +darken all of his after life. He was young and impulsive; he thought +it was love that filled his heart for the beautiful stranger who +appeared alone and friendless in that little college town. + +He never once asked who or what she was, or from whence she came, this +beautiful creature with the large, dark, dreamy eyes that thrilled his +heart into love. She carried the town by storm; every young man at the +college was deeply, desperately in love. But Basil, the handsomest and +wealthiest of them all, thought what a lark it would be to steal a +march on them all by marrying the dark-eyed beauty then and there. He +not only thought it, but executed it, but it was not the lark that he +thought it was going to be. For one short happy week he lived in a +fool's paradise, then a change came over the spirit of his dreams. In +that one week she had spent his year's income and all the money he +could borrow, then petulantly left him in anger. + +For two long years he never looked upon her face again. One stormy +night she returned quite unexpectedly at Whitestone Hall, bringing +with her their little child Pluma, and, placing her in her father's +arms, bitter recriminations followed. Bitterly Basil Hurlhurst +repented that terrible mistake of his youth, that hasty marriage. + +When the morning light dawned he took his wife and child from +Whitestone Hall--took them abroad. What did it matter to him where +they went? Life was the same to him in one part of the world as +another. For a year they led a weary life of it. Heaven only knew how +weary he was of the woman the law called his wife! + +One night, in a desperate fit of anger, she threw herself into the +sea; her body was never recovered. Then the master of Whitestone Hall +returned with his child, a sadder and wiser man. + +But the bitterest drop in his cup had been added last. The golden-haired +young wife, the one sweet love whom he had married last, was taken +from him; even her little child, tiny image of that fair young mother, +had not been spared him. + +How strange it was such a passionate yearning always came over him +when he thought of his child! + +When he saw a fair, golden-haired young girl, with eyes of blue, the +pain in his heart almost stifled him. Some strange unaccountable fate +urged him to ever seek for that one face even in the midst of crowds. +It was a mad, foolish fancy, yet it was the one consolation of Basil +Hurlhurst's weary, tempest tossed life. + +No wonder he set his teeth hard together as he listened to the cold +words of the proud, peerless beauty before him, who bore every +lineament of her mother's dark, fatal beauty--this daughter who +scornfully spoke of the hour when he should die as of some happy, +long-looked-for event. + +Those waving cotton-fields that stretched out on all sides as far as +the eye could reach, like a waving field of snow, laid waste beneath +the fire fiend's scorching breath! Never--never! + +Then and there the proud, self-conscious young heiress lost all +chances of reigning a regal queen, by _fair_ means, of Whitestone +Hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +The servant who opened the door for Daisy looked earnestly at the +fair, pleading young face, framed in rings of golden hair, so pure and +spiritual that it looked like an angel's with the soft white moonlight +falling over it. + +"You will not refuse me," she repeated, timidly. "I must speak to Mrs. +Lyon." + +"You have come too late," he replied, gently; "Mrs. Lyon is dead." + +The man never forgot the despairing look of horror that deepened in +the childish blue eyes raised to his. + +"Rex's mother dead!" she repeated, slowly, wondering if she had heard +aright. "Oh, my poor Rex, my poor Rex!" + +How she longed to go to him and comfort him in that terrible hour, but +she dared not intrude upon him. + +"If there is any message you would like to leave," said the +kind-hearted Parker, "I will take it to Mr. Rex." + +"No," said Daisy, shaking her head, "I have no message to leave; +perhaps I will come again--after this is all over," she made answer, +hesitatingly; her brain was in a whirl; she wanted to get away all by +herself to think. "Please don't say any one was here," she said, +quickly; "I--I don't want any one to know." + +The sweet, plaintive voice, as sweet as the silvery note of a forest +bird, went straight to his heart. + +Whatever the mission of this beautiful, mysterious visitor, he would +certainly respect her wishes. + +"I shall not mention it if you do not wish it," he said. + +"Thank you," she replied, simply; "you are very kind. My life seems +made up of disappointments," she continued, as she walked slowly home +under the restless, sighing green branches. + +It seemed so indeed. She was so young and inexperienced to be thrown +so entirely upon the cold, pitiless world--cut off so entirely from +all human sympathy. She entered the house quite unobserved. +Eve--bright, merry, dashing Eve--was singing like a lark in the +drawing-room, making the old house echo with her bright young voice. + +"How happy she is!" thought Daisy, wistfully. "She has home, friends, +and love, while I have nothing that makes life worth the living." + +Like a shadow, she flitted on through the dim, shadowy hall, toward +her own little room. She saw Gertie's door was ajar as she passed it, +and the sound of her own name caused her to pause voluntarily. + +It was very natural for Daisy to pause. How many are there who would +have passed on quietly, with no desire to know what was being said of +themselves, when they heard their own names mentioned in such a +sneering manner? Daisy certainly meant no harm by it; she paused, +thoughtfully and curiously, as any one would have done. + +"I am sure I don't like it," Gertie was saying, spitefully. "It is an +actual shame allowing Daisy Brooks to remain here. Uncle Jet was a +mean old thing to send her here, where there were three marriageable +young ladies. I tell you he did it out of pure spite." + +"I believe it," answered Bess, spiritedly. "Every one of my beaus +either hints for an introduction or asks for it outright." + +"What do you tell them?" questions Gertie, eagerly. + +"Tell them! Why, I look exceedingly surprised, replying: 'I do not +know to whom you refer. We have no company at the house just now.' 'I +mean that beautiful, golden-haired little fairy, with the rosy cheeks +and large blue eyes. If not your guest, may I ask who she is?' I am +certainly compelled to answer so direct a thrust," continued Bess, +angrily; "and I ask in well-feigned wonder: 'Surely you do not mean +Daisy Brooks, my mother's paid companion?'" + +"What do they say to that?" asked Gertie, laughing heartily at her +elder sister's ingenuity, and tossing her curl papers until every curl +threatened to tumble down. "That settles it, doesn't it?" + +"Mercy, no!" cried Bess, raising her eyebrows; "not a bit of it. The +more I say against her--in a sweet way, of course--the more they are +determined to form her acquaintance." + +"I don't see what every one can see in that little pink-and-white +baby-face of hers to rave over so!" cried Gertie, hotly. "I can't +imagine where in the world people see her. I have as much as told her +she was not expected to come into the parlor or drawing-room when +strangers were there, and what do you suppose she said?" + +"Cried, perhaps," said Bess, yawning with ennui. + +"She did nothing of the kind," retorted Gertie. "She seized my hand, +and said: 'Oh, Miss Gertrude, that is very kind of you, indeed! I +thank you ever so much!'" + +"Pshaw!" cried Bess, contemptuously. "That was a trick to make you +believe she did not want to be observed by our guests. She is a sly, +designing little creature, with her pretty face and soft, childish +ways." + +"But there is one point that seriously troubles me," said Gertie, +fastening the pink satin bow on her tiny slipper more securely, and +breaking off the thread with a nervous twitch. "I am seriously afraid, +if Rex were to see her, that would be the end of our castle in the +air. Daisy Brooks has just the face to attract a handsome, debonair +young fellow like Rex." + +"You can depend upon it he shall never see her," said Bess, decidedly. +"Where there's a will there's a way." + +"I have never been actually jealous of anyone before," said Gertie, +flushing furiously, as she acknowledged the fact; "but that Daisy has +such a way of attracting people toward her they quite forget your +presence when she is around. 'When one rival leaves the field, another +one is sure to come to the fore.' That's a true saying," said Gertie, +meditatively. "You see, he did not marry the heiress of Whitestone +Hall. So he is still in the market, to be captured by some lucky +girl." + +"Well, if I am the lucky one, you must forgive me, Gertie. All is fair +in love and war, you know. Besides, his wealth is too tempting to see +slip quietly by without a struggle." + +Before she could reply Eve popped in through the long French window +that opened out on the porch. + +"Oh, I'm so tired of hearing you two talk of lovers and riches!" she +cried, throwing herself down on the sofa. "I do hate to hear love +weighed against riches, as if it were a purchasable article. According +to your ideas, if a fellow was worth a hundred thousand, you would +love him moderately; but if he was worth half a million, you could +afford to love him immensely." + +"You have got a sensible idea of the matter," said Bess, coolly. + +"For shame!" cried Eve, in a hot fury. "It's an actual sin to talk in +that way. If a handsome young man loves you, and you love him, why, +you ought to marry him if he hadn't a dollar in the world!" + +Gertie and the worldly-wise Bess laughed at their younger sister's +enthusiasm. + +"Now, there's Rex Lyon, for instance," persisted Eve, absolutely +refusing to be silenced. "I would wager a box of the best kid gloves +either one of you would marry him to-morrow, if he were to ask you, if +he hadn't a penny in his pocket." + +"Pshaw!" reiterated Gertie, and Bess murmured something about absurd +ideas; but nevertheless both sisters were blushing furiously to the +very roots of their hair. They well knew in their hearts what she said +was perfectly true. + +"Eve," said Bess, laying her hand coaxingly on the young rebel's arm, +"Gertie and I want you to promise us something. Come, now, consent +that you will do as we wish, that's a good girl." + +"How can I promise before I know what you want?" said Eve, petulantly. +"You might want the man in the moon, after you've tried and failed to +get his earthly brethren, for all I know!" + +"Eve, you are actually absurd!" cried Bess, sharply. "This is merely a +slight favor we wish you to do." + +"If you warn her not to do a thing, that is just what she will set her +heart upon doing," said Gertie, significantly. + +By this time Eve's curiosity was well up. + +"You may as well tell me anyhow," she said; "for if you don't, and I +ever find out what it is, I'll do my very worst, because you kept it +from me." + +"Well," said Gertie, eagerly, "we want you to promise us not to give +Daisy Brooks an introduction to Rex Lyon." + +A defiant look stole over Eve's mischievous face. + +"If he asks me, I'm to turn and walk off, or I'm to say, 'No, sir, I +am under strict orders from my marriageable sisters not to.' Is that +what you mean?" + +"Eve," they both cried in chorus, "don't be unsisterly; don't put a +stumbling-block in our path; rather remove it!" + +"I shall not bind myself to such a promise!" cried Eve. "You are +trying to spoil my pet scheme. I believe you two are actually witches +and guessed it. What put it into your heads that I had any such +intentions anyhow?" + +"Then you were actually thinking of going against our interest in that +way," cried Gertie, white to the very lips, "you insolent little +minx!" + +"I don't choose to remain in such polite society," said Eve, with a +mocking courtesy, skipping toward the door. "I may take a notion to +write a little note to Mr. Rex, inviting him over here to see our +household fairy, just as the spirit moves me." + +This was really more than Gertie's warm, southern temper could bear. +She actually flew at the offending Eve in her rage; but Eve was nimble +of foot and disappeared up the stairway, three steps at a bound. + +"What a vixen our Gertie is growing to be!" she cried, pantingly, as +she reached the top step. + +She saw a light in Daisy's room, and tapped quietly on the door. + +"Is that you, Eve?" cried a smothered voice from the pillows. + +"Yes," replied Eve; "I'd like very much to come in. May I?" + +For answer, Daisy opened the door, but Eve stood quite still on the +threshold. + +"What's the matter, Daisy, have you been crying?" she demanded. "Why, +your eyelids are red and swollen, and your eyes glow like the stars. +Has Gertie or Bess said anything cross to you?" she inquired, +smoothing back the soft golden curls that clustered round the white +brow. + +"No," said Daisy, choking down a hard sob; "only I am very unhappy, +Eve, and I feel just--just as if every one in the world hated me." + +"How long have you been up here in your room?" asked Eve, suspiciously, +fearing Daisy had by chance overheard the late conversation +down-stairs. + +"Quite an hour," answered Daisy, truthfully. + +"Then you did not hear what I was talking about down-stairs, did you?" +she inquired, anxiously. + +"No," said Daisy, "you were playing over a new waltz when I came +upstairs." + +"Oh," said Eve, breathing freer, thinking to herself, "She has not +heard what we said. I am thankful for that." + +"You must not talk like that, Daisy," she said, gayly, clasping her +arms caressingly around the slender figure leaning against the +casement; "I predict great things in store for you--wonderful things. +Do not start and look at me so curiously, for I shall not tell you +anything else, for it is getting dangerously near a certain forbidden +subject. You know you warned me not to talk to you of love or lovers. +I intend to have a great surprise for you. That is all I'm going to +tell you now." + +Eve was almost frightened at the rapture that lighted up the beautiful +face raised to her own. + +"Has any one called for me, Eve?" she asked, piteously. "Oh, Eve, tell +me quickly. I have hoped against hope, almost afraid to indulge so +sweet a dream. Has any one inquired for me?" + +Eve shook her head, sorely puzzled. + +"Were you expecting any one to call?" she asked. She saw the light die +quickly out of the blue eyes and the rich peachlike bloom from the +delicate, dimpled cheeks. "I know something is troubling you greatly, +little Daisy," she said, "and I sympathize with you even if I may not +share your secret." + +"Every one is so cold and so cruel to me, I think I should die if I +were to lose your friendship, Eve," she said. + +Eve held the girl's soft white hand in hers. "You will never die, +then, if you wait for that event to happen. When I like a person, I +like them for all time. I never could pretend a friendship I did not +feel. And I said to myself the first moment I saw you: 'What a sweet +littly fairy! I shall love her, I'm sure.'" + +"And do you love me?" asked Daisy. + +"Yes," said Eve; "my friendship is a lasting one. I could do almost +anything for you." + +She wondered why Daisy took her face between her soft little palms and +looked so earnestly down into her eyes, and kissed her lips so +repeatedly. + +Poor Daisy! if she had only confided in Eve--reckless, impulsive, +warm-hearted, sympathetic Eve--it might have been better for her. "No +matter what you might hear of me in the future, no matter what fate +might tempt me to do, promise me, Eve, that you, of all the world, +will believe in me, you will not lose your faith in me." The sweet +voice sounded hollow and unnatural. "There are dark, pitiful secrets +in many lives," she said, "that drive one to the very verge of madness +in their woe. If you love me, pray for me, Eve. My feet are on the +edge of a terrible precipice." + +In after years Eve never forgot the haunted look of despair that +crossed the fair face of Daisy Brooks, as the words broke from her +lips in a piteous cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +The announcement of Mrs. Lyon's sudden and unexpected death caused +great excitement and consternation the next morning at Glengrove. + +"Oh, dear!" cried Gertie, "how provokingly unfortunate for her to die +just now! Why couldn't she have waited until after our birthday party? +Of course Rex wouldn't be expected to come now; and this whole matter +was arranged especially for him; and my beautiful lilac silk is all +made, and so bewitchingly lovely, too!" + +"What can't be cured must be endured, you know," said Bess; "and now +the best thing to be done is to send a note of condolence to him, +extending our deepest sympathy, and offering him any assistance in our +power; and be sure to add: 'We would be very pleased to have Birdie +come over here until you can make other arrangements for her.'" + +"Have Birdie here!" flashed Gertie, angrily. "I actually think you +have gone crazy!" + +"Well, there is certainly a method in my madness," remarked Bess. +"Aren't you quick-witted enough to understand that would be a sure way +of bringing Rex over here every day?--he would come to see his +sister--and that is quite a point gained." + +"You are rather clever, Bess; I never thought of that." + +And straightway the perfumed little note was dispatched, bearing +Gertie's monogram and tender-worded sympathy to the handsome young +heir, who sat all alone in that darkened chamber, wondering why Heaven +had been so unkind to him. + +An hour later Bess and Gertie were in the library arranging some new +volumes on the shelves. Mrs. Glenn sat in a large easy-chair +superintending the affair, while Daisy stood at an open window, +holding the book from which she had been reading aloud in her restless +fingers, her blue eyes gazing earnestly on the distant curling smoke +that rose up lazily from the chimneys of Rex's home, and upon the +brilliant sunshine that lighted up the eastern windows with a blaze of +glory--as if there was no such thing as death or sorrow within those +palatial walls--when Rex's answer was received. + +"It is from Rex!" cried Gertie, all in a flutter. "Shall I read it +aloud, mamma?" she asked, glancing furtively at Daisy, who stood at +the window, her pale, death-like face half buried in the lace +curtains. + +"It is certainly not a personal letter," said Bess, maliciously +glancing at the superscription. "Don't you see it is addressed to +'Mrs. Glenn and daughters.'" + +"In a time like that people don't think much of letters," commented +Mrs. Glenn, apologetically. "Read the letter aloud, of course, my +dear." + +It read: + + "DEAR LADIES,--I thank you more than I can express for your kind + sympathy in my present sad bereavement. I would gladly have + accepted your offer of bringing my dear little orphan sister to + you, had I not received a telegram this morning from Miss Pluma + Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, West Virginia, announcing her + intention of coming on at once, accompanied by Mrs. Corliss, to + take charge of little Birdie. + + "Again thanking you for the courtesy and kindness shown me, I am + + "Yours very truly, + "REXFORD LYON." + +There was a low, gasping, piteous cry; and the little figure at the +window slipped down among the soft, billowy curtains in a deadly +swoon; but the three, so deeply engrossed in discussing the contents +of the note, did not notice it. At last Daisy opened her eyes, and the +blue eyes were dazed with pain. She could hear them coupling the names +of Rex and Pluma Hurlhurst. Rex--her husband! + +Daisy was blind and stupefied. She groped rather than walked from the +library--away from the three, who scarcely noticed her absence. + +Who cared that her heart was broken? Who cared that the cruel stab had +gone home to her tender, bleeding heart; that the sweet young face was +whiter than the petals of the star-bells tossing their white plumes +against the casement? + +Slowly, blindly, with one hand grasping the balusters, she went up the +broad staircase to her own room. + +She tried to think of everything on the way except the one thing that +had taken place. She thought of the story she had read, of a girl who +was slain by having a dagger plunged into her breast. The girl ran a +short distance, and when the dagger was drawn from the wound, she fell +down dead. In some way she fancied she was like that girl--that, when +she should reach her own room and stand face to face with her own +pain, she should drop down dead. + +The door was closed, and she stood motionless, trying to understand +and realize what she had heard. + +"Have my senses deceived me?" She said the words over and over to +herself. "Did I dream it? Can it even be possible Pluma Hurlhurst is +coming here, coming to the home where I should have been? God help me. +Coming to comfort Rex--my husband!" + +She could fancy the darkly beautiful face bending over him; her white +jeweled hands upon his shoulder, or, perhaps, smoothing back the bonny +brown clustering curls from his white brow. + +"My place should have been by his side," she continued. + +It hurt and pained her to hear the name of the man she loved dearer +than life mentioned with the name of Pluma Hurlhurst. + +"Oh, Rex, my love, my love!" she cried out, "I can not bear it any +longer. The sun of my life has gone down in gloom and chill. Oh, Rex, +my husband, I have not the strength nor the courage to bear it. I am a +coward. I can not give you up. We are living apart under the blue, +smiling sky and the golden sun. Yet in the sight of the angels, I am +your wife." + +Suddenly, the solemn bells from Rex's home commenced tolling, and +through the leafy branches of the trees she caught a glimpse of a +white face and bowed head, and of a proud, cold face bending +caressingly over it, just as she had pictured it in her imagination. + +Dear Heaven! it was Rex and Pluma! She did not moan. She did not cry +out, nor utter even a sigh. Like one turned to marble she, the poor +little misguided child-wife, stood watching them with an intentness +verging almost into madness. + +She saw him lift his head wearily from his white hands, rise slowly, +and then, side by side, both disappeared from the window. + +After that Daisy never knew how the moments passed. She remembered the +tidy little waiting-maid coming to her and asking if she would please +come down to tea. She shook her head but no sound issued from the +white lips, and the maid went softly away, closing the door behind +her. + +Slowly the sun sunk in the west in a great red ball of fire. The light +died out of the sky, and the song birds trilled their plaintive +good-night songs in the soft gloaming. Still Daisy sat with her hands +crossed in her lap, gazing intently at the window, where she had seen +Pluma standing with Rex, her husband. + +A hand turned the knob of her door. + +"Oh, dear me," cried Gertie, "you are all in the dark. I do not see +you. Are you here, Daisy Brooks?" + +"Yes," said Daisy, controlling her voice by a violent effort. "Won't +you sit down? I will light the gas." + +"Oh, no, indeed!" cried Gertie. "I came up to ask you if you would +please sew a little on my ball dress to-night. I can not use it just +now; still, there is no need of putting it away half finished." + +Sew on a ball dress while her heart was breaking! Oh, how could she do +it? Quietly she followed Gertie to her pretty little blue and gold +boudoir, making no remonstrance. She was to sew on a ball dress while +the heiress of Whitestone Hall was consoling her young husband in his +bitter sorrow? + +The shimmering billows of silk seemed swimming before her eyes, and +the frost-work of seed-pearls to waver through the blinding tears that +would force themselves to her eyes. Eve was not there. How pitifully +lonely poor Daisy felt! The face, bent so patiently over the lilac +silk, had a strange story written upon it. But the two girls, +discussing the events of the day, did not glance once in her +direction; their thoughts and conversation were of the handsome young +heiress and Rex. + +"For once in your life you were wrong," said Bess. "The way affairs +appear now does not look much like a broken-off marriage, I can assure +you." + +"Those who have seen her say she is peculiarly beautiful and +fascinating, though cold, reserved, and as haughty as a queen," said +Gertie. + +"Cold and reserved," sneered Bess. "I guess you would not have thought +so if you had been at the drawing-room window to-day and seen her +bending over Rex so lovingly. I declare I expected every moment to see +her kiss him." + +The box which held the seed-pearls dropped to the floor with a crash, +and the white, glistening beads were scattered about in all +directions. + +"Why, what a careless creature you are, Daisy Brooks!" cried Gertie, +in dismay. "Just see what you have done! Half of them will be lost, +and what is not lost will be smashed, and I had just enough to finish +that lily on the front breadth and twine among the blossoms for my +hair. What do you suppose I'm going to do now, you provoking girl? It +is actually enough to make one cry." + +"I am so sorry," sighed Daisy, piteously. + +"Sorry! Will that bring back my seed-pearls? I have half a mind to +make mamma deduct the amount from your salary." + +"You may have it all if it will only replace them," said Daisy, +earnestly. "I think, though, I have gathered them all up." + +A great, round tear rolled off from her long, silky eyelashes and into +the very heart of the frosted lily over which she bent, but the lily's +petals seemed to close about it, leaving no trace of its presence. + +Bessie and Gertie openly discussed their chagrin and keen disappointment, +yet admitting what a handsome couple Rex and Pluma made--he so courteous +and noble, she so royal and queenly. + +"Of course we must call upon her if she is to be Rex's wife," said +Gertie, spitefully. "I foresee she will be exceedingly popular." + +"We must also invite her to Glengrove," said Bess, thoughtfully. "It +is the least we can do, and it is expected of us. I quite forgot to +mention one of their servants was telling Jim both Rex and little +Birdie intend to accompany Miss Hurlhurst back to Whitestone Hall as +soon after the funeral as matters can be arranged." + +"Why, that is startling news indeed! Why, then, they will probably +leave some time this week!" cried Gertie. + +"Most probably," said Bess. "You ought certainly to send over your +note this evening--it is very early yet." + +"There is no one to send," said Gertie. "Jim has driven over to +Natchez, and there is no one else to go." + +"Perhaps Daisy will go for you," suggested Bess. + +There was no need of being jealous _now_ of Daisy's beauty in that +direction. Gertie gladly availed herself of the suggestion. + +"Daisy," she said, turning abruptly to the quivering little figure, +whose face drooped over the lilac silk, "never mind finishing that +dress to-night. I wish you to take a note over to the large gray stone +house yonder, and be sure to deliver it to Mr. Rex Lyon himself." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Gertie Glenn never forgot the despairing cry that broke from Daisy's +white lips as she repeated her command: + +"I wish you to deliver this note to Mr. Rex Lyon himself." + +"Oh, Miss Gertie," she cried, clasping her hands together in an agony +of entreaty, "I can not--oh, indeed I can not! Ask anything of me but +that and I will gladly do it!" + +Both girls looked at her in sheer astonishment. + +"What is the reason you can not?" cried Gertie, in utter amazement. "I +do not comprehend you." + +"I--I can not take the note," she said, in a frightened whisper. "I do +not--I--" + +She stopped short in utter confusion. + +"I choose you shall do just as I bid you," replied Gertie, in her +imperious, scornful anger. "It really seems to me you forget your +position here, Miss Brooks. How dare you refuse me?" + +Opposition always strengthened Gertie's decision, and she determined +Daisy should take her note to Rex Lyon at all hazards. + +The eloquent, mute appeal in the blue eyes raised to her own was +utterly lost on her. + +"The pride of these dependent companions is something ridiculous," she +went on, angrily. "You consider yourself too fine, I suppose, to be +made a messenger of." Gertie laughed aloud, a scornful, mocking laugh. +"Pride and poverty do not work very well together. You may go to your +room now and get your hat and shawl. I shall have the letter written +in a very few minutes. There will be no use appealing to mamma. You +ought to know by this time we overrule her objections always." + +It was too true, Mrs. Glenn never had much voice in a matter where +Bess or Gertie had decided the case. + +Like one in a dream Daisy turned from them. She never remembered how +she gained her own room. With cold, tremulous fingers she fastened her +hat, tucking the bright golden hair carefully beneath her veil, and +threw her shawl over her shoulders, just as Gertie approached, letter +in hand. + +"You need not go around by the main road," she said, "there is a much +nearer path leading down to the stone wall. You need not wait for an +answer: there will be none. The servants over there are awkward, +blundering creatures--do not trust it to them--you must deliver it to +Rex himself." + +"I make one last appeal to you, Miss Gertie. Indeed, it is not pride +that prompts me. I could not bear it. Have pity on me. You are gentle +and kind to others; please, oh, please be merciful to me!" + +"I have nothing more to say upon the subject--I have said you were to +go. You act as if I were sending you to some place where you might +catch the scarlet fever or the mumps. You amuse me; upon my word you +do. Rex is not dangerous, neither is he a Bluebeard; his only fault is +being alarmingly handsome. The best advice I can give you is, don't +admire him too much. He should be labeled, 'Out of the market.'" + +Gertie tripped gayly from the room, her crimson satin ribbons +fluttering after her, leaving a perceptible odor of violets in the +room, while Daisy clutched the note in her cold, nervous grasp, +walking like one in a terrible dream through the bright patches of +glittering moonlight, through the sweet-scented, rose-bordered path, +on through the dark shadows of the trees toward the home of Rex--her +husband. + +A soft, brooding silence lay over the sleeping earth as Daisy, with a +sinking heart, drew near the house. Her soft footfalls on the green +mossy earth made no sound. + +Silently as a shadow she crept up to the blossom-covered porch; some +one was standing there, leaning against the very pillar around which +she had twined her arms as she watched Rex's shadow on the roses. + +The shifting moonbeams pierced the white, fleecy clouds that enveloped +them, and as he turned his face toward her she saw it was Rex. She +could almost have reached out her hand and touched him from where she +stood. She was sorely afraid her face or her voice might startle him +if she spoke to him suddenly. + +"I do not need to speak," she thought. "I will go up to him and lay +the letter in his hand." + +Then a great intense longing came over her to hear his voice and know +that he was speaking to her. She had quite decided to pursue this +course, when the rustle of a silken garment fell upon her ear. She +knew the light tread of the slippered feet but too well--it was Pluma. +She went up to him in her usual caressing fashion, laying her white +hand on his arm. + +"Do you know you have been standing here quite two hours, Rex, +watching the shadows of the vine-leaves? I have longed to come up and +ask you what interest those dancing shadows had for you, but I could +not make up my mind to disturb you. I often fancy you do not know how +much time you spend in thought." + +Pluma was wondering if he was thinking of that foolish, romantic fancy +that had come so near separating them--his boyish fancy for Daisy +Brooks, their overseer's niece. No, surely not. He must have forgotten +her long ago. + +"These reveries seem to have grown into a habit with me," he said, +dreamily; "almost a second nature, of late. If you were to come and +talk to me at such times, you would break me of it." + +The idea pleased her. A bright flush rose to her face, and she made +him some laughing reply, and he looked down upon her with a kindly +smile. + +Oh! the torture of it to the poor young wife standing watching them, +with heart on fire in the deep shadow of the crimson-hearted +passion-flowers that quivered on the intervening vines. The letter she +held in her hand slipped from her fingers into the bushes all +unheeded. She had but one thought--she must get away. The very air +seemed to stifle her; her heart seemed numb--an icy band seemed +pressing round it, and her poor forehead was burning hot. It did not +matter much where she went, nobody loved her, nobody cared for her. As +softly as she came, she glided down the path that led to the +entrance-gate beyond. She passed through the moonlighted grounds, +where the music and fragrance of the summer night was at its height. +The night wind stirred the pink clover and the blue-bells beneath her +feet. Her eyes were hot and dry; tears would have been a world of +relief to her, but none came to her parched eyelids. + +She paid little heed to the direction she took. One idea alone took +possession of her--she must get away. + +"If I could only go back to dear old Uncle John," she sighed. "His +love has never failed me." + +It seemed long years back since she had romped with him, a happy, +merry child, over the cotton fields, and he had called her his sunbeam +during all those years when no one lived at Whitestone Hall and the +wild ivy climbed riotously over the windows and doors. Even Septima's +voice would have sounded so sweet to her. She would have lived over +again those happy, childish days, if she only could. She remembered +how Septima would send her to the brook for water, and how she +sprinkled every flower in the path-way that bore her name; and how +Septima would scold her when she returned with her bucket scarce half +full; and how she had loved to dream away those sunny summer days, +lying under the cool, shady trees, listening to the songs the robins +sang as they glanced down at her with their little sparkling eyes. + +How she had dreamed of the gallant young hero who was to come to her +some day. She had wondered how she would know him, and what were the +words he first would say! If he would come riding by, as the judge did +when "Maud Muller stood in the hay-fields;" and she remembered, too, +the story of "Rebecca at the Well." A weary smile flitted over her +face as she remembered when she went to the brook she had always put +on her prettiest blue ribbons, in case she might meet her hero. + +Oh, those sweet, bright, rosy dreams of girlhood! What a pity it is +they do not last forever! Those girlish dreams, where glowing fancy +reigns supreme, and the prosaic future is all unknown. She remembered +her meeting with Rex, how every nerve in her whole being thrilled, and +how she had felt her cheeks grow flaming hot, just as she had read +they would do when she met the right one. That was how she had known +Rex was the right one when she had shyly glanced up, from under her +long eyelashes, into the gay, brown hazel eyes, fixed upon her so +quizzically, as he took the heavy basket from her slender arms, that +never-to-be-forgotten June day, beneath the blossoming magnolia-tree. + +Poor child! her life had been a sad romance since then. How strange it +was she was fleeing from the young husband whom she had married and +was so quickly parted from! + +All this trouble had come about because she had so courageously +rescued her letter from Mme. Whitney. + +"If he had not bound me to secrecy, I could have have cried out before +the whole world I was his wife," she thought. + +A burning flush rose to her face as she thought how cruelly he had +suspected her, this poor little child-bride who had never known one +wrong or sinful thought in her pure, innocent young life. + +If he had only given her the chance of explaining how she had happened +to be there with Stanwick; if they had taken her back she must have +confessed about the letter and who Rex was and what he was to her. + +Even Stanwick's persecution found an excuse in her innocent, +unsuspecting little heart. + +"He sought to save me from being taken back when he called me his +wife," she thought. "He believed I was free to woo and win, because I +dared not tell him I was Rex's wife." Yet the thought of Stanwick +always brought a shudder to her pure young mind. She could not +understand why he would have resorted to such desperate means to gain +an unwilling bride. + +"Not yet seventeen. Ah, what a sad love-story hers had been. How +cruelly love's young dream had been blighted," she told herself; and +yet she would not have exchanged that one thrilling, ecstatic moment +of rapture when Rex had clasped her in his arms and whispered: "My +darling wife," for a whole lifetime of calm happiness with any one +else. + +On and on she walked through the violet-studded grass, thinking--thinking. +Strange fancies came thronging to her overwrought brain. She pushed her +veil back from her face and leaned against the trunk of a tree; her brain +was dizzy and her thoughts were confused; the very stars seemed dancing +riotously in the blue sky above her, and the branches of the trees were +whispering strange fancies. Suddenly a horseman, riding a coal-black +charger, came cantering swiftly up the long avenue of trees. He saw the +quiet figure standing leaning against the drooping branches. + +"I will inquire the way," he said to himself, drawing rein beside her. +"Can you tell me, madame, if this is the most direct road leading to +Glengrove and that vicinity? I am looking for a hostelry near it. I +seem to have lost my way. Will you kindly direct me?" he asked, "or to +the home of Mr. Rex Lyon?" + +The voice sounded strangely familiar to Daisy. She was dimly conscious +some one was speaking to her. She raised her face up and gazed at the +speaker. The cold, pale moonlight fell full upon it, clearly revealing +its strange, unearthly whiteness, and the bright flashing eyes, gazing +dreamily past the terror-stricken man looking down on her, with white, +livid lips and blanched, horror-stricken face. His eyes almost leaped +from their sockets in abject terror, as Lester Stanwick gazed on the +upturned face by the roadside. + +"My God, do I dream?" he cried, clutching at the pommel of his saddle. +"Is this the face of Daisy Brooks, or is it a specter, unable to sleep +in the depths of her tomb, come back to haunt me for driving her to +her doom?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +Rex and Pluma talked for some time out in the moonlight, then Rex +excused himself, and on the plea of having important business letters +to write retired to the library. + +For some minutes Pluma leaned thoughtfully against the railing. The +night was still and clear; the moon hung over the dark trees; floods +of silvery light bathed the waters of the glittering sea, the sleeping +flowers and the grass, and on the snowy orange-blossoms and golden +fruit amid the green foliage. + +"I shall always love this fair southern home," she thought, a bright +light creeping into her dark, dazzling eyes. "I am Fortune's +favorite," she said, slowly. "I shall have the one great prize I covet +most on earth. I shall win Rex at last. I wonder at the change in him. +There was a time when I believed he loved me. Could it be handsome, +refined, courteous Rex had more than a passing fancy for Daisy +Brooks--simple, unpretentious Daisy Brooks? Thank God she is dead!" +she cried, vehemently. "I would have periled my very soul to have won +him." + +Even as the thought shaped itself in her mind, a dark form stepped +cautiously forward. + +She was not startled; a passing wonder as to who it might be struck +her. She did not think much about it; a shadow in the moonlight did +not frighten her. + +"Pluma!" called a low, cautious voice, "come down into the garden; I +must speak with you. It is I, Lester Stanwick." + +In a single instant the soft love-light had faded from her face, +leaving it cold, proud, and pitiless. A vague, nameless dread seized +her. She was a courageous girl; she would not let him know it. + +"The mad fool!" she cried, clinching her white jeweled hands together. +"Why does he follow me here? What shall I do? I must buy him off at +any cost. I dare not defy him. Better temporize with him." She +muttered the words aloud, and she was shocked to see how changed and +hoarse her own voice sounded. "Women have faced more deadly peril than +this," she muttered, "and cleverly outwitted ingenious foes. I _must_ +win by stratagem." + +She quickly followed the tall figure down the path that divided the +little garden from the shrubbery. + +"I knew you would not refuse me, Pluma," he said, clasping her hands +and kissing her cold lips. He noticed the glance she gave him had +nothing in it but coldness and annoyance. "You do not tell me you are +pleased to see me, Pluma, and yet you have promised to be my wife." +She stood perfectly still leaning against an oleander-tree. "Why don't +you speak to me, Pluma?" he cried. "By Heaven! I am almost beginning +to mistrust you. You remember your promise," he said, hurriedly--"if I +removed the overseer's niece from your path you were to reward me +with your heart and hand." She would have interrupted him, but he +silenced her with a gesture. "You said your love for Rex had turned to +bitter hatred. You found he loved the girl, and that would be a +glorious revenge. I did not have to resort to abducting her from the +seminary as we had planned. The bird flew into my grasp. I would have +placed her in the asylum you selected, but she eluded me by leaping +into the pit. I have been haunted by her face night and day ever +since. I see her face in crowds, in the depths of the silent forest, +her specter appears before me until I fly from it like one accursed." + +She could not stay the passionate torrent of his words. + +"Lester, this is all a mistake," she said; "you have not given me a +chance to speak." Her hands dropped nervously by her side. There were +fierce, rebellious thoughts in her heart, but she dare not give them +utterance. "What have I done to deserve all this?" she asked, trying +to assume a tender tone she was far from feeling. + +"What have you done?" he cried, hoarsely. "Why, I left you at +Whitestone Hall, feeling secure in the belief that I had won you. +Returning suddenly and unexpectedly, I found you had gone to Florida, +to the home of Rex Lyon. Do you know what I would have done, Pluma, if +I had found you his wife and false to your trust?" + +"You forget yourself, Lester," she said; "gentlemen never threaten +women." + +He bit his lip angrily. + +"There are extreme cases of desperation," he made reply. "You must +keep your promise," he said, determinedly. "No other man must dare +speak to you of love." + +She saw the angry light flame into his eyes, and trembled under her +studied composure; yet not the quiver of an eyelid betrayed her +emotion. She had not meant to quarrel with him; for once in her life +she forgot her prudence. + +"Suppose that, by exercise of any power you think you possess, you +could really compel me to be your wife, do you think it would benefit +you? I would learn to despise you. What would you gain by it?" + +The answer sprung quickly to his lips: "The one great point for which +I am striving--possession of Whitestone Hall;" but he was too +diplomatic to utter the words. She saw a lurid light in his eyes. + +"You shall be my wife," he said, gloomily. "If you have been +cherishing any hope of winning Rex Lyon, abandon it at once. As a +last resort, I would explain to him how cleverly you removed the +pretty little girl he loved from his path." + +"You dare not!" she cried, white to the very lips. "You have forgotten +your own share in that little affair. Who would believe you acted upon +a woman's bidding? You would soon be called to account for it. You +forget that little circumstance, Lester; you dare not go to Rex!" He +knew what she said was perfectly true. He had not intended going to +Rex; he knew it would be as much as his life was worth to encounter +him. He was aware his name had been coupled with Daisy's in the +journals which had described her tragic death. He knew Rex had fallen +madly, desperately in love with little Daisy Brooks, but he did not +dream he had made her his wife. "You have not given me time to explain +why I am here." + +"I have heard all about it," he answered, impatiently; "but I do not +understand why they sent for you." + +"Mrs. Lyon requested it," she replied, quietly. "Rex simply obeyed her +wishes." + +"Perhaps she looked upon you as her future daughter-in-law," sneered +Lester, covertly. "I have followed you to Florida to prevent it; I +would follow you to the ends of the earth to prevent it! A promise to +me can not be lightly broken." + +Not a feature of that proud face quivered to betray the sharp spasm of +fear that darted through her heart. + +"You should have waited until you had cause to reproach me, Lester," +she said, drawing her wrap closer about her and shivering as if with +cold. "I must go back to the house now; some one might miss me." + +He made no reply. The wind bent the reeds, and the waves of the sea +dashed up on the distant beach with a long, low wash. He was wondering +how far she was to be trusted. + +"You may have perfect confidence in me, Lester," she said; "my word +ought to be sufficient," as if quite divining his thoughts. "You need +have no fear; I will be true to you." + +"I shall remain away until this affair has blown over," he replied. "I +can live as well in one part of the country as another, thanks to the +income my father left me." He laid great stress on the last sentence; +he wanted to impress her with the fact that he had plenty of money. +"She must never know," he told himself, "that he had so riotously +squandered the vast inheritance that had been left him, and he was +standing on the verge of ruin." A marriage with the wealthy heiress +would save him at the eleventh hour. "I will trust you, Pluma," he +continued. "I know, you will keep your vow." + +The false ring of apparent candor did not deceive her; she knew it +would be a case of diamond cut diamond. + +"That is spoken like your own generous self, Lester," she said, +softly, clasping his hands in her own white, jeweled ones. "You pained +me by your distrust." + +He saw she was anxious to get away from him, and he bit his lip with +vexation; her pretty, coaxing manner did not deceive him one whit, yet +he clasped his arms in a very lover-like fashion around her as he +replied: + +"Forget that it ever existed, my darling. Where there is such ardent, +passionate love, there is always more or less jealousy and fear. Do +you realize I am making an alien of myself for your sweet sake? I +could never refuse you a request. Your slightest will has been my law. +Be kind to me, Pluma." + +She did try to be more than agreeable and fascinating. + +"I must remove all doubts from his mind," she thought. "I shall +probably be Rex's wife when we meet again. Then his threats will be +useless; I will scornfully deny it. He has no proofs." + +She talked to him so gracefully, so tenderly, at times, he was almost +tempted to believe she actually cared for him more than she would +admit. Still he allowed it would do no harm to keep a strict watch of +her movements. + +"Good-bye, Pluma, dearest," he said, "I shall keep you constantly +advised of my whereabouts. As soon as matters can be arranged +satisfactorily, I am coming back to claim you." + +Another moment and she was alone, walking slowly back to the house, a +very torrent of anger in her proud, defiant heart. + +"I must hurry matters up, delays are dangerous," she thought, walking +slowly up the broad path toward the house. + + * * * * * + +Slowly the long hours of the night dragged themselves by, yet Daisy +did not return to Glengrove. The hours lengthened into days, and days +into weeks, still there was no trace of her to be found. Gertie's +explanation readily accounted for her absence. + +"She preferred to leave us rather than deliver my note," she said, +angrily; "and I for one am not sorry she has gone." + +"Rex did not mention having received it," said Bess, "when he came +with Birdie to bid us good-bye." + +"She probably read it and destroyed it," said Gertie, "Well, there was +nothing in it very particular. Toward the last of it I mentioned I +would send the note over by Daisy Brooks, my mother's companion. More +than likely she took umbrage at that." + +"That was a very unkind remark," asserted Eve. "You had no business to +mention it at all; it was uncalled for." + +"Well, she would not have known it if she had not read it," replied +Gertie. "You must admit that." + +Mrs. Glenn felt sorely troubled. In the short time Daisy had been with +her she had put unlimited confidence in her. + +No one thought of searching for her; they all accepted the facts as +the case presented itself to them. Daisy had certainly left them of +her own free will. + +Eve alone felt distressed. + +"I know everything looks that way, but I shall never believe it," she +cried. + +She remembered the conversation she had so lately had with Daisy. How +she had clasped her loving little arms about her neck, crying out: + +"Pray for me, Eve. I am sorely tried. My feet are on the edge of a +precipice. No matter what I may be tempted to do, do not lose faith in +me, Eve; always believe in me." + +Poor little Daisy! what was the secret sorrow that was goading her on +to madness? Would she ever know? + +Where was she now? Ah, who could tell? + +A curious change seemed to come over romping, mischievous, merry Eve; +she had grown silent and thoughtful. + +"I could never believe any one in this world was true or pure again if +I thought for one moment deceit lay brooding in a face so fair as +little Daisy Brooks's." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +The months flew quickly by; the cold winter had slipped away, and the +bright green grass and early violets were sprinkling the distant +hill-slopes. The crimson-breasted robins were singing in the budding +branches of the trees, and all Nature reminded one the glorious spring +had come. + +Rex Lyon stood upon the porch of Whitestone Hall gazing up at the +white, fleecy clouds that scudded over the blue sky, lost in deep +thought. + +He was the same handsome, debonair Rex, but ah, how changed! The +merry, laughing brown eyes looked silent and grave enough now, and the +lips the drooping brown mustache covered rarely smiled. Even his voice +seemed to have a deeper tone. + +He had done the one thing that morning which his mother had asked him +to do with her dying breath--he had asked Pluma Hurlhurst to be his +wife. + +The torture of the task seemed to grow upon him as the weeks rolled +by, and in desperation he told himself he must settle the matter at +once, or he would not have the strength to do it. + +He never once thought what he should do with his life after he married +her. He tried to summon up courage to tell her the story of his +marriage, that his hopes, his heart, and his love all lay in the grave +of his young wife. Poor Rex, he could not lay bare that sweet, sad +secret; he could not have borne her questions, her wonder, her +remarks, and have lived; his dead love was far too sacred for that; he +could not take the treasured love-story from his heart and hold it up +to public gaze. It would have been easier for him to tear the living, +beating heart from his breast than to do this. + +He had walked into the parlor that morning, where he knew he should +find Pluma. She was standing before the fire. Although it was early +spring the mornings were chilly, and a cheerful fire burned in the +grate, throwing a bright, glowing radiance over the room and over the +exquisite morning toilet of white cashmere, with its white lace +frills, relieved here and there with coquettish dashes of scarlet +blossoms, which Pluma wore, setting off her graceful figure to such +queenly advantage. + +Rex looked at her, at the imperious beauty any man might have been +proud to win, secretly hoping she would refuse him. + +"Good-morning, Rex," she said, holding out her white hands to him. "I +am glad you have come to talk to me. I was watching you walking up and +down under the trees, and you looked so lonely I half made up my mind +to join you." + +A lovely color was deepening in her cheeks, and her eyes drooped +shyly. He broke right into the subject at once while he had the +courage to do it. + +"I have something to say to you, Pluma," he began, leading her to an +adjacent sofa and seating himself beside her. "I want to ask you if +you will be my wife." He looked perhaps the more confused of the two. +"I will do my best to make you happy," he continued. "I can not say +that I will make a model husband, but I will say I will do my best." + +There was a minute's silence, awkward enough for both. + +"You have asked me to be your wife, Rex, but you have not said one +word of loving me." + +The remark was so unexpected Rex seemed for a few moments to be +unable to reply to it. Looking at the eager, expectant face turned +toward him, it appeared ungenerous and unkind not to give her one +affectionate word. Yet he did not know how to say it; he had never +spoken a loving word to any one except Daisy, his fair little +child-bride. + +He tried hard to put the memory of Daisy away from him as he +answered: + +"The question is so important that most probably I have thought more +of it than of any words which should go with it." + +"Oh, that is it," returned Pluma, with a wistful little laugh. "Most +men, when they ask women to marry them, say something of love, do they +not?" + +"Yes," he replied, absently. + +"You have had no experience," laughed Pluma, archly. + +She was sorely disappointed. She had gone over in her own imagination +this very scene a thousand times, of the supreme moment he would clasp +his arms around her, telling her in glowing, passionate words how +dearly he loved her and how wretched his life would be without her. He +did nothing of the kind. + +Rex was thinking he would have given anything to have been able to +make love to her--anything for the power of saying tender words--she +looked so loving. + +Her dark, beautiful face was so near him, and her graceful figure so +close, that he could have wound his arm around her, but he did not. In +spite of every resolve, he thought of Daisy the whole time. How +different that other love-making had been! How his heart throbbed, and +every endearing name he could think of trembled on his lips, as he +strained Daisy to his heart when she had bashfully consented to be his +wife! + +That love-making was real substance; this one only the shadow of +love. + +"You have not answered my question, Pluma. Will you be my wife?" + +Pluma raised her dark, beautiful face, radiant with the light of love, +to his. + +"If I consent will you promise to love me better than anything else or +any one in the wide world?" + +"I will devote my whole life to you, study your every wish," he +answered, evasively. + +How was she to know he had given all his heart to Daisy? + +She held out her hands to him with a charming gesture of affection. He +took them and kissed them; he could do neither more nor less. + +"I will be your wife, Rex," she said, with a tremulous, wistful sigh. + +"Thank you, Pluma," he returned, gently, bending down and kissing the +beautiful crimson lips; "you shall never regret it. You are so kind, +I am going to impose on your good nature. You have promised me you +will be my wife--when may I claim you, Pluma?" + +"Do you wish it to be soon?" she asked, hesitatingly, wondering how he +would answer her. + +"Yes," he said, absently; "the sooner it is over the better I shall be +pleased." + +She looked up into his face, at a loss how to interpret the words. + +"You shall set the day, Rex," she replied. + +"I have your father's consent that it may take place just as soon as +possible, in case you promised to marry me," he said. "Suppose it +takes place in a fortnight, say--will that be too soon for you?" + +She gave a little scream of surprise. "As soon as that?" she murmured; +but ended by readily consenting. + +He thanked her and kissed her once more. After a few quiet words they +parted--she, happy in the glamour of her love-dream; he, praying to +Heaven from the depths of his miserable heart, to give him strength to +carry out the rash vow which had been wrung from his unwilling lips. + +In his heart Rex knew no one but Daisy could ever reign. Dead, he was +devoted to her memory. + +His life was narrowing down. He was all kindness, consideration and +devotion; but the one supreme magnet of all--love--was wanting. + +In vain Pluma exerted all her wondrous powers of fascination to win +him more completely. How little he dreamed of the depths of love which +controlled that passionate heart, every throb of which was for +him--that to have won from him one token of warm affection she would +have given all she held dear in this world. + +"How does it happen, Rex," she asked, one evening, "you have not asked +me to sing to you since you have asked me to be your wife? Music used +to be such a bond of sympathy between us." + +There was both love and reproach in her voice. He heard neither. He +had simply forgotten it. + +"I have been thinking of other things, I presume. Allow me to make up +for it at once, however, by asking you if you will sing for me now." + +The tears came to her dark, flashing eyes, but she forced them bravely +back. She had hoped he would clasp her in his arms, whispering some +sweet compliment, then say to her "Darling, won't you sing to me +now?" + +She swept toward the piano with the air of a queen. + +"I want you to sit where I can see you, Rex," she demanded, prettily; +"I like to watch your face when I sing you my favorite songs." + +Rex drew his chair up close to the piano, laying his head back +dreamily against the crimson cushions. He would not be obliged to +talk; for once--just once--he would let his fancies roam where they +would. He had often heard Pluma sing before, but never in the way +she sung to-night. A low, thrilling, seductive voice full of +pleading, passionate tenderness--a voice that whispered of the +sweet irresistible power of love, that carried away the hearts of +her listeners as a strong current carries a leaflet. + +Was it a dream, or was it the night wind breathing the name of Daisy? +The tears rose in his eyes, and he started to his feet, pale and +trembling with agitation. Suddenly the music ceased. + +"I did not think such a simple little melody had power to move you," +she said. + +"Is it a new song?" he asked. "I do not remember having heard it +before. What is the title of it?" + +He did not notice her face had grown slightly pale under the soft, +pearly light of the gleaming lamps, as she held the music out toward +him. + +"It is a pretty title," she said, in her low, musical voice, "'Daisies +Growing o'er my Darling's Grave.'" + +In the terrible look of agony that swept over his handsome face, Pluma +read the secret of his life; the one secret she had dreaded stood as +clearly revealed to her as though it had been stamped in glowing +letters upon his brow. She would have stood little chance of being +Rex's wife if Daisy Brooks had lived. + +Who would have dreamed the beautiful, proud young heiress could have +cursed the very memory of the young girl whom she believed to be +dead--lying all uncared for in a neglected, lonely grave? + +Rex felt sorely disturbed. He never remembered how the remainder of +the evening passed. Ah, heavens! how his mind wandered back to that +sweet love-dream so cruelly broken. A mist as of tears spread before +his eyes, and shut the whole world from him as he glanced out of the +window and up at the star-gemmed sky--that was his Daisy's home. + +"I hope my little song has not cast a gloom over you, Rex?" she said, +holding out her hands to him as she arose to bid him good-night--those +small white hands upon one of which his engagement-ring glowed with a +thousand prismatic hues. + +"Why should it?" he asked, attempting to laugh lightly. "I admired it +perhaps more than any other I have ever heard you sing." + +Pluma well knew why. + +"It was suggested to me by a strange occurrence. Shall I relate it to +you, Rex?" + +He made some indistinct answer, little dreaming of how wofully the +little anecdote would affect him. + +"I do not like to bring up old, unpleasant subjects, Rex. But do you +remember what the only quarrel we ever had was about, or rather _who_ +it was about?" + +He looked at her in surprise; he had not the least idea of what she +alluded to. + +"Do you remember what a romantic interest you once took in our +overseer's niece--the one who eloped with Lester Stanwick from +boarding-school--the one whose death we afterward read of? Her name +was Daisy--Daisy Brooks." + +If she had suddenly plunged a dagger into his heart with her white +jeweled hands he could not have been more cruelly startled. He could +have cried aloud with the sharp pain of unutterable anguish that +memory brought him. His answer was a bow; he dared not look up lest +the haggard pain of his face should betray him. + +"Her uncle (he was no relation, I believe, but she called him that) +was more fond of her than words can express. I was driving along by an +unfrequented road to-day when I came across a strange, pathetic sight. +The poor old man was putting the last touches to a plain wooden cross +he had just erected under a magnolia-tree, which bore the simple +words: 'To the memory of Daisy Brooks, aged sixteen years.' Around the +cross the grass was thickly sown with daisies. + +"'She does not rest here,' the old man said, drawing his rough sleeve +across his tear-dimmed eyes; 'but the poor little girl loved this spot +best of any.'" + +Pluma wondered why Rex took her just then in his arms for the first +time and kissed her. He was thanking her in his heart; he could have +knelt to her for the kind way she had spoken of Daisy. + +A little later he was standing by the open window of his own room in +the moonlight. + +"My God!" he cried, burying his face in his hands, "this poor John +Brooks did what I, her husband, should have done; but it is not +too late now. I shall honor your memory, my darling; I shall have +a costly marble monument erected to your memory, bearing the +inscription: 'Sacred to the memory of Daisy, beloved wife of Rex Lyon, +aged sixteen years.' Not Daisy Brooks, but Daisy Lyon. Mother is dead, +what can secrecy avail now?" + +He would not tell Pluma until the last moment. Straightway he ordered +a magnificent monument from Baltimore--one of pure unblemished white, +with an angel with drooping wings overlooking the tall white pillar. + +When it arrived he meant to take Pluma there, and, reverently kneeling +down before her, tell her all the story of his sweet, sad love-dream +with his face pressed close against the cold, pulseless marble--tell +her of the love-dream which had left him but the ashes of dead hope. +He sealed the letter and placed it with the out-going morning mail. + +"Darling, how I wish I had not parted from you that night!" he +sighed. + +How bitterly he regretted he could not live that one brief hour of his +past life over again--how differently he would act! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +While Rex was penning his all-important letter in his room, Pluma was +walking restlessly to and fro in her boudoir, conning over in her mind +the events of the evening. + +Rex had asked her to be his wife, but she stood face to face with the +truth at last--he did not love her. It was not only a blow of the +keenest and cruelest kind to her affection, but it was the cruelest +blow her vanity could possibly have received. + +To think that she, the wealthy, petted heiress, who counted her +admirers by the score, should have tried so hard to win the love of +this one man and have failed; that her beauty, her grace, her wit, and +her talent had been lavished upon him, and lavished in vain. "Was that +simple girl, with her shy, timid, shrinking manner, more lovable than +I?" she asked herself, incredulously. + +She could not realize it--she, whose name was on the lips of men, who +praised her as the queen of beauty, and whom fair women envied as one +who had but to will to win. + +It seemed to her a cruel mockery of fate that she, who had everything +the world could give--beauty and fortune--should ask but this one +gift, and that it should be refused her--the love of the man who had +asked her to be his wife. + +Was it impossible that he should learn to love her? + +She told herself that she should take courage, that she would +persevere, that her great love must in time prevail. + +"I must never let him find me dull or unhappy," she thought. "I must +carefully hide all traces of pique or annoyance." + +She would do her best to entertain him, and make it the study of her +life to win his love. + +She watched the stars until they faded from the skies, then buried her +face in her pillow, falling into an uneasy slumber, through which a +beautiful, flower-like, girlish face floated, and a slight, delicate +form knelt at her feet holding her arms out imploringly, sobbing out: + +"Do not take him from me--he is my world--I love him!" + +And with a heart racked by terrible jealousy, Pluma turned uneasily on +her pillow and opened her eyes. The stars were still glimmering in the +moonlighted sky. + +"Is the face of Daisy Brooks ever to haunt me thus?" she cried out, +impatiently. "How was I to know she was to die?" she muttered, +excitedly. "I simply meant to have Stanwick abduct her from the +seminary that Rex might believe him her lover and turn to me for +sympathy. I will not think of it," she cried; "I am not one to flinch +from a course of action I have marked out for myself, no matter what +the consequences may be, if I only gain Rex's love." + +And Pluma, the bride soon to be, turned her flushed face again to the +wall to dream again of Daisy Brooks. + +She little dreamed Rex, too, was watching the stars, as wakeful as +she, thinking of the past. + +Then he prayed Heaven to help him, so that no unworthy thought should +enter his mind. After that he slept, and one of the most painful days +of his life was ended. + +The days at Whitestone Hall flew by on rapid wings in a round of +gayety. The Hall was crowded with young folks, who were to remain +until after the marriage. Dinner parties were followed by May-pole +dances out on the green lawns, and by charades and balls in the +evening. The old Hall had never echoed with such frolicsome mirth +before. Rex plunged into the excitement with strange zest. No one +guessed that beneath his winning, careless smile his heart was almost +breaking. + +One morning Pluma was standing alone on the vine-covered terrace, +waiting for Rex, who had gone out to try a beautiful spirited horse +that had just been added to the stables of Whitestone Hall. She +noticed he had taken the unfrequented road the magnolia-trees shaded. +That fact bore no significance, certainly; still there was a strong +feeling of jealousy in her heart as she remembered that little wooden +cross he would be obliged to pass. Would he stop there? She could not +tell. + +"How I love him--and how foolish I am!" she laughed, nervously. "I +have no rival, yet I am jealous of his very thoughts, lest they dwell +on any one else but myself. I do not see how it is," she said, +thoughtfully, to herself, "why people laugh at love, and think it +weakness or a girl's sentimental folly. Why, it is the strongest of +human passions!" + +She heard people speak of her approaching marriage as "a grand +match"--she heard him spoken of as a wealthy Southerner, and she +laughed a proud, happy, rippling laugh. She was marrying Rex for love; +she had given him the deepest, truest love of her heart. + +Around a bend in the terrace she heard approaching footsteps and the +rippling of girlish laughter. + +"I can not have five minutes to myself to think," she said to herself, +drawing hastily back behind the thick screen of leaves until they +should pass. She did not feel in the humor just then to listen to Miss +Raynor's chatter or pretty Grace Alden's gossip. + +"Of course every one has a right to their own opinion," Grace was +saying, with a toss of her pretty nut-brown curls, "and I, for one, do +not believe he cares for her one whit." + +"It is certainly very strange," responded Miss Raynor, thoughtfully. +"Every one can see she is certainly in love with Rex; but I am afraid +it is quite a one-sided affair." + +"Yes," said Grace, laughing shyly, "a _very_ one-sided affair. Why, +have you ever noticed them together--how Pluma watches his face and +seems to live on his smiles? And as for Rex, he always seems to be +looking over her head into the distance, as though he saw something +there far more interesting than the face of his bride-to-be. That +doesn't look much like love or a contented lover." + +"If you had seen him this morning you might well say he did not look +contented," replied Miss Raynor, mysteriously. "I was out for a +morning ramble, and, feeling a little tired, I sat down on a +moss-covered stone to rest. Hearing the approaching clatter of a +horse's hoofs, I looked up and saw Rex Lyon coming leisurely down the +road. I could not tell you what prompted me to do it, but I drew +quietly back behind the overhanging alder branches that skirted the +brook, admiring him all unseen." + +"Oh, dear!" cried Grace, merrily, "this is almost too good to keep. +Who would imagine dignified Miss Raynor peeping admiringly at +handsome Rex, screened by the shadows of the alders!" + +"Now don't be ridiculous, Grace, or I shall be tempted not to tell you +the most interesting part," returned Miss Raynor, flushing hotly. + +"Oh, that would be too cruel," cried Grace, who delighted on anything +bordering on mystery. "Do tell it." + +"Well," continued Miss Raynor, dropping her voice to a lower key, +"when he was quite opposite me, he suddenly stopped short and quickly +dismounted from his horse, and picked up from the roadside a handful +of wild flowers." + +"What in the world could he want with them?" cried Grace, incredulously. + +"Want with them!" echoed Miss Raynor. "Why, he pressed them to his +lips, murmuring passionate, loving words over them. For one brief +instant his face was turned toward me, and I saw there were tears +standing in his eyes, and there was a look on his face I shall never +forget to my dying day. There was such hopeless woe upon it--indeed +one might have almost supposed, by the expression of his face, he was +waiting for his death-sentence to be pronounced instead of a marriage +ceremony, which was to give him the queenly heiress of Whitestone Hall +for a bride." + +"Perhaps there is some hidden romance in the life of handsome Rex the +world does not know of," suggested Grace, sagely. + +"I hope not," replied Miss Raynor. "I would hate to be a rival of +Pluma Hurlhurst's. I have often thought, as I watched her with Rex, it +must be terrible to worship one person so madly. I have often thought +Pluma's a perilous love." + +"Do not speak so," cried Grace. "You horrify me. Whenever I see her +face I am afraid those words will be ringing in my ears--a perilous +love." + +Miss Raynor made some laughing rejoinder which Pluma, white and +trembling behind the ivy vines, did not catch, and still discussing +the affair, they moved on, leaving Pluma Hurlhurst standing alone, +face to face with the truth, which she had hoped against hope was +false. Rex, who was so soon to be her husband, was certainly not her +lover. + +Her keen judgment had told her long ago all this had come about +through his mother's influence. + +Every word those careless lips had uttered came back to her heart with +a cruel stab. + +"Even my guests are noticing his coldness," she cried, with a +hysterical little sob. "They are saying to each other, 'He does not +love me'--I, who have counted my triumphs by the scores. I have +revealed my love in every word, tone and glance, but I can not awaken +one sentiment in his proud, cold heart." + +When she remembered the words, "He pressed them to his lips, murmuring +passionate, loving words over them," she almost cried aloud in her +fierce, angry passion. She knew, just as well as though she had +witnessed him herself, that those wild flowers were daisies, and she +knew, too, why he had kissed them so passionately. She saw the sun +shining on the trees, the flower-beds were great squares and circles +of color, the fountains sparkled in the sunlight, and restless +butterflies flitted hither and thither. + +For Pluma Hurlhurst, after that hour, the sunshine never had the same +light, the flowers the same color, her face the same smile, or her +heart the same joyousness. + +Never did "good and evil" fight for a human heart as they struggled in +that hour in the heart of the beautiful, willful heiress. All the +fire, the passion, and recklessness of her nature were aroused. + +"I will make him love me or I will die!" she cried, vehemently. "The +love I long for shall be mine. I swear it, cost what it may!" + +She was almost terribly beautiful to behold, as that war of passion +raged within her. + +She saw a cloud of dust arising in the distance. She knew it was Rex +returning, but no bright flush rose to her cheek as she remembered +what Miss Raynor had said of the wild flowers he had so rapturously +caressed--he had given a few rank wild flowers the depths of a +passionate love which he had never shown to her, whom he had asked to +be his wife. + +She watched him as he approached nearer and nearer, so handsome, so +graceful, so winning, one of his white hands carelessly resting on the +spirited animal's proudly arched, glossy neck, and with the other +raising his hat from his brown curls in true courtly cavalier fashion +to her, as he saw her standing there, apparently awaiting him on the +rose-covered terrace. + +He looked so handsome and lovable Pluma might have forgotten her +grievance had she not at that moment espied, fastened to the lapel of +his coat, a cluster of golden-hearted daisies. + +That sight froze the light in her dark, passionate eyes and the +welcome that trembled on her scarlet lips. + +He leaped lightly from the saddle, and came quickly forward to meet +her, and then drew back with a start. + +"What is the matter, Pluma?" he asked, in wonder. + +"Nothing," she replied, keeping her eyes fastened as if fascinated on +the offending daisies he wore on his breast. + +"I left you an hour ago smiling and happy. I find you white and worn. +There are strange lights in your eyes like the slumbrous fire of a +volcano; even your voice seems to have lost its tenderness. What is +it, Pluma?" + +She raised her dark, proud face to his. There was a strange story +written on it, but he could not tell what it was. + +"It--it is nothing. The day is warm, and I am tired, that is all." + +"You are not like the same Pluma who kissed me when I was going away," +he persisted. "Since I left this house something has come between you +and me. What is it, Pluma?" + +She looked up to him with a proud gesture that was infinitely +charming. + +"Is anything likely to come between us?" she asked. + +"No; not that I know of," he answered, growing more and more puzzled. + +"Then why imagine it?" she asked. + +"Because you are so changed, Pluma," he said. "I shall never perhaps +know the cause of your strange manner toward me, but I shall always +feel sure it is something which concerns myself. You look at me as +though you were questioning me," he said. "I wish you would tell me +what is on your mind?" + +"I do not suppose it could make the least difference," she answered, +passionately. "Yes, I will tell you, what you must have been blind not +to notice long ago. Have you not noticed how every one watches us with +a peculiar smile on their lips as we come among them; and how their +voices sink to a whisper lest we should overhear what they say? What +is commented upon by my very guests, and the people all about us? +Listen, then, it is this: Rex Lyon does not love the woman he has +asked to be his wife. The frosts of Iceland could not be colder than +his manner toward her. They say, too, that I have given you the truest +and deepest love of my heart, and have received nothing in return. +Tell me that it is all false, my darling. You do care for me, do you +not, Rex? Tell me," she implored. + +"Good heavens!" cried Rex, almost speechless in consternation; "do +they dare say such things? I never thought my conduct could give rise +to one reproach, one unkind thought." + +"Tell me you do care for me, Rex," she cried. "I have been almost mad +with doubt." + +There was something in the lovely face, in the tender, pleading eyes, +and quivering, scarlet mouth, that looked as if it were made for +kisses--that Rex would have had to have been something more than +mortal man to have resisted her pleading with sighs and tears for his +love, and refuse it, especially as she had every reason to expect it, +as he had asked her to be his wife. There was such a look of +unutterable love on her face it fairly bewildered him. The passion in +her voice startled him. What was he to do with this impetuous girl? +Rex looked as if he felt exceedingly uncomfortable. + +He took her in his arms and kissed her mechanically; he knew that was +what she wanted and what she expected him to do. + +"This must be my answer, dear," he said, holding her in a close +embrace. + +In that brief instant she had torn the daisies from the lapel of his +coat with her white, jeweled fingers, tossed them to the earth, and +stamped her dainty feet upon them, wishing in the depths of her soul +she could crush out all remembrance from his heart of the young girl +for whose memory this handsome lover of hers wore these wild blossoms +on his breast. + +As Rex looked down into her face he missed them, and quickly unclasped +his arms from around her with a little cry. + +Stooping down he instantly recovered his crushed treasures and lifted +them reverently in his hand with a sigh. + +"I can not say that I admire your taste, Rex," she said, with a short, +hard laugh, that somehow grated harshly on her lover's ears. "The +conservatories are blooming with rare and odorous flowers, yet you +choose these obnoxious plants; they are no more or less than a species +of weeds. Never wear them again, Rex--I despise them--throw them away, +and I will gather you a rare bouquet of white hyacinths and starry +jasmine and golden-rod bells." + +The intense quiver in her voice pained him, and he saw her face wore +the pallor of death, and her eyes were gleaming like restless fire. + +"I will not wear them certainly if you dislike them, Pluma," he said, +gravely, "but I do not care to replace them by any other; daisies are +the sweetest flowers on earth for me." + +He did not fasten them on his coat again, but transferred them to his +breast-pocket. She bit her scarlet lips in impotent rage. + +In the very moment of her supreme triumph and happiness he had +unclasped his arms from about her to pick up the daisies she had +crushed with her tiny heel--those daisies which reminded him of that +other love that still reigned in his heart a barrier between them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +"I do think it is a perfect shame those horrid Glenn girls are to be +invited up here to Rex's wedding," cried little Birdie Lyon, hobbling +into the room where Mrs. Corliss sat, busily engaged in hemming some +new table-linen, and throwing herself down on a low hassock at her +feet, and laying down her crutch beside her--"it is perfectly awful." + +"Why," said Mrs. Corliss, smoothing the nut-brown curls back from the +child's flushed face, "I should think you would be very pleased. They +were your neighbors when you were down in Florida, were they not?" + +"Yes," replied the little girl, frowning, "but I don't like them one +bit. Bess and Gertie--that's the two eldest ones, make me think of +those stiff pictures in the gay trailing dresses in the magazines. Eve +is nice, but she's a Tom-boy." + +"A wh--at!" cried Mrs. Corliss. + +"She's a Tom-boy, mamma always said; she romps, and has no manners." + +"They will be your neighbors when you go South again--so I suppose +your brother thought of that when he invited them." + +"He never dreamed of it," cried Birdie; "it was Miss Pluma's doings." + +"Hush, child, don't talk so loud," entreated the old housekeeper; "she +might hear you." + +"I don't care," cried Birdie. "I don't like her anyhow, and she knows +it. When Rex is around she is as sweet as honey to me, and calls me +'pretty little dear,' but when Rex isn't around she scarcely notices +me, and I _hate_ her--yes, I do." + +Birdie clinched her little hands together venomously, crying out the +words in a shrill scream. + +"Birdie," cried Mrs. Corliss, "you _must not_ say such hard, cruel +things. I have heard you say, over and over again, you liked Mr. +Hurlhurst, and you must remember Pluma is his daughter, and she is to +be your brother's wife. You must learn to speak and think kindly of +her." + +"I never shall like her," cried Birdie, defiantly, "and I am sure Mr. +Hurlhurst don't." + +"Birdie!" ejaculated the good lady in a fright, dropping her scissors +and spools in consternation; "let me warn you not to talk so again; +if Miss Pluma was to once hear you, you would have a sorry enough time +of it all your after life. What put it into your head Mr. Hurlhurst +did not like his own daughter?" + +"Oh, lots of things," answered Birdie. "When I tell him how pretty +every one says she is, he groans, and says strange things about fatal +beauty, which marred all his young life, and ever so many things I +can't understand, and his face grows so hard and so stern I am almost +afraid of him." + +"He is thinking of Pluma's mother," thought Mrs. Corliss--but she made +no answer. + +"He likes to talk to me," pursued the child, rolling the empty spools +to and fro with her crutch, "for he pities me because I am lame." + +"Bless your dear little heart," said Mrs. Corliss, softly stroking the +little girl's curls; "it is seldom poor old master takes to any one as +he has to you." + +"Do I look anything like the little child that died?" questioned +Birdie. + +A low, gasping cry broke from Mrs. Corliss's lips, and her face grew +ashen white. She tried to speak, but the words died away in her +throat. + +"He talks to me a great deal about her," continued Birdie, "and he +weeps such bitter tears, and has such strange dreams about her. Why, +only last night he dreamed a beautiful, golden-haired young girl came +to him, holding out her arms, and crying softly: 'Look at me, father; +I am your child. I was never laid to rest beneath the violets, in my +young mother's tomb. Father, I am in sore distress--come to me, +father, or I shall die!' Of course it was only a dream, but it makes +poor Mr. Hurlhurst cry so; and what do you think he said?" + +The child did not notice the terrible agony on the old housekeeper's +face, or that no answer was vouchsafed her. + +"'My dreams haunt me night and day,' he cried. 'To still this wild, +fierce throbbing of my heart I must have that grave opened, and gaze +once more upon all that remains of my loved and long-lost bride, sweet +Evalia and her little child.' He was--" + +Birdie never finished her sentence. + +A terrible cry broke from the housekeeper's livid lips. + +"My God!" she cried, hoarsely, "after nearly seventeen years the sin +of my silence is about to find me out at last." + +"What is the matter, Mrs. Corliss? Are you ill?" cried the startled +child. + +A low, despairing sob answered her, as Mrs. Corliss arose from her +seat, took a step or two forward, then fell headlong to the floor in a +deep and death-like swoon. + +Almost any other child would have been terrified, and alarmed the +household. + +Birdie was not like other children. She saw a pitcher of ice-water on +an adjacent table, which she immediately proceeded to sprinkle on the +still, white, wrinkled face; but all her efforts failed to bring the +fleeting breath back to the cold, pallid lips. + +At last the child became fairly frightened. + +"I must go and find Rex or Mr. Hurlhurst," she cried, grasping her +crutch, and limping hurriedly out of the room. + +The door leading to Basil Hurlhurst's apartments stood open--the +master of Whitestone Hall sat in his easy-chair, in morning-gown and +slippers, deeply immersed in the columns of his account-books. + +"Oh, Mr. Hurlhurst," cried Birdie, her little, white, scared face +peering in at the door, "won't you please come quick? Mrs. Corliss, +the housekeeper, has fainted ever so long ago, and I can't bring her +to!" + +Basil Hurlhurst hurriedly arose and followed the now thoroughly +frightened child quickly to the room where the old housekeeper lay, +her hands pressed close to her heart, the look of frozen horror +deepening on her face. + +Quickly summoning the servants, they raised her from the floor. It was +something more than a mere fainting fit. The poor old lady had fallen +face downward on the floor, and upon the sharp point of the scissors +she had been using, which had entered her body in close proximity to +her heart. The wound was certainly a dangerous one. The surgeon, who +was quickly summoned, shook his head dubiously. + +"The wound is of the most serious nature," he said. "She can not +possibly recover." + +"I regret this sad affair more than I can find words to express," said +Basil Hurlhurst, gravely. "Mrs. Corliss's whole life almost has been +spent at Whitestone Hall. You tell me, doctor, there is no hope. I can +scarcely realize it." + +Every care and attention was shown her; but it was long hours before +Mrs. Corliss showed signs of returning consciousness, and with her +first breath she begged that Basil Hurlhurst might be sent for at +once. + +He could not understand why she shrunk from him, refusing his +proffered hand. + +"Tell them all to leave the room," she whispered. "No one must know +what I have to say to you." + +Wondering a little what she had to say to him, he humored her wishes, +sending them all from the room. + +"Now, Mrs. Corliss," he said, kindly drawing his chair up close by the +bedside, "what is it? You can speak out without reserve; we are all +alone." + +"Is it true that I can not live?" she asked, eagerly scanning his +face. "Tell me truthfully, master, is the wound a fatal one?" + +"Yes," he said, sympathetically, "I--I--am afraid it is." + +He saw she was making a violent effort to control her emotions. "Do +not speak," he said, gently; "it distresses you. You need perfect rest +and quiet." + +"I shall never rest again until I make atonement for my sin," she +cried, feebly. "Oh, master, you have ever been good and kind to me, +but I have sinned against you beyond all hope of pardon. When you hear +what I have to say you will curse me. Oh, how can I tell it! Yet I can +not sleep in my grave with this burden on my soul." + +He certainly thought she was delirious, this poor, patient, toil-worn +soul, speaking so incoherently of sin; she, so tender-hearted--she +could not even have hurt a sparrow. + +"I can promise you my full pardon, Mrs. Corliss," he said, soothingly; +"no matter on what grounds the grievance may be." + +For a moment she looked at him incredulously. + +"You do not know what you say. You do not understand," she muttered, +fixing her fast-dimming eyes strangely upon him. + +"Do not give yourself any uneasiness upon that score, Mrs. Corliss," +he said, gently; "try to think of something else. Is there anything +you would like to have done for you?" + +"Yes," she replied, in a voice so hoarse and changed he could scarcely +recognize it was her who had spoken; "when I tell you all, promise me +you will not curse me; for I have sinned against you so bitterly that +you will cry out to Heaven asking why I did not die long years ago, +that the terrible secret I have kept so long might have been wrung +from my lips." + +"Surely her ravings were taking a strange freak," he thought to +himself; "yet he would be patient with her and humor her strange +fancy." + +The quiet, gentle expression did not leave his face, and she took +courage. + +"Master," she said, clasping her hands nervously together, "would it +pain you to speak of the sweet, golden-haired young girl-bride who +died on that terrible stormy night nearly seventeen years ago?" + +She saw his care-worn face grow white, and the lines of pain deepen +around his mouth. + +"That is the most painful of all subjects to me," he said, slowly. +"You know how I have suffered since that terrible night," he said +shudderingly. "The double loss of my sweet young wife and her little +babe has nearly driven me mad. I am a changed man, the weight of the +cross I have had to bear has crushed me. I live on, but my heart is +buried in the grave of my sweet, golden-haired Evalia and her little +child. I repeat, it is a painful subject, still I will listen to what +you have to say. I believe I owe my life to your careful nursing, when +I was stricken with the brain fever that awful time." + +"It would have been better if I had let you die then, rather than live +to inflict the blow which my words will give you. Oh, master!" she +implored, "I did not know then what I did was a sin. I feared to tell +you lest the shock might cost you your life. As time wore on, I grew +so deadly frightened I dared not undo the mischief my silence had +wrought. Remember, master, when you looked upon me in your bitterest, +fiercest moments of agony, what I did was for _your_ sake; to save +your bleeding heart one more pang. I have been a good and faithful +woman all my life, faithful to your interests." + +"You have indeed," he responded, greatly puzzled as to what she could +possibly mean. + +She tried to raise herself on her elbows, but her strength failed her, +and she sunk back exhausted on the pillow. + +"Listen, Basil Hurlhurst," she said, fixing her strangely bright eyes +upon his noble, care-worn face; "this is the secret I have carried in +this bosom for nearly seventeen years: 'Your golden-haired young wife +died on that terrible stormy night you brought her to Whitestone +Hall;' but listen, Basil, '_the child did not!_' It was stolen from +our midst on the night the fair young mother died." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +"My God!" cried Basil Hurlhurst, starting to his feet, pale as death, +his eyes fairly burning, and the veins standing out on his forehead +like cords, "you do not know what you say, woman! My little +child--Evalia's child and mine--not dead, but stolen on the night its +mother died! My God! it can not be; surely you are mad!" he shrieked. + +"It is true, master," she moaned, "true as Heaven." + +"You knew my child, for whom I grieved for seventeen long years, was +stolen--not dead--and dared to keep the knowledge from me?" he cried, +passionately, beside himself with rage, agony and fear. "Tell me +quickly, then, where I shall find my child!" he cried, breathlessly. + +"I do not know, master," she moaned. + +For a few moments Basil Hurlhurst strode up and down the room like a +man bereft of reason. + +"You will not curse me," wailed the tremulous voice from the bed; "I +have your promise." + +"I can not understand how Heaven could let your lips remain silenced +all these long, agonizing years, if your story be true. Why, yourself +told me my wife and child had both died on that never-to-be-forgotten +night, and were buried in one grave. How could you dare steep your +lips with a lie so foul and black? Heaven could have struck you dead +while the false words were yet warm on your lips!" + +"I dared not tell you, master," moaned the feeble voice, "lest the +shock would kill you; then, after you recovered, I grew afraid of the +secret I had dared to keep, and dared not tell you." + +"And yet you knew that somewhere in this cruel world my little child +was living--my tender, little fair-haired child--while I, her father, +was wearing my life out with the grief of that terrible double loss. +Oh, woman, woman, may God forgive you, for I never can, if your words +be true." + +"I feared such anger as this; that is why I dared not tell you," she +whispered, faintly. "I appeal to your respect for me in the past to +hear me, to your promise of forgiveness to shield me, to your love for +the little child to listen calmly while I have strength to speak." + +He saw she was right. His head seemed on fire, and his heart seemed +bursting with the acute intensity of his great excitement. + +He must listen while she had strength to tell him of his child. + +"Go on--go on!" he cried, hoarsely, burying his face in the +bed-clothes; "tell me of my child!" + +"You remember the terrible storm, master, how the tree moaned, and +without against the western wing--where your beautiful young wife lay +dead, with the pretty, smiling, blue-eyed babe upon her breast?" + +"Yes, yes--go on--you are driving me mad!" he groaned. + +"You remember how you fell down senseless by her bedside when we told +you the terrible news--the young child-bride was dead?" + +She knew, by the quivering of his form, he heard her. + +"As they carried you from the room, master, I thought I saw a woman's +form gliding stealthily on before, through the dark corridors. A blaze +of lightning illumined the hall for one brief instant, and I can swear +I saw a woman's face--a white, mocking, gloriously beautiful +face--strangely like the face of your first wife, master, Pluma's +mother. I knew it could not be her, for she was lying beneath the +sea-waves. It was not a good omen, and I felt sorely afraid and +greatly troubled. When I returned to the room from which they had +carried you--there lay your fair young wife with a smile on her +lips--but the tiny babe that had slumbered on her breast was gone." + +"Oh, God! if you had only told me this years ago," cried the unhappy +father. "Have you any idea who could have taken the child? It could +not have been for gain, or I should have heard of it long ago. I did +not know I had an enemy in the wide world. You say you saw a woman's +face?" he asked, thoughtfully. + +"It was the ghost of your first wife," asserted the old housekeeper, +astutely. "I never saw her face but once; but there was something +about it one could not easily forget." + +Basil Hurlhurst was not a superstitious man, yet he felt a strange, +unaccountable dread stealing over him at the bare mention of such a +thing. It was more than he could endure to hear the name of the wife +he had loved, and the wife who slept beneath the wild sea-waves, +coupled in one breath--the fair young wife he had idolized, and the +dark, sparkling face of the wife who had brought upon him such +wretched folly in his youth! + +"Have you not some clew to give me?" he cried out in agony--"some way +by which I can trace her and learn her fate?" + +She shook her head. + +"This is unbearable!" he cried, pacing up and down the room like one +who had received an unexpected death-blow. "I am bewildered! Merciful +Heaven! which way shall I turn? This accounts for my restlessness all +these years, when I thought of my child--my restless longing and +fanciful dreams! I thought her quietly sleeping on Evalia's breast. +God only knows what my tender little darling has suffered, or in what +part of the world she lives, or if she lives at all!" + +It had been just one hour since Basil Hurlhurst had entered that room, +a placid-faced, gray-haired man. When he left it his hair was white as +snow from the terrible ordeal through which he had just passed. + +He scarcely dared hope that he should yet find her--where or how he +should find her, if ever. + +In the corridor he passed groups of maidens, but he neither saw nor +heard them. He was thinking of the child that had been stolen from him +in her infancy--the sweet little babe with the large blue eyes and +shining rings of golden hair. + +He saw Pluma and Rex greeting some new arrivals out on the flower-bordered +terrace, but he did not stop until he had reached his own apartments. + +He did not send for Pluma, to divulge the wonderful discovery he had +made. There was little sympathy or confidence between the father and +daughter. + +"I can never sleep again until I have some clew to my child!" he +cried, frantically wringing his hands. + +Hastily he touched the bell-rope. + +"Mason," he said to the servant who answered the summons, "pack my +valise at once. I am going to take the first train to Baltimore. You +have no time to lose." + +He did not hear the man's ejaculation of surprise as his eyes fell on +the face of the master who stood before him with hair white as +snow--so utterly changed in one short hour. + +"You couldn't possibly make the next train, sir; it leaves in a few +moments." + +"I tell you you _must_ make it!" cried Basil Hurlhurst. "Go and do as +I bid you at once! Don't stand there staring at me; you are losing +golden moments. Fly at once, I tell you!" + +Poor old Mason was literally astounded. What had come over his kind, +courteous master? + +"I have nothing that could aid them in the search," he said to +himself, pacing restlessly up and down the room. "Ah! stay!--there is +Evalia's portrait! The little one must look like her mother if she is +living yet!" + +He went to his writing-desk and drew from a private drawer a little +package tied with a faded ribbon, which he carefully untied with +trembling fingers. + +It was a portrait on ivory of a beautiful, girlish, dimpled face, with +shy, upraised blue eyes, a smiling rosebud mouth, soft pink cheeks, +and a wealth of rippling, sunny-golden hair. + +"She must look like this," he whispered. "God grant that I may find +her!" + +"Mr. Rex Lyon says, please may he see you a few moments, sir," said +Mason, popping his black head in at the door. + +"No; I do not wish to see any one, and I will not see any one. Have +you that satchel packed, I say?" + +"Yes, sir; it will be ready directly, sir," said the man, obediently. + +"Don't come to me with any more messages--lock everybody out. Do you +hear me, Mason? I _will_ be obeyed!" + +"Yes, sir, I hear. No one shall disturb you." + +Again Basil Hurlhurst turned to the portrait, paying little attention +to what was transpiring around him. "I shall put it at once in the +hands of the cleverest detectives," he mused; "surely they will be +able to find some trace of my lost darling." + +Seventeen years! Ah, what might have happened her in that time? The +master of Whitestone Hall always kept a file of the Baltimore papers; +he rapidly ran his eye down the different columns. + +"Ah, here is what I want," he exclaimed, stopping short. "Messrs. +Tudor, Peck & Co., Experienced Detectives, ---- Street, Baltimore. +They are noted for their skill. I will give the case into their hands. +If they restore my darling child alive and well into my hands I will +make them wealthy men--if she is dead, the blow will surely kill me." + +He heard voices debating in the corridor without. + +"Did you tell him I wished particularly to see him?" asked Rex, rather +discomfited at the refusal. + +"Yes, sir," said Mason, dubiously. + +"Miss Pluma, his daughter, wishes me to speak with him on a very +important matter. I am surprised that he so persistently refuses to +see me," said Rex, proudly, wondering if Pluma's father had heard that +gossip--among the guests--that he did not love his daughter. "I do not +know that I have offended the old gentleman in any way," he told +himself. "If it comes to that," he thought, "I can do no more than +confess the truth to him--the whole truth about poor little Daisy--no +matter what the consequences may be." + +Fate was playing at cross-purposes with handsome Rex, but no subtle +warning came to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +The preparations for the wedding went steadily on. It was to be a +magnificent affair. Inside and outside of Whitestone Hall fairly +glowed with brilliancy and bloom. + +Rex's deportment toward his promised bride was exemplary; he did his +best to show her every possible attention and kindness in lieu of the +love which should have been hers. + +There seemed to be no cloud in Pluma Hurlhurst's heaven. + +She had no warning of the relentless storm-cloud that was gathering +above her head and was so soon to burst upon her in all its fury. + +She walked among her guests with a joyous, happy smile and the air of +a queen. Why should she not? On the morrow she would gain the prize +she coveted most on earth--she would be Rex's wife. + +Her father had gone unexpectedly to Baltimore, and the good old +housekeeper had been laid to rest, but in the excitement and bustle +attending the great coming event these two incidents created little +comment. + +Mirth and gayety reigned supreme, and the grim old halls resounded +with laughter and song and gay young voices from morning until night. + +Pluma, the spoiled, petted, willful heiress, was fond of excitement +and gay throngs. + +"Our marriage must be an event worthy of remembrance, Rex," she said, +as they walked together through the grounds the morning before the +wedding. "We must have something new and novel. I am tired of +brilliant parlors and gas-light. I propose we shall have a beautiful +platform built, covered with moss and roses, beneath the blossoming +trees, with the birds singing in their boughs, upon which we shall be +united. What do you think of my idea--is it not a pretty one?" + +"Your ideas are always poetical and fanciful," said Rex, glancing down +into the beautiful brilliant face beside him. "My thoughts are so dull +and prosy compared with yours, are you not afraid you will have a very +monotonous life-companion?" + +"I am going to try my best to win you from that cold reserve. There +must not be one shadow between us; do you know, Rex, I have been +thinking, if anything should ever happen to take your love from me I +should surely die. I--I am jealous of your very thoughts. I know I +ought not to admit it, but I can not help it." + +Rex flushed nervously; it was really embarrassing to him, the tender +way in which she looked up to him--her black eyelids coyly drooping +over her dark, slumbrous eyes, inviting a caress. He was certainly +wooed against his will, but there was no help for it; he was forced to +take up his part and act it out gracefully. + +"You need not be jealous of my thoughts, Pluma," he replied, "for they +were all of you." + +"I wonder if they were pleasant thoughts?" she asked, toying with the +crimson flower-bells she holds in her white hands. "I have heard you +sigh so much of late. Are you quite happy, Rex?" she inquired, +hesitatingly. + +The abruptness of the question staggered him: he recovered his +composure instantly, however. + +"How can you ask me such a question, Pluma?" he asked, evasively; "any +man ought to be proud of winning so peerless a treasure as you are. I +shall be envied by scores of disappointed lovers, who have worshiped +at your shrine. I am not as demonstrative as some might be under +similar circumstances, but my appreciation is none the less keen." + +She noticed he carefully avoided the word--love. + +In after years Rex liked to remember that, yielding to a kindly +impulse, he bent down and kissed her forehead. + +It was the first time he had caressed her voluntarily; it was not love +which prompted the action--only kindness. + +"Perhaps you will love me some day with your whole heart, Rex?" she +asked. + +"You seem quite sure that I do not do that now?" he remarked. + +"Yes," she said, clasping his arm more closely, "I often fear you do +not, but as time passes you will give me all your affection. Love must +win love." + +Other young girls could not have made such an open declaration without +rosy blushes suffusing their cheeks; they would have been frightened +at their free-spoken words, even though the morrow _was_ their +wedding-day. + +She stood before him in her tall, slim loveliness, as fair a picture +as any man's eyes could rest on. She wore a most becoming dress, and a +spring blossom was in her hair. Almost any other man's heart would +have warmed toward her as she raised her dark eyes to his and the +white fingers trembled on his arm. + +Rex was young, impulsive, and mortal; tender words from such lovely +lips would have intoxicated any man. Yet from that faithful heart of +his the words did not take one thought that belonged to Daisy; he did +his utmost to forget that sunny, golden memory. + +To Pluma, handsome, courtly Rex was an enigma. In her own mind she +liked him all the better because he had not fallen down and worshiped +her at once. Most men did that. + +For several moments they walked along in utter silence--until they had +reached the brink of the dark pool, which lay quite at the further end +of the inclosure. + +Pluma gave a little shuddering scream: + +"I did not mean to bring you here," she cried. "I always avoid this +path; the waters of the pool have always had a great dread for me." + +"It should be filled up," said Rex, "or fenced around; it is certainly +a dangerous locality." + +"It can not be filled up," she returned, laughingly; "it is said to be +bottomless. I do not like to think of it; come away, Rex." + +The magnificent bridal costume, ordered expressly from Paris, had +arrived--perfect even to the last detail. The bride-maids' costumes +were all ready; and to everything in and about the Hall the last +finishing touches had been given. + +All the young girls hovered constantly around Pluma, in girl-fashion +admiring the costume, the veil, the wreath, and above all the +radiantly beautiful girl who was to wear them. Even the Glenn girls +and Grace Alden were forced to admit the willful young heiress would +make the most peerless bride they had ever beheld. + +Little Birdie alone held aloof, much to Rex's amusement and Pluma's +intense mortification. + +"Little children often take such strange freaks," she would say to +Rex, sweetly. "I really believe your little sister intends never to +like me; I can not win one smile from her." + +"She is not like other children," he replied, with a strange twinkle +in his eye. "She forms likes and dislikes to people from simply +hearing their name. Of course I agree with you it is not right to do +so, but Birdie has been humored more or less all her life. I think she +will grow to love you in time." + +Pluma's lips quivered like the lips of a grieving child. + +"I shall try so hard to make her love me, because she is your sister, +Rex." + +He clasped the little jeweled hands that lay so confidingly within his +own still closer, saying he knew she could not help but succeed. + +The whole country-side was ringing with the coming marriage. No one +could be more popular than handsome Rex Lyon, no one admired more than +the young heiress of Whitestone Hall. The county papers were in +ecstasies; they discussed the magnificent preparations at the Hall, +the number of bride-maids, the superb wedding-presents, the +arrangements for the marriage, and the ball to be given in the +evening. + +The minister from Baltimore who was to perform the ceremony was +expected to arrive that day. That all preparations might be completed +for the coming morrow, Rex had gone down to meet the train, and Pluma +strolled into the conservatory, to be alone for a few moments with +her own happy thoughts. + +Out on the green lawns happy maidens were tripping here and there, +their gay laughter floating up to her where she stood. + +Every one seemed to be making the most of the happy occasion. +Lawn-tennis parties here and croquet-parties there, and lovers +strolling under the blossoming trees or reclining on the rustic +benches--it was indeed a happy scene. + +Pluma leaned her dark head against the fragrant roses. The breeze, the +perfume of the flowers, all told one story to the impassioned +girl--the story of her triumph and her mad, reckless love. + +She gathered a spray of the fairest flowers, and fastened them in the +bodice of her dress. + +"To-morrow I shall have won the one great prize I covet," she +murmured, half aloud. "After to-morrow I can defy Lester Stanwick to +bring one charge against me. I shall be Rex's wife--it will avail him +nothing." + +"Speaking of angels, you often hear 'the rustle of their wings.' I +believe there is an old adage of that sort, or something similar," +said a deep voice beside her, and turning around with a low cry she +saw Lester Stanwick himself standing before her. + +For one moment her lips opened as though to utter a piercing cry, but +even the very breath seemed to die upon them, they were so fixed and +still. + +The flowers she held in her hand fell into the fountain against which +she leaned, but she did not heed them. + +Like one fascinated, her eyes met the gaze of the bold, flashing dark +ones bent so steadily upon her. + +"You thought you would escape me," he said. "How foolish and blind you +are, my clever plotter. Did you think I did not see through your +clever maneuverings? There shall be a wedding to-morrow, but you shall +marry me, instead of handsome, debonair Rex. You can not fly from your +fate." + +She set her lips firmly together. She had made a valiant struggle. She +would defy him to the bitter end. She was no coward, this beautiful, +imperious girl. She would die hard. Alas! she had been too sanguine, +hoping Lester Stanwick would not return before the ceremony was +performed. + +The last hope died out of that proud, passionate heart--as well hope +to divert a tiger from its helpless prey as expect Lester Stanwick to +relinquish any plans he had once formed. + +"I have fought my fight," she said to herself, "and have failed on the +very threshold of victory, still, I know how to bear defeat. What do +you propose to do?" she said, huskily. "If there is any way I can buy +your silence, name your price, keeping back the truth will avail me +little now. I love Rex, and no power on earth shall prevent me from +becoming his wife." + +Lester Stanwick smiled superciliously--drawing from his pocket a +package of letters. + +"Money could not purchase these charming _billets-doux_ from me," he +said. "This will be charming reading matter for the Honorable Rex +Lyon, and the general public to discuss." + +She raised her flashing eyes unflinchingly to his face, but no word +issued from her white lips. + +"A splendid morsel for the gossips to whisper over. The very refined +and exclusive heiress of Whitestone Hall connives to remove an +innocent rival from her path, by providing money for her to be sent +off secretly to boarding-school, from which she is to be abducted and +confined in a mad-house. Your numerous letters give full instructions; +it would be useless to deny these accusations. I hold proof +positive." + +"That would not screen you," she said, scornfully. + +"I did not carry out your plans. No matter what the intentions were, +the points in the case are what actually happened. I can swear I +refused to comply with your nefarious wishes, even though you promised +me your hand and fortune if I succeeded," he answered, mockingly. + +"Will not money purchase your silence?" she said, with a deep-drawn +breath. "I do not plead with you for mercy or compassion," she said, +haughtily. + +Lester Stanwick laughed a mocking laugh. + +"Do not mistake me, Miss Pluma," he said, making no attempt at +love-making; "I prefer to wrest you from Rex Lyon. I have contemplated +with intense satisfaction the blow to his pride. It will be a glorious +revenge, also giving me a charming bride, and last, but not least, the +possession at some future day of Whitestone Hall and the Hurlhurst +Plantations. A pleasing picture, is it not, my dear?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Pluma Hurlhurst never quailed beneath the cold, mocking glance bent +upon her. + +There was no hope for her; disgrace and ruin stared her in the face; +she would defy even Fate itself to the bitter end with a heroism +worthy of a better cause. In that hour and that mood she was capable +of anything. + +She leaned against a tall palm-tree, looking at him with a strange +expression on her face, as she made answer, slowly: + +"You may depend upon it, I shall never marry you, Lester Stanwick. If +I do not marry Rex I shall go unmarried to the grave. Ah, no!" she +cried desperately; "Heaven will have more mercy, more pity than to +take him from me." + +"What mercy or pity did you feel in thrusting poor little Daisy Brooks +from his path?" asked Stanwick, sarcastically. "Your love has led you +through dangerous paths. I should call it certainly a most perilous +love." + +She recoiled from him with a low cry, those words again still ringing +in her ears, "A perilous love." + +She laughed with a laugh that made even Stanwick's blood run cold--a +horrible laugh. + +"I do not grieve that she is dead," she said. "You ought to understand +by this time I shall allow nothing to come between Rex and me." + +"You forget the fine notions of honor your handsome lover entertains; +it may not have occurred to you that he might object at the eleventh +hour." + +"He will not," she cried, fiercely, her bosom rising and falling +convulsively under its covering of filmy lace and the diamond brooch +which clasped it. "You do not know the indomitable will of a desperate +woman," she gasped. "I will see him myself and confess all to him, if +you attempt to reveal the contents of those letters. He will marry me +and take me abroad at once. If I have Rex's love, what matters it what +the whole world knows or says?" + +She spoke rapidly, vehemently, with flushed face and glowing eyes; and +even in her terrible anger Stanwick could not help but notice how +gloriously beautiful she was in her tragic emotion. + +"I have asked you to choose between us," he said, calmly, "and you +have chosen Rex regardless of all the promises of the past. The +consequences rest upon your own head." + +"So be it," she answered, haughtily. + +With a low bow Stanwick turned and left her. + +"_Au revoir_, my dear Pluma," he said, turning again toward her on the +threshold. "Not farewell--I shall not give up hope of winning the +heiress of Whitestone Hall." + +For several moments she stood quite still among the dark-green shrubs, +and no sound told of the deadly strife and despair. Would he see Rex +and divulge the crime she had planned? Ah! who would believe she, the +proud, petted heiress had plotted so cruelly against the life of an +innocent young girl because she found favor in the eyes of the lover +she had sworn to win? Ah! who could believe she had planned to confine +that sweet young life within the walls of a mad-house until death +should release her? + +What if the plan had failed? The intention still remained the same. +She was thankful, after all, the young girl was dead. + +"I could never endure the thought of Rex's intense anger if he once +imagined the truth; he would never forgive duplicity," she cried, +wildly. + +The proud, beautiful girl, radiant with love and happiness a short +time since, with a great cry flung herself down among the ferns, the +sunlight gleaming on the jewels, the sumptuous morning dress, the +crushed roses, and the white, despairing face. + +Any one who saw Pluma Hurlhurst when she entered the drawing-room +among her merry-hearted guests, would have said that she had never +shed a tear or known a sigh. Could that be the same creature upon +whose prostrate figure and raining tears the sunshine had so lately +fallen? No one could have told that the brightness, the smiles, and +the gay words were all forced. No one could have guessed that beneath +the brilliant manner there was a torrent of dark, angry passions and +an agony of fear. + +It was pitiful to see how her eyes wandered toward the door. Hour +after hour passed, and still Rex had not returned. + +The hum of girlish voices around her almost made her brain reel. Grace +Alden and Miss Raynor were singing a duet at the piano. The song they +were singing fell like a death-knell upon her ears; it was "'He Cometh +Not,' She Said." + +Eve Glenn, with Birdie upon her lap, sat on an adjoining sofa flirting +desperately with the two or three devoted beaus; every one was +discussing the prospect of the coming morrow. + +Her father had returned from Baltimore some time since. She was too +much engrossed with her thoughts of Rex to notice the great change in +him--the strange light in his eyes, or the wistful, expectant +expression of his face, as he kissed her more fondly than he had ever +done in his life before. + +She gave appropriate answers to her guests grouped around her, but +their voices seemed afar off. Her heart and her thoughts were with +Rex. Why had he not returned? What was detaining him? Suppose anything +should happen--it would kill her now--yet nothing could go wrong on +the eve of her wedding-day. She would not believe it. Stanwick would +not dare go to Rex with such a story--he would write it--and all +those things took time. With care and caution and constant watching +she would prevent Rex from receiving any communications whatever until +after the ceremony; then she could breathe freely, for the battle so +bravely fought would be won. + +"If to-morrow is as bright as to-day, Pluma will have a glorious +wedding-day," said Bessie Glenn, smiling up into the face of a +handsome young fellow who was fastening a rosebud she had just given +him in the lapel of his coat with one hand, and with the other tightly +clasping the white fingers that had held the rose. + +He did not notice that Pluma stood in the curtained recesses of an +adjoining window as he answered, carelessly enough: + +"Of course, I hope it will be a fine, sunshiny day, but the +indications of the weather don't look exactly that way, if I am any +judge." + +"Why, you don't think it is going to rain, do you? Why, it will spoil +the rose-bower she is to be married in and all the beautiful +decoration. Oh, please don't predict anything so awfully horrible; you +make me feel nervous; besides, you know what everybody says about +weddings on which the rain falls." + +"Would you be afraid to experiment on the idea?" asked the impulsive +young fellow, who always acted on the spur of the moment. "If +to-morrow were a rainy day, and I should say to you, 'Bess, will you +marry me to-day or never?' what would your answer be?" + +"I should say, just now, I do not like 'ifs and ands.' Supposing a +case, and standing face to face with it, are two different things. I +like people who say what they mean, and mean what they say." + +Pluma saw the dazzling light flame into the bashful young lover's eyes +as he bent his head lower over the blushing girl who had shown him the +right way to capture a hesitating heart. + +"_That_ is love," sighed Pluma. "Ah, if Rex would only look at me like +that I would think this earth a heaven." She looked up at the bright, +dazzling clouds overhead; then she remembered the words she had +heard--"It looked like rain on the morrow." + +Could those white, fleecy clouds darken on the morrow that was to give +her the only treasure she had ever coveted in her life? + +She was not superstitious. Even if it did rain, surely a few +rain-drops could not make or mar the happiness of a lifetime. She +would not believe it. + +"Courage until to-morrow," she said, "and my triumph will be complete. +I will have won Rex." The little ormolu clock on the mantel chimed the +hour of five. "Heavens!" she cried to herself, "Rex has been gone over +two hours. I feel my heart must be bursting." + +No one noticed Pluma's anxiety. One moment hushed and laughing, the +queen of mirth and revelry, then pale and silent, with shadowed eyes, +furtively glancing down the broad, pebbled path that led to the +entrance gate. + +Yet, despite her bravery, Pluma's face and lips turned white when she +heard the confusion of her lover's arrival. + +Perhaps Pluma had never suffered more suspense in all her life than +was crowded into those few moments. + +Had he seen Lester Stanwick? Had he come to denounce her for her +treachery, in his proud, clear voice, and declare the marriage broken +off? + +She dared not step forward to greet him, lest the piercing glance of +his eyes would cause her to fall fainting at his feet. + +"A guilty conscience needs no accuser." Most truly the words were +exemplified in her case. Yet not one pang of remorse swept across her +proud heart when she thought of the young girl whose life she had so +skillfully blighted. + +What was the love of Daisy Brooks, an unsophisticated child of nature, +only the overseer's niece, compared to her own mighty, absorbing +passion? + +The proud, haughty heiress could not understand how Rex, polished, +courteous and refined, could have stooped to such a reckless folly. He +would thank her in years to come for sparing him from such a fate. +These were the thoughts she sought to console herself with. + +She stood near the door when he entered, but he did not see her; a +death-like pallor swept over her face, her dark eyes had a wild, +perplexing look. + +She was waiting in terrible suspense for Rex to call upon her name; +ask where she was, or speak some word in which she could read her +sentence of happiness or despair in the tone of his voice. + +She could not even catch the expression of his face; it was turned +from her. She watched him so eagerly she hardly dared draw her +breath. + +Rex walked quickly through the room, stopping to chat with this one or +that one a moment; still, his face was not turned for a single instant +toward the spot where she stood. + +Was he looking for her? She could not tell. Presently he walked toward +the conservatory, and a moment later Eve Glenn came tripping toward +her. + +"Oh, here you are!" she cried, flinging her arms about her in regular +school-girl _abandon_, and kissing the cold, proud mouth, that deigned +no answering caress. "Rex has been looking for you everywhere, and at +last commissioned me to find you and say he wants to speak to you. He +is out on the terrace." + +How she longed to ask if Rex's face was smiling or stern, but she +dared not. + +"Where did you say Rex was, Miss Glenn?" + +"I said he was out on the terrace; but don't call me Miss Glenn, for +pity's sake--it sounds so freezingly cold. Won't you please call me +Eve," cried the impetuous girl--"simply plain Eve? That has a more +friendly sound, you know." + +Another girl less proud than the haughty heiress would have kissed +Eve's pretty, piquant, upturned, roguish face. + +"What did Rex have to say to her?" she asked herself, in growing +dread. + +The last hope seemed withering in her proud, passionate heart. She +rose haughtily, and walked with the dignity of a queen through the +long drawing-room toward the terrace. Her heart almost stopped beating +as she caught sight of Rex leaning so gracefully against the trunk of +an old gnarled oak tree, smoking a cigar. That certainly did not look +as if he meant to greet her with a kiss. + +She went forward hesitatingly--a world of anxiety and suspense on her +face--to know her fate. The color surged over her face, then receded +from it again, as she looked at him with a smile--a smile that was +more pitiful than a sigh. + +"Rex," she cried, holding out her hands to him with a fluttering, +uncertain movement that stirred the perfumed laces of the exquisite +robe she wore, and the jewels on her white, nervous hands--"Rex, I am +here!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +We must now return to Daisy, whom we left standing in the heart of the +forest, the moonlight streaming on her upturned face, upon which the +startled horseman gazed. + +He had not waited for her to reply, but, touching his horse hastily +with his riding-whip, he sped onward with the speed of the wind. + +In that one instant Daisy had recognized the dark, sinister, handsome +face of Lester Stanwick. + +"They have searched the pit and found I was not there. He is searching +for me; he has tracked me down!" she cried, vehemently, pressing her +little white hands to her burning head. + +Faster, faster flew the little feet through the long dew-damp +grasses. + +"My troubles seem closing more darkly around me," she sobbed. "I wish +I had never been born, then I could never have spoiled Rex's life. But +I am leaving you, my love, my darling, so you can marry Pluma, the +heiress. You will forget me and be happy." + +Poor little, neglected, unloved bride, so fair, so young, so fragile, +out alone facing the dark terrors of the night, fleeing from the young +husband who was wearing his life out in grief for her. Ah, if the +gentle winds sighing above her, or the solemn, nodding trees had only +told her, how different her life might have been! + +"No one has ever loved me but poor old Uncle John!" She bent her fair +young head and cried out to Heaven: "Why has no mercy been shown to +me? I have never done one wrong, yet I am so sorely tried. Oh, mother, +mother!" she cried, raising her blue eyes up to the starry sky, "if +you could have foreseen the dark, cruel shadows that would have folded +their pitiless wings over the head of your child, would you not have +taken me with you down into the depths of the seething waters?" She +raised up her white hands pleadingly as though she would fain pierce +with her wrongs the blue skies, and reach the great White Throne. "I +must be going mad," she said. "Why did Rex seek me out?" she cried, in +anguish. "Why did Heaven let me love him so madly, and my whole life +be darkened by living apart from him if I am to live? I had no thought +of suffering and sorrow when I met him that summer morning. Are the +summer days to pass and never bring him? Are the flowers to bloom, the +sun to shine, the years to come and go, yet never bring him once to +me? I can not bear it--I do not know how to live!" + +If she could only see poor old, faithful John Brooks again she would +kneel at his feet just as she had done when she was a little child, +lay her weary head down on his toil-hardened hand, tell him how she +had suffered, and ask him how she could die and end it all. + +She longed so hungrily for some one to caress her, murmuring tender +words over her. She could almost hear his voice saying as she told +him her pitiful story: "Come to my arms, pet, my poor little trampled +Daisy! You shall never want for some one to love you while poor old +Uncle John lives. Bless your dear little heart!" + +The longing was strongly upon her. No one would recognize her--she +_must_ go and see poor old John. She never thought what would become +of her life after that. + +At the station she asked for a ticket for Allendale. No one seemed to +know of such a place. After a prolonged search on the map the agent +discovered it to be a little inland station not far from Baltimore. + +"We can sell you a ticket for Baltimore," he said, "and there you can +purchase a ticket for the other road." + +And once again poor little Daisy was whirling rapidly toward the scene +of her first great sorrow. + +Time seemed to slip by her unheeded during all that long, tedious +journey of two nights and a day. + +"Are you going to Baltimore?" asked a gentle-faced lady, who was +strangely attracted to the beautiful, sorrowful young girl, in which +all hope, life, and sunshine seemed dead. + +"Yes, madame," she made answer, "I change cars there; I am going +further." + +The lady was struck by the peculiar mournful cadence of the young +voice. + +"I beg your pardon for my seeming rudeness," she said, looking long +and earnestly at the fair young face; "but you remind me so strangely +of a young school-mate of my youth; you are strangely like what she +was then. We both attended Madame Whitney's seminary. Perhaps you have +heard of the institution; it is a very old and justly famous school." +She wondered at the beautiful flush that stole into the girl's +flower-like face--like the soft, faint tinting of a sea-shell. "She +married a wealthy planter," pursued the lady, reflectively; "but she +did not live long to enjoy her happy home. One short year after she +married Evalia Hurlhurst died." The lady never forgot the strange +glance that passed over the girl's face, or the wonderful light that +seemed to break over it. "Why," exclaimed the lady, as if a sudden +thought occurred to her, "when you bought your ticket I heard you +mention Allendale. That was the home of the Hurlhursts. Is it possible +you know them? Mr. Hurlhurst is a widower--something of a recluse, and +an invalid, I have heard; he has a daughter called Pluma." + +"Yes, madame," Daisy made answer, "I have met Miss Hurlhurst, but not +her father." + +How bitterly this stranger's words seemed to mock her! Did she know +Pluma Hurlhurst, the proud, haughty heiress who had stolen her young +husband's love from her?--the dark, sparkling, willful beauty who had +crossed her innocent young life so strangely--whom she had seen +bending over _her_ husband in the pitying moonlight almost caressing +him? She thought she would cry out with the bitterness of the thought. +How strange it was! The name, Evalia Hurlhurst, seemed to fall upon +her ears like the softest, sweetest music. Perhaps she wished she was +like that young wife, who had died so long ago, resting quietly +beneath the white daisies that bore her name. + +"That is Madame Whitney's," exclaimed the lady, leaning forward toward +the window excitedly. "Dear me! I can almost imagine I am a young girl +again. Why, what is the matter, my dear? You look as though you were +about to faint." + +The train whirled swiftly past--the broad, glittering Chesapeake on +one side, and the closely shaven lawn of the seminary on the other. It +was evidently recess. Young girls were flitting here and there under +the trees, as pretty a picture of happy school life as one would wish +to see. It seemed to poor hapless Daisy long ages must have passed +since that morning poor old John Brooks had brought her, a shy, +blushing, shrinking country lassie, among those daintily attired, +aristocratic maidens, who had laughed at her coy, timid mannerism, and +at the clothes poor John wore, and at his flaming red cotton +neckerchief. + +She had not much time for further contemplation. The train steamed +into the Baltimore depot, and she felt herself carried along by the +surging crowd that alighted from the train. + +She did not go into the waiting-room; she had quite forgotten she was +not at the end of her journey. + +She followed the crowds along the bustling street, a solitary, +desolate, heart-broken girl, with a weary white face whose beautiful, +tender eyes looked in vain among the throngs that passed her by for +one kindly face or a sympathetic look. + +Some pushed rudely by her, others looked into the beautiful face with +an ugly smile. Handsomely got-up dandies, with fine clothes and no +brains, nodded familiarly as Daisy passed them. Some laughed, and +others scoffed and jeered; but not one--dear Heaven! not one among the +vast throng gave her a kindly glance or a word. Occasionally one, +warmer hearted than the others, would look sadly on that desolate, +beautiful, childish face. + +A low moan she could scarcely repress broke from her lips. A +handsomely dressed child, who was rolling a hoop in front of her, +turned around suddenly and asked her if she was ill. + +"Ill?" She repeated the word with a vague feeling of wonder. What was +physical pain to the torture that was eating away her young life? Ill? +Why, all the illness in the world put together could not cause the +anguish she was suffering then--the sting of a broken heart. + +She was not ill--only desolate and forsaken. + +Poor Daisy answered in such a vague manner that she quite frightened +the child, who hurried away as fast as she could with her hoop, +pausing now and then to look back at the white, forlorn face on which +the sunshine seemed to cast such strange shadows. + +On and on Daisy walked, little heeding which way she went. She saw +what appeared to be a park on ahead, and there she bent her steps. The +shady seats among the cool green grasses under the leafy trees looked +inviting. She opened the gate and entered. A sudden sense of dizziness +stole over her, and her breath seemed to come in quick, convulsive +gasps. + +"Perhaps God has heard my prayer, Rex, my love," she sighed. "I am +sick and weary unto death. Oh, Rex--Rex--" + +The beautiful eyelids fluttered over the soft, blue eyes, and with +that dearly loved name on her lips, the poor little child-bride sunk +down on the cold, hard earth in a death-like swoon. + +"Oh, dear me, Harvey, who in the world is this?" cried a little, +pleasant-voiced old lady, who had witnessed the young girl enter the +gate, and saw her stagger and fall. In a moment she had fluttered down +the path, and was kneeling by Daisy's side. + +"Come here, Harvey," she called; "it is a young girl; she has +fainted." + +Mr. Harvey Tudor, the celebrated detective, threw away the cigar he +had been smoking, and hastened to his wife's side. + +"Isn't she beautiful?" cried the little lady, in ecstasy. "I wonder +who she is, and what she wanted." + +"She is evidently a stranger, and called to consult me professionally," +responded Mr. Tudor; "she must be brought into the house." + +He lifted the slight, delicate figure in his arms, and bore her into +the house. + +"I am going down to the office now, my dear," he said; "we have some +important cases to look after this morning. I will take a run up in +the course of an hour or so. If the young girl should recover and +wish to see me very particularly, I suppose you will have to send for +me. Don't get me away up here unless you find out the case is +imperative." + +And with a good-humored nod, the shrewd detective, so quiet and +domesticated at his own fireside, walked quickly down the path to the +gate, whistling softly to himself--thinking with a strange, puzzled +expression in his keen blue eyes, of Daisy. Through all of his +business transactions that morning the beautiful, childish face was +strangely before his mind's eye. + +"Confound it!" he muttered, seizing his hat, "I must hurry home and +find out at once who that pretty little creature is--and what she +wants." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +The sunny summer days came and went, lengthening themselves into long +weeks before Daisy Brooks opened her eyes to consciousness. No clew +could be found as to who the beautiful young stranger was. + +Mr. Tudor had proposed sending her to the hospital--but to this +proposition his wife would not listen. + +"No, indeed, Harvey," she exclaimed, twisting the soft, golden curls +over her white fingers, "she shall stay here where I can watch over +her myself, poor little dear." + +"You amaze me, my dear," expostulated her husband, mildly. "You can +not tell who you may be harboring." + +"Now, Harvey," exclaimed the little woman, bending over the beautiful, +still, white face resting against the crimson satin pillow, "don't +insinuate there could be anything wrong with this poor child. My +woman's judgment tells me she is as pure as those lilies in yonder +fountain's bed." + +"If you had seen as much of the world as I have, my dear, you would +take little stock in the innocence of beautiful women; very homely +women are rarely dangerous." + +"There is no use in arguing the point, Harvey. I have determined she +shall not be sent to the hospital, and she shall stay here." + +Mrs. Tudor carried the point, as she always did in every argument. + +"Well, my dear, if any ill consequences arise from this piece of folly +of yours, remember, I shirk all responsibility." + + "'When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't, + And when she won't--she won't, and there's an end on't,'" + +he quoted, dryly. "I sincerely hope you will not rue it." + +"Now, you would be surprised, my dear, to find out at some future time +you had been entertaining an angel unawares." + +"I should be _extremely_ surprised; you have put it mildly, my +dear--nay, I may say dumbfounded--to find an angel dwelling down here +below among us sinners. My experience has led me to believe the best +place for angels is up above where they belong. I am glad that _you_ +have such pretty little notions, though, my dear. It is not best for +women to know too much of the ways of the world." + +"Harvey, you shock me!" cried the little lady, holding up her hands in +horror at her liege lord's remarks. + +Still she had her own way in the matter, and Daisy stayed. + +Every day the detective grew more mystified as to who in the world she +could be. One thing was certain, she had seen some great trouble which +bid fair to dethrone her reason. + +At times she would clasp his hands, calling him Uncle John, begging +him piteously to tell her how she could die. And she talked +incoherently, too, of a dark, handsome woman's face, that had come +between her and some lost treasure. + +Then a grave look would come into the detective's face. He had seen +many such cases, and they always ended badly, he said to himself. She +had such an innocent face, so fair, so childish, he could not make up +his mind whether she was sinned against or had been guilty of a hidden +sin herself. + +Love must have something to do with it, he thought, grimly. Whenever +he saw such a hopeless, despairing look on a young and beautiful face +he always set it down as a love case in his own mind, and in nine +cases out of ten he was right. + +"Ah! it is the old, old story," he muttered. "A pretty, romantic +school-girl, and some handsome, reckless lover," and something very +much like an imprecation broke from his lips, thorough man of the +world though he was, as he ruminated on the wickedness of men. + +Two days before the marriage of Rex and Pluma was to be solemnized, +poor little Daisy awoke to consciousness, her blue eyes resting on the +joyous face of Mrs. Tudor, who bent over her with bated breath, gazing +into the upraised eyes, turned so wonderingly upon her. + +"You are to keep perfectly quiet, my dear," said Mrs. Tudor, +pleasantly, laying her hands on Daisy's lips as she attempted to +speak. "You must not try to talk or to think; turn your face from the +light, and go quietly to sleep for a bit, then you shall say what you +please." + +Daisy wondered who the lady was, as she obeyed her like an obedient, +tired child--the voice seemed so motherly, so kind, and so soothing, +as she lay there, trying to realize how she came there. Slowly all her +senses struggled into life, her memory came back, her mind and brain +grew clear. Then she remembered walking into the cool, shady garden, +and the dizziness which seemed to fall over her so suddenly. "I must +have fainted last night," she thought. She also remembered Pluma +bending so caressingly over her young husband in the moonlight, and +that the sight had almost driven her mad, and, despite her efforts to +suppress her emotion, she began to sob aloud. + +Mrs. Tudor hurried quickly to the bedside. She saw at once the ice +from the frozen fountain of memory had melted. + +"If you have any great sorrow on your mind, my dear, and wish to see +Mr. Tudor, I will call him at once. He is in the parlor." + +"Please don't," sobbed Daisy. "I don't want to see anybody. I must go +home to Uncle John at once. Have I been here all night?" + +"Why, bless your dear little heart, you have been here many a night +and many a week. We thought at one time you would surely die." + +"I wish I had," moaned Daisy. In the bitterness of her sorely wounded +heart she said to herself that Providence had done everything for her +without taking her life. + +"We thought," pursued Mrs. Tudor, gently, "that perhaps you desired to +see my husband--he is a detective--upon some matter. You fainted when +you were just within the gate." + +"Was it your garden?" asked Daisy, surprisedly. "I thought it was a +park!" + +"Then you were not in search of Mr. Tudor, my dear?" asked his wife, +quite mystified. + +"No," replied Daisy. "I wanted to get away from every one who knew me, +or every one I knew, except Uncle John." + +"I shall not question her concerning herself to-day," Mrs. Tudor +thought. "I will wait a bit until she is stronger." She felt delicate +about even asking her name. "She will seek my confidence soon," she +thought. "I must wait." + +Mrs. Tudor was a kind-hearted little soul. She tried every possible +means of diverting Daisy's attention from the absorbing sorrow which +seemed consuming her. + +She read her choice, sparkling paragraphs from the papers, commenting +upon them, in a pretty, gossiping way. + +Nothing seemed to interest the pretty little creature, or bring a +smile to the quivering, childish lips. + +"Ah! here is something quite racy!" she cried, drawing her chair up +closer to the bedside. "_A scandal in high life._ This is sure to be +entertaining." + +Mrs. Tudor was a good little woman, but, like all women in general, +she delighted in a spicy scandal. + +A handsome stranger had married a beautiful heiress. For a time all +went merry as a marriage-bell. Suddenly a second wife appeared on the +scene, of which no one previously knew the existence. The husband had +sincerely believed himself separated by law from wife number one, but +through some technicality of the law, the separation was pronounced +illegal, and the beautiful heiress bitterly realized to her cost that +she was no wife. + +"It must be a terrible calamity to be placed in such a predicament," +cried Mrs. Tudor, energetically. "I blame the husband for not finding +out beyond a doubt that he was free from his first wife." + +A sudden thought seemed to come to Daisy, so startling it almost took +her breath away. + +"Supposing a husband left his wife, and afterward thought her dead, +even though she were not, and he should marry again, would it not be +legal? Supposing the poor, deserted wife knew of it, but allowed him +to marry that some one else, because she believed he was unhappy with +herself, would it not be legal?" she repeated in an intense voice, +striving to appear calm. + +"I can scarcely understand the question, my dear. I should certainly +say, if the first wife knew her husband was about to remarry, and she +knew she was not separated from him by law or death, she was certainly +a criminal in allowing the ceremony to proceed. Why, did you ever hear +of such a peculiar case, my dear?" + +"No," replied Daisy, flushing crimson. "I was thinking of Enoch +Arden." + +"Why, there is scarcely a feature in Enoch Arden's case resembling the +one you have just cited. You must have made a mistake?" + +"Yes; you are right. I have made a mistake," muttered Daisy, growing +deadly pale. "I did not know. I believed it was right." + +"You believed what was right?" asked Mrs. Tudor, in amazement. + +"I believed it was right for the first wife to go out of her husband's +life if she had spoiled it, and leave him free to woo and win the +bride he loved," replied Daisy, pitifully embarrassed. + +"Why, you innocent child," laughed Mrs. Tudor, "I have said he would +_not_ be free as long as the law did not separate him from his first +wife, and she was alive. It is against the law of Heaven for any man +to have two wives; and if the first wife remained silent and saw the +sacred ceremony profaned by that silence, she broke the law of +Heaven--a sin against God beyond pardon. Did you speak?" she asked, +seeing Daisy's white lips move. + +She did not know a prayer had gone up to God from that young tortured +heart for guidance. + +Had she done wrong in letting Rex and the whole world believe her +dead? Was it ever well to do a wrong that good should come from it? + +And the clear, innocent, simple conscience was quick to answer, "No!" + +Poor Daisy looked at the position in every possible way, and the more +she reflected the more frightened she became. + +Poor, little, artless child-bride, she was completely bewildered. She +could find no way out of her difficulty until the idea occurred to her +that the best person to help her would be John Brooks; and her whole +heart and soul fastened eagerly on this. + +She could not realize she had lain ill so long. Oh, Heaven, what might +have happened in the meantime, if Rex should marry Pluma? She would +not be his wife because _she_--who was a barrier between them--lived. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +Daisy had decided the great question of her life. Yes, she would go to +John Brooks with her pitiful secret, and, kneeling at his feet, tell +him all, and be guided by his judgment. + +"I can never go back to Rex," she thought, wearily. "I have spoiled +his life; he does not love me; he wished to be free and marry Pluma." + +"You must not think of the troubles of other people, my dear," said +Mrs. Tudor, briskly, noting the thoughtful expression of the fair +young face. "Such cases as I have just read you are fortunately rare. +I should not have read you the scandals. Young girls like to hear +about the marriages best. Ah! here is one that is interesting--a grand +wedding which is to take place at Whitestone Hall, in Allendale, +to-morrow night. I have read of it before; it will be a magnificent +affair. The husband-to-be, Mr. Rexford Lyon, is very wealthy; and the +bride, Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, is quite a society belle--a beauty and an +heiress." + +Poor Daisy! although she had long expected it, the announcement seemed +like a death-blow to her loving little heart; in a single instant all +her yearning, passionate love for her handsome young husband awoke +into new life. + +She had suddenly awakened to the awful reality that her husband was +about to marry another. + +"Oh, pitiful Heaven, what shall I do?" she cried, wringing her hands. +"I will be too late to warn them. Yet I must--I must! It must not be!" +she cried out to herself; "the marriage would be wrong." If she +allowed it to go on, she would be guilty of a crime; therefore, she +must prevent it. + +Pluma was her mortal enemy. Yet she must warn her that the flower-covered +path she was treading led to a precipice. The very thought filled her +soul with horror. + +She wasted no more time in thinking, she must act. + +"I can not go to poor old Uncle John first," she told herself. "I must +go at once to Pluma. Heaven give me strength to do it. Rex will never +know, and I can go quietly out of his life again." + +The marriage must not be! Say, think, argue with herself as she would, +she could not help owning to herself that it was something that must +be stopped at any price. She had not realized it in its true light +before. She had had a vague idea that her supposed death would leave +Rex free to marry Pluma. That wrong could come of it, in any way, she +never once dreamed. + +The terrible awakening truth had flashed upon her suddenly; she might +hide herself forever from her husband, but it would not lessen the +fact; she, and she only, was his lawful wife before God and man. From +Heaven nothing could be hidden. + +Her whole heart seemed to go out to her young husband and cling to him +as it had never done before. + +"What a fatal love mine was!" she said to herself; "how fatal, how +cruel to me!" + +To-morrow night! Oh, Heaven! would she be in time to save him? The +very thought seemed to arouse all her energy. + +"Why, what are you going to do, my dear?" cried Mrs. Tudor, in +consternation, as Daisy staggered, weak and trembling, from her +couch. + +"I am going away," she cried. "I have been guilty of a great wrong. I +can not tell you all that I have done, but I must atone for it if it +is in my power while yet there is time. Pity me, but do not censure +me;" and sobbing as if her heart would break, she knelt at the feet of +the kind friend Heaven had given her and told her all. + +Mrs. Tudor listened in painful interest and amazement. It was a +strange story this young girl told her; it seemed more like a romance +than a page from life's history. + +"You say you must prevent this marriage at Whitestone Hall." She took +Daisy's clasped hands from her weeping face, and holding them in her +own looked into it silently, keenly, steadily. "How could you do it? +What is Rexford Lyon to you?" + +Lower and lower drooped the golden bowed head, and a voice like no +other voice, like nothing human, said: + +"I am Rex Lyon's wife, his wretched, unhappy, abandoned wife." + +Mrs. Tudor dropped her hands with a low cry of dismay. + +"You will keep my secret," sobbed Daisy; and in her great sorrow she +did not notice the lady did not promise. + +In vain Mrs. Tudor pleaded with her to go back to her husband and beg +him to hear her. + +"No," said Daisy, brokenly. "He said I had spoiled his life, and he +would never forgive me. I have never taken his name, and I never +shall. I will be Daisy Brooks until I die." + +"Daisy Brooks!" The name seemed familiar to Mrs. Tudor, yet she could +not tell where she had heard it before. + +Persuasion was useless. "Perhaps Heaven knows best," sighed Mrs. +Tudor, and with tears in her eyes (for she had really loved the +beautiful young stranger, thrown for so many long weeks upon her mercy +and kindness) she saw Daisy depart. + +"May God grant you may not be too late!" she cried, fervently, +clasping the young girl, for the last time, in her arms. + +Too late! The words sounded like a fatal warning to her. No, no; she +could not, she must not, be too late! + + * * * * * + +At the very moment Daisy had left the detective's house, Basil +Hurlhurst was closeted with Mr. Tudor in his private office, relating +minutely the disappearance of his infant daughter, as told him by the +dying housekeeper, Mrs. Corliss. + +"I will make you a rich man for life," he cried, vehemently, "if you +can trace my long-lost child, either dead or alive!" + +Mr. Tudor shook his head. "I am inclined to think there is little +hope, after all these years." + +"Stranger things than that have happened," cried Basil Hurlhurst, +tremulously. "You must give me hope, Mr. Tudor. You are a skillful, +expert detective; you will find her, if any one can. If my other child +were living," he continued, with an effort, "you know it would make +considerable difference in the distribution of my property. On the +night my lost child was born I made my will, leaving Whitestone Hall +and the Hurlhurst Plantations to the child just born, and the +remainder of my vast estates I bequeathed to my daughter Pluma. I +believed my little child buried with its mother, and in all these +years that followed I never changed that will--it still stands. My +daughter Pluma is to be married to-morrow night. I have not told her +of the startling discovery I have made; for if anything should come of +it, her hopes of a lifetime would be dashed. She believes herself sole +heiress to my wealth. I have made up my mind, however," he continued, +eagerly, "to confide in the young man who is to be my future +son-in-law. If nothing ever comes of this affair, Pluma need never +know of it." + +"That would be a wise and safe plan," assented the detective. + +"Wealth can have no influence over him," continued the father, +reflectively; "for Mr. Rex Lyon's wealth is sufficient for them, even +if they never had a single dollar from me; still, it is best to +mention this matter to him." + +Rex Lyon! Ah! the detective remembered him well--the handsome, +debonair young fellow who had sought his services some time since, +whose wife had died such a tragic death. He remembered how sorry he +had been for the young husband; still he made no comment. He had +little time to ruminate upon past affairs. It was his business now to +glean from Mr. Hurlhurst all the information possible to assist him in +the difficult search he was about to commence. If he gave him even the +slightest clew, he could have had some definite starting point. The +detective was wholly at sea--it was like looking for a needle in a +hay-stack. + +"You will lose no time," said Basil Hurlhurst, rising to depart. "Ah!" +he exclaimed, "I had forgotten to leave you my wife's portrait. I have +a fancy the child, if living, must have her mother's face." + +At that opportune moment some one interrupted them. Mr. Tudor had not +time to open the portrait and examine it then, and, placing it +securely in his private desk, he courteously bade Mr. Hurlhurst +good-afternoon; adding, if he _should_ find a possible clew, he would +let him know at once, or, perhaps, take a run up to Whitestone Hall to +look around a bit among the old inhabitants of that locality. + +It was almost time for quitting the office for the night, when the +detective thought of the portrait. He untied the faded blue ribbon, +and touched the spring; the case flew open, revealing a face that made +him cry out in amazement: + +"Pshaw! people have a strange trick of resembling each other very +often," he muttered; "I must be mistaken." + +Yet the more he examined the fair, bewitching face of the portrait, +with its childish face and sunny, golden curls, the more he knit his +brow and whistled softly to himself--a habit he had when thinking +deeply. + +He placed the portrait in his breast-pocket, and walked slowly home. A +brilliant idea was in his active brain. + +"I shall soon see," he muttered. + +His wife met him at the door, and he saw that her eyes were red with +weeping. + +"What is the commotion, my dear?" he asked, hanging his hat and coat +on the hat-rack in the hall. "What's the difficulty?" + +"Our protégée has gone, Harvey; she--" + +"Gone!" yelled the detective, frantically, "where did she go? How long +has she been gone?" + +Down from the rack came his hat and coat. + +"Where are you going, Harvey?" + +"I am going to hunt that girl up just as fast as I can." + +"She did not wish to see you, my dear." + +"I haven't the time to explain to you," he expostulated. "Of course, +you have no idea where she went, have you?" + +"Wait a bit, Harvey," she replied, a merry twinkle in her eye. "You +have given me no time to tell you. I do know where she went. Sit down +and I will tell you all about it." + +"You will make a long story out of nothing," he exclaimed, impatiently; +"and fooling my time here may cost me a fortune." + +Very reluctantly Mr. Tudor resumed his seat at his wife's earnest +persuasion. + +"Skim lightly over the details, my dear; just give me the main +points," he said. + +Like the good little wife she was, Mrs. Tudor obediently obeyed. + +It was not often the cool, calculating detective allowed himself to +get excited, but as she proceeded he jumped up from his seat, and +paced restlessly up and down the room. He was literally astounded. + +"Rex Lyon's wife," he mused, thoughtfully. "Well, in all the years of +my experience I have never come across anything like this. She has +gone to Whitestone Hall, you say, to stop the marriage?" he +questioned, eagerly. + +"Yes," she replied, "the poor child was almost frantic over it. You +seem greatly agitated, Harvey. Have you some new case connected with +her?" + +"Yes," he answered, grimly. "I think I have two cases." + +Mr. Tudor seldom brought his business perplexities to his fireside. +His little wife knew as little of business matters as the sparrows +twittering on the branches of the trees out in the garden. + +He made up his mind not to mention certain suspicions that had lodged +in his mind until he saw his way clearly out of the complicated +affair. + +He determined it would do no harm to try an experiment, however. +Suiting the action to the thought, he drew out the portrait from his +pocket. + +"I do not think I shall have as much trouble with this affair as I +anticipated." + +Mrs. Tudor came and leaned over his shoulder. + +"Whose picture have you there, Harvey? Why, I declare," she cried, in +amazement, "if it isn't Daisy Brooks!" + +"Mrs. Rex Lyon, you mean," said the detective, with a sly twinkle in +his eye. "But for once in your life you are at sea--and far from +shore; this portrait represents a different person altogether. Come, +come, wife, get me a cup of tea--quick--and a biscuit," he cried, +leading the way to the kitchen, where the savory supper was cooking. +"I haven't time to wait for tea, I must overtake that girl before she +reaches Whitestone Hall." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +The shade of night was wrapping its dusky mantle over the earth as +Daisy, flushed and excited, and trembling in every limb, alighted from +the train at Allendale. + +Whitestone Hall was quite a distance from the station; she had quite a +walk before her. + +Not a breath of air seemed to stir the branches of the trees, and the +inky blackness of the sky presaged the coming storm. + +Since dusk the coppery haze seemed to gather itself together; great +purple masses of clouds piled themselves in the sky; a lurid light +overspread the heavens, and now and then the dense, oppressive silence +was broken by distant peals of thunder, accompanied by great fierce +rain-drops. + +Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, struggling bravely on through +the storm and the darkness, her heart beating so loudly she wondered +it did not break. + +Poor child! how little she knew she was fast approaching the crisis of +her life! + +She remembered, with a little sob, the last time she had traversed +that road--she was seated by John Brooks's side straining her eyes +toward the bend in the road, watching eagerly for the first glimpse of +the magnolia-tree, and the handsome young husband waiting there. + +Coy blushes suffused Daisy's cheeks as she struggled on through the +pouring rain. She forgot she was a wretched, unpitied, forsaken little +bride, on a mission of such great importance. She was only a simple +child, after all, losing sight of all the whole world, as her thoughts +dwelt on the handsome young fellow, her husband in name only, whom she +saw waiting for her at the trysting-place, looking so cool, so +handsome and lovable in his white linen suit and blue tie; his white +straw hat, with the blue-dotted band around it, lying on the green +grass beside him, and the sunshine drifting through the green leaves +on his smiling face and brown, curling hair. + +"If Rex had only known I was innocent, he could not have judged me so +harshly. Oh, my love--my love!" she cried out. "Heaven must have made +us for each other, but a fate more cruel than death has torn us +asunder. Oh, Rex, my love, if you had only been more patient with +me!" + +She crept carefully along the road through the intense darkness and +the down-pouring rain. She knew every inch of the ground. She could +not lose her way. She reached the turn in the road which was but a few +feet distant from the magnolia-tree where first she had met Rex and +where she had seen him last--a few steps more and she would reach it. + +A blinding glare of lightning lighted up the scene for one brief +instant; there was the tree, but, oh! was it only a fancy of her +imagination? she thought she saw a man's figure kneeling under it. + +"Who was he, and what was he doing there?" she wondered. She stood +rooted to the spot. "Perhaps he had taken refuge there from the fury +of the storm." + +Daisy was a shrinking, timid little creature; she dared not move a +step further, although the golden moments that flitted by were as +precious as her life-blood. + +She drew back, faint with fear, among the protecting shadows of the +trees. Another flash of light--the man was surely gathering wild +flowers from the rain-drenched grass. + +"Surely the man must be mad," thought Daisy, with a cold thrill of +horror. + +Her limbs trembled so from sheer fright they refused to bear her +slight weight, and with a shudder of terror she sunk down in the wet +grass, her eyes fixed as one fascinated on the figure under the tree, +watching his every movement, as the lurid lightning illumined the +scene at brief intervals. + +The great bell from the turret of Whitestone Hall pealed the hour of +seven, and in the lightning's flash she saw the man arise from his +knees; in one hand he held a small bunch of flowers, the other was +pressed over his heart. + +Surely there was something strangely familiar in that graceful form; +then he turned his face toward her. + +In that one instantaneous glance she had recognized him--it was Rex, +her husband--as he turned hastily from the spot, hurrying rapidly away +in the direction of Whitestone Hall. + +"Why was Rex there alone on his wedding-night under the magnolia-tree +in the terrible storm?" she asked herself, in a strange, bewildered +way. "What could it mean?" She had heard the ceremony was to be +performed promptly at half past eight, it was seven already. "What +could it mean?" + +She had been too much startled and dismayed when she found it was Rex +to make herself known. Ah, no, Rex must never know she was so near +him; it was Pluma she must see. + +"Why had he come to the magnolia-tree?" she asked herself over and +over again. A moment later she had reached the self-same spot, and was +kneeling beneath the tree, just as Rex had done. She put out her +little white hand to caress the grass upon which her husband had +knelt, but it was not grass which met her touch, but a bed of flowers; +that was strange, too. + +She never remembered flowers to grow on that spot. There was nothing +but the soft carpet of green grass, she remembered. + +One or two beneath her touch were broken from the stem. She knew Rex +must have dropped them, and the poor little soul pressed the flowers +to her lips, murmuring passionate, loving words over them. She did not +know the flowers were daisies; yet they seemed so familiar to the +touch. + +She remembered how she had walked home from the rectory with Rex in +the moonlight, and thought to herself how funny it sounded to hear Rex +call her his wife, in that rich melodious voice of his. Septima had +said it was such a terrible thing to be married. She had found it just +the reverse, as she glanced up into her pretty young husband's face, +as they walked home together; and how well she remembered how Rex had +taken her in his arms at the gate, kissing her rosy, blushing face, +until she cried out for mercy. + +A sudden, blinding flash of lightning lighted up the spot with a lurid +light, and she saw a little white cross, with white daisies growing +around it, and upon the cross, in that one meteoric flash, she read +the words, "Sacred to the memory of Daisy Brooks." + +She did not faint, or cry out, or utter any word. She realized all in +an instant why Rex had been there. Perhaps he felt some remorse for +casting her off so cruelly. If some tender regret for her, whom he +supposed dead, was not stirring in his heart, why was he there, +kneeling before the little cross which bore her name, on his +wedding-night? + +Could it be that he had ever loved her? She held out her arms toward +the blazing lights that shone in the distance from Whitestone Hall, +with a yearning, passionate cry. Surely, hers was the saddest fate +that had ever fallen to the lot of a young girl. + +A great thrill of joy filled her heart, that she was able to prevent +the marriage. + +She arose from her knees and made her way swiftly through the storm +and the darkness, toward the distant cotton fields. She did not wish +to enter the Hall by the main gate; there was a small path, seldom +used, that led to the Hall, which she had often taken from John +Brooks's cottage; that was the one she chose to-night. + +Although the storm raged in all its fury without, the interior of +Whitestone Hall was ablaze with light, that streamed with a bright, +golden glow from every casement. + +Strains of music, mingled with the hum of voices, fell upon Daisy's +ear, as she walked hurriedly up the path. The damp air that swept +across her face with the beating rain was odorous with the perfume of +rare exotics. + +The path up which she walked commanded a full view of Pluma +Hurlhurst's boudoir. + +The crimson satin curtains, for some reason, were still looped back, +and she could see the trim little maid arranging her long dark hair; +she wore a silver-white dressing-robe, bordered around with soft +white swan's-down and her dainty white satin-slippered feet rested on +a crimson velvet hassock. + +"How beautiful she is!" thought the poor little child-wife, wistfully +gazing at her fair, false enemy. "I can not wonder Rex is dazzled by +her peerless, royal beauty. I was mad to indulge the fatal, foolish +dream that he could ever love me, poor, plain little Daisy Brooks." + +Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, and her thick veil more +securely over her face. As she raised the huge brass knocker her heart +beat pitifully, yet she told herself she must be brave to the bitter +end. + +One, two, three minutes passed. Was no one coming to answer the +summons? Yes--some one came at last, a spruce little French maid, whom +Daisy never remembered having seen before. + +She laughed outright when Daisy falteringly stated her errand. + +"You are mad to think mademoiselle will see you to-night," she +answered, contemptuously. "Do you not know this is her wedding-night?" + +"She is not married _yet_?" cried Daisy, in a low, wailing voice. "Oh, +I must see her!" + +With a quizzical expression crossing her face the girl shrugged her +shoulders, as she scanned the little dark, dripping figure, answering +mockingly: + +"The poor make one grand mistake, insisting on what the rich must do. +I say again, my lady will not see you--you had better go about your +business." + +"Oh, I _must_ see her! indeed, I must!" pleaded Daisy. "Your heart, +dear girl, is human, and you can see my anguish is no light one." + +Her courage and high resolve seemed to give way, and she wept--as +women weep only once in a lifetime--but the heart of the French maid +was obdurate. + +"Mademoiselle would only be angry," she said; "it would be as much as +my place is worth to even mention you to her." + +"But my errand can brook no delay," urged Daisy. "You do not realize," +she gasped, brokenly, while her delicate frame was shaken with sobs, +and the hot tears fell like rain down her face. + +"All that you say is useless," cried the girl, impatiently, as she +purposely obstructed the passage-way, holding the doorknob in her +hand; "all your speech is in vain--she will not see you, I say--I will +not take her your message." + +"Then I will go to her myself," cried Daisy, in desperate determination. + +"What's the matter, Marie?" cried a shrill voice from the head of the +rose-lighted stairway; "what in the world keeps you down there so +long? Come here instantly." + +Daisy knew too well the handsome, impatient face and the imperious, +commanding voice. + +"Miss Hurlhurst," she called out, piteously, "I must see you for a few +minutes. I shall die if you refuse me. My errand is one of almost life +and death; if you knew how vitally important it was you would not +refuse me," she panted. + +Pluma Hurlhurst laughed a little hard laugh that had no music in it. + +"What would a hundred lives or deaths matter to me?" she said, +contemptuously. "I would not listen to you ten minutes to-night if I +actually knew it was to save your life," cried the haughty beauty, +stamping her slippered foot impatiently. + +"It is for your own sake," pleaded Daisy. "See, I kneel to you, Miss +Hurlhurst. If you would not commit a crime, I implore you by all you +hold sacred, to hear me--grant me but a few brief moments." + +"Not an instant," cried Pluma, scornfully; "shut the door, Marie, and +send that person from the house." + +"Oh, what shall I do!" cried Daisy, wringing her hands. "I am driven +to the very verge of madness! Heaven pity me--the bitter consequence +must fall upon your own head." + +She turned away with a low, bitter cry, as the maid slammed the heavy +oaken door in her face. + +"There is no other way for me to do," she told herself, despairingly, +"but to see Rex. I do not know how I am going to live through the +ordeal of entering his presence--listening to his voice--knowing I +bring him such a burden of woe--spoiling his life for the second +time." + +She did not hear the door quietly reopen. + +"I have heard all that has just passed, young lady," said a kind voice +close beside her. "I am extremely sorry for you--your case seems a +pitiful one. I am sorry my daughter refused to see you; perhaps I can +be of some assistance to you. I am Miss Hurlhurst's father." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +For a moment Daisy stood irresolute. "Follow me into my study, and +tell me your trouble. You say it concerns my daughter. Perhaps I can +advise you." + +Ah, yes! he above all others could help her--he was Pluma's father--he +could stop the fatal marriage. She would not be obliged to face Rex. + +Without another word Daisy turned and followed him. Although Daisy had +lived the greater portion of her life at John Brooks' cottage on the +Hurlhurst plantation, this was the first time she had ever gazed upon +the face of the recluse master of Whitestone Hall. He had spent those +years abroad; and poor Daisy's banishment dated from the time the lawn +fête had been given in honor of their return. + +Daisy glanced shyly up through her veil with a strange feeling of awe +at the noble face, with the deep lines of suffering around the mouth, +as he opened his study door, and, with a stately inclination of the +head, bade her enter. + +"His face is not like Pluma's," she thought, with a strange flutter at +her heart. "He looks good and kind. I am sure I can trust him." + +Daisy was quite confused as she took the seat he indicated. Mr. +Hurlhurst drew up his arm-chair opposite her, and waited with the +utmost patience for her to commence. + +She arose and stood before him, clasping her trembling little white +hands together supplicatingly. He could not see her face, for she +stood in the shadow, and the room was dimly lighted; but he knew that +the sweet, pathetic voice was like the sound of silvery bells chiming +some half-forgotten strain. + +"I have come to tell you this wedding can not--must not--go on +to-night!" she cried, excitedly. + +Basil Hurlhurst certainly thought the young girl standing before him +must be mad. + +"I do not understand," he said, slowly, yet gently. "Why do you, a +stranger, come to me on my daughter's wedding-night with such words as +these? What reason can you offer why this marriage should not +proceed?" + +He could not tell whether she had heard his words or not, she stood +before him so silent, her little hands working nervously together. She +looked wistfully into his face, and she drew her slender figure up to +its full height, as she replied, in a low, passionate, musical voice: + +"Mr. Lyon can not marry your daughter, sir, for he has a living +wife." + +"Mr. Lyon has a wife?" repeated Basil Hurlhurst, literally dumbfounded +with amazement. "In Heaven's name, explain yourself!" he cried, rising +hastily from his chair and facing her. + +The agitation on his face was almost alarming. His grand old face was +as white as his linen. His eyes were full of eager, painful suspense +and excitement. With a violent effort at self-control he restrained +his emotions, sinking back in his arm-chair like one who had received +an unexpected blow. + +Daisy never remembered in what words she told him the startling truth. +He never interrupted her until she had quite finished. + +"You will not blame Rex," she pleaded, her sweet voice choking with +emotion; "he believes me dead." + +Basil Hurlhurst did not answer; his thoughts were too confused. Yes, +it was but too true--the marriage could not go on. He reached hastily +toward the bell-rope. + +"You will not let my--Rex know until I am far away," she cried, +piteously, as she put her marriage certificate in Mr. Hurlhurst's +hand. + +"I am going to send for Rex to come here at once," he made answer. + +With a low, agonized moan, Daisy grasped his outstretched hand, +scarcely knowing what she did. + +"Oh, please do not, Mr. Hurlhurst," she sobbed. "Rex must not see me; +I should die if you sent for him; I could not bear it--indeed, I could +not." She was looking at him, all her heart in her eyes, and, as if he +felt magnetically the power of her glance, he turned toward her, +meeting the earnest gaze of the blue, uplifted eyes. + +The light fell full upon her fair, flushed face, and the bonnet and +veil she wore had fallen back from the golden head. + +A sudden mist seemed to come before his eyes, and he caught his breath +with a sharp gasp. + +"What did you say your name was before you were married?" he asked, in +a low, intense voice. "I--I--did not quite understand." + +"Daisy Brooks, your overseer's niece," she answered, simply. + +She wondered why he uttered such a dreary sigh as he muttered, half +aloud, how foolish he was to catch at every straw of hope. + +Carefully he examined the certificate. It was too true. It certainly +certified Rexford Lyon and Daisy Brooks were joined together in the +bonds of matrimony nearly a year before. And then he looked at the +paper containing the notice of her tragic death, which Daisy had read +and carefully saved. Surely no blame could be attached to Rex, in the +face of these proofs. + +He was sorry for the beautiful, haughty heiress, to whom this terrible +news would be a great shock; he was sorry for Rex, he had grown so +warmly attached to him of late, but he felt still more sorry for the +fair child-bride, toward whom he felt such a yearning, sympathetic +pity. + +The great bell in the tower slowly pealed the hour of eight, with a +dull, heavy clang, and he suddenly realized what was to be done must +be done at once. + +"I must send for both Rex and Pluma," he said, laying his hands on the +beautiful, bowed head; "but, if it will comfort you to be unobserved +during the interview, you shall have your wish." He motioned her to +one of the curtained recesses, and placed her in an easy-chair. He saw +she was trembling violently. + +It was a hard ordeal for him to go through, but there was no +alternative. + +He touched the bell with a shaking hand, thrusting the certificate and +paper into his desk. + +"Summon my daughter Pluma to me at once," he said to the servant who +answered the summons, "and bid Mr. Lyon come to me here within half an +hour." + +He saw the man held a letter in his hand. + +"If you please, sir," said the man, "as I was coming to answer your +bell I met John Brooks, your overseer, in the hall below. A stranger +was with him, who requested me to give you this without delay." + +Basil Hurlhurst broke open the seal. There were but a few penciled +words, which ran as follows: + + "MR. HURLHURST,--Will you kindly grant me an immediate interview? + I shall detain you but a few moments. + + "Yours, hastily, + "HARVEY TUDOR, + "Of Tudor, Peck & Co, Detectives, Baltimore." + +The man never forgot the cry that came from his master's lips as he +read those brief words. + +"Yes, tell him to come up at once," he cried; "I will see him here." + +He forgot the message he had sent for Pluma and Rex--forgot the +shrinking, timid little figure in the shadowy drapery of the +curtains--even the gay hum of the voices down below, and the strains +of music, or that the fatal marriage moment was drawing near. + +He was wondering if the detective's visit brought him a gleam of hope. +Surely he could have no other object in calling so hurriedly on this +night above all other nights. + +A decanter of wine always sat on the study table. He turned toward it +now with feverish impatience, poured out a full glass with his nervous +fingers, and drained it at a single draught. + +A moment later the detective and John Brooks, looking pale and +considerably excited, were ushered into the study. + +For a single instant the master of Whitestone Hall glanced into the +detective's keen gray eyes for one ray of hope, as he silently grasped +his extended hand. + +"I see we are alone," said Mr. Tudor, glancing hurriedly around the +room--"we three, I mean," he added. + +Suddenly Basil Hurlhurst thought of the young girl, quite hidden from +view. + +"No," he answered, leading the way toward an inner room, separated +from the study by a heavy silken curtain; "but in this apartment we +shall certainly be free from interruption. Your face reveals nothing," +he continued, in an agitated voice, "but I believe you have brought me +news of my child." + +Basil Hurlhurst had no idea the conversation carried on in the small +apartment to which he had conducted them could be overheard from the +curtained recess in which Daisy sat. But he was mistaken; Daisy could +hear every word of it. + +She dared not cry out or walk forth from her place of concealment lest +she should come suddenly face to face with Rex. + +As the light had fallen on John Brooks' honest face, how she had +longed to spring forward with a glad little cry and throw herself into +his strong, sheltering arms! She wondered childishly why he was there +with Mr. Tudor, the detective, whose voice she had instantly +recognized. + +"I have two errands here to-night," said the detective, pleasantly. "I +hope I shall bring good news, in one sense; the other we will discuss +later on." + +The master of Whitestone Hall made no comments; still he wondered why +the detective had used the words "one sense." Surely, he thought, +turning pale, his long-lost child could not be dead. + +Like one in a dream, Daisy heard the detective go carefully over the +ground with Basil Hurlhurst--all the incidents connected with the loss +of his child. Daisy listened out of sheer wonder. She could not tell +why. + +"I think we have the right clew," continued the detective, "but we +have no actual proof to support our supposition; there is one part +still cloudy." + +There were a few low-murmured words spoken to John Brooks. There was a +moment of silence, broken by her uncle John's voice. For several +moments he talked rapidly and earnestly, interrupted now and then by +an exclamation of surprise from the master of Whitestone Hall. + +Every word John Brooks uttered pierced Daisy's heart like an arrow. +She uttered a little, sharp cry, but no one heard her. She fairly held +her breath with intense interest. Then she heard the detective tell +them the story of Rex Lyon's marriage with her, and he had come to +Whitestone Hall to stop the ceremony about to be performed. + +Basil Hurlhurst scarcely heeded his words. He had risen to his feet +with a great, glad cry, and pushed aside the silken curtains that led +to the study. As he did so he came face to face with Daisy Brooks, +standing motionless, like a statue, before him. Then she fell, with a +low, gasping cry, senseless at Basil Hurlhurst's feet. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +Pluma Hurlhurst received her father's summons with no little surprise. +"What can that foolish old man want, I wonder?" she soliloquized, +clasping the diamond-studded bracelets on her perfect arms. "I shall +be heartily glad when I am Rex Lyon's wife. I shall soon tell him, +then, in pretty plain words, I am not at his beck and call any longer. +Come to him instantly, indeed! I shall certainly do no such thing," +she muttered. + +"Did you speak, mademoiselle?" asked the maid. + +"No," replied Pluma, glancing at the little jeweled watch that +glittered in its snow-white velvet case. She took it up with a +caressing movement. "How foolish I was to work myself up into such a +fury of excitement, when Rex sent for me to present me with the +jewels!" she laughed, softly, laying down the watch, and taking up an +exquisite jeweled necklace, admired the purity and beauty of the soft, +white, gleaming stones. + +The turret-bell had pealed the hour of eight; she had yet half an +hour. + +She never could tell what impulse prompted her to clasp the shining +gems around her white throat, even before she had removed her +dressing-robe. + +She leaned back dreamily in her cushioned chair, watching the effect +in the mirror opposite. + +Steadfastly she gazed at the wondrous loveliness of the picture she +made, the dark, lustrous eyes, gleaming with unwonted brilliancy, with +their jetty fringe; the rich, red lips, and glowing cheeks. + +"There are few such faces in the world," she told herself triumphantly. + +Those were the happiest moments proud, peerless Pluma Hurlhurst was +ever to know--"before the hour should wane the fruition of all her +hopes would be attained." + +No feeling of remorse stole over her to imbitter the sweets of her +triumphant thoughts. + +She had lived in a world of her own, planning and scheming, wasting +her youth, her beauty, and her genius, to accomplish the one great +ultimatum--winning Rex Lyon's love. + +She took from her bosom a tiny vial, containing a few white, flaky +crystals. "I shall not need this now," she told herself. "If Lester +Stanwick had intended to interfere he would have done so ere this; he +has left me to myself, realizing his threats were all in vain; yet I +have been sore afraid. Rex will never know that I lied and schemed to +win his love, or that I planned the removal of Daisy Brooks from his +path so cleverly; he will never know that I have deceived him, or the +wretched story of my folly and passionate, perilous love. I could not +have borne the shame and the exposure; there would have been but one +escape"--quite unconsciously she slid the vial into the pocket of her +silken robe--"I have lived a coward's life; I should have died a +coward's death." + +"It is time to commence arranging your toilet, mademoiselle," said the +maid, approaching her softly with the white glimmering satin robe, and +fleecy veil over her arm. "My fingers are deft, but you have not one +moment to spare." + +Pluma waved her off with an imperious gesture. + +"Not yet," she said. "I suppose I might as well go down first as last +to see what in the world he wants with me; he should have come to me +if he had wished to see me so very particularly;" and the dutiful +daughter, throwing the train of her dress carelessly over her arm, +walked swiftly through the brilliantly lighted corridor toward Basil +Hurlhurst's study. She turned the knob and entered. The room was +apparently deserted. "Not here!" she muttered, with surprise. "Well, +my dear, capricious father, I shall go straight back to my apartments. +You shall come to me hereafter." As she turned to retrace her steps a +hand was laid upon her shoulder, and a woman's voice whispered close +to her ear: + +"I was almost afraid I should miss you--fate is kind." + +Pluma Hurlhurst recoiled from the touch, fairly holding her breath, +speechless with fury and astonishment. + +"You insolent creature!" she cried. "I wonder at your boldness in +forcing your presence upon me. Did I not have you thrust from the +house an hour ago, with the full understanding I would not see you, no +matter who you were or whom you wanted." + +"I was not at the door an hour ago," replied the woman, coolly; "it +must have been some one else. I have been here--to Whitestone +Hall--several times before, but you have always eluded me. You shall +not do so to-night. You shall listen to what I have come to say to +you." + +For once in her life the haughty, willful heiress was completely taken +aback, and she sunk into the arm-chair so lately occupied by Basil +Hurlhurst. + +"I shall ring for the servants, and have you thrown from the house; +such impudence is unheard of, you miserable creature!" + +She made a movement toward the bell-rope, but the woman hastily thrust +her back into her seat, crossed over, turned the key in the lock, and +hastily removed it. Basil Hurlhurst and John Brooks were about to rush +to her assistance, but the detective suddenly thrust them back, +holding up his hand warningly. + +"Not yet," he whispered; "we will wait until we know what this strange +affair means. I shall request you both to remain perfectly quiet until +by word or signal I advise you to act differently." + +And, breathless with interest, the three, divided only by the silken +hanging curtains, awaited eagerly further developments of the strange +scene being enacted before them. + +Pluma's eyes flashed like ebony fires, and unrestrained passion was +written on every feature of her face, as the woman took her position +directly in front of her with folded arms, and dark eyes gleaming +quite as strangely as her own. Pluma, through sheer astonishment at +her peculiar, deliberate manner, was hushed into strange expectancy. + +For some moments the woman gazed into her face, coolly--deliberately--her +eyes fastening themselves on the diamond necklace which clasped her +throat, quivering with a thousand gleaming lights. + +"You are well cared for," she said, with a harsh, grating laugh, that +vibrated strangely on the girl's ear. "You have the good things of +life, while I have only the hardships. I am a fool to endure it. I +have come to you to-night to help me--and you must do it." + +"Put the key in that door instantly, or I shall cry out for +assistance. I have heard of insolence of beggars, but certainly this +is beyond all imagination. How dare you force your obnoxious presence +upon me? I will not listen to another word; you shall suffer for this +outrage, woman! Open the door instantly, I say." + +She did not proceed any further in her breathless defiance of retort; +the woman coolly interrupted her with that strange, grating laugh +again, as she answered, authoritatively: + +"I shall not play at cross-purposes with you any longer; it is plainly +evident there is little affection lost between us. You will do exactly +as I say, Pluma; you may spare yourself a great deal that may be +unpleasant--if you not only listen but quietly obey me. Otherwise--" + +Pluma sprung wildly to her feet. + +"Obey you! obey you!" + +She would have screamed the words in her ungovernable rage, had not a +look from this woman's eyes, who used her name with such ill-bred +familiarity, actually frightened her. + +"Be sensible and listen to what I intend you shall hear, and, as I +said and repeat, obey. You have made a slight mistake in defying me, +young lady. I hoped and intended to be your friend and adviser; but +since you have taken it into your head to show such an aversion to me, +it will be so much the worse for you, for I fully intend you shall act +hereafter under my instructions; it has spoiled you allowing you to +hold the reins in your own hands unchecked." + +"Oh, you horrible creature! I shall have you arrested and--" + +The woman interrupted her gasping, vindictive words again, more +imperiously than before. + +"Hush! not another word; you will not tell any one a syllable of what +has passed in this room." + +"Do you dare threaten me in my own house," cried Pluma, fairly beside +herself with passion. "I begin to believe you are not aware to whom +you are speaking. You shall not force me to listen. I shall raise the +window and cry out to the guests below." + +"Very well, then. I find I am compelled to tell you something I never +intended you should know--something that, unless I am greatly mistaken +in my estimate of you, will change your high and mighty notions +altogether." + +The woman was bending so near her, her breath almost scorched her +cheek. + +"I want money," she said, her thin lips quivering in an evil smile, +"and it is but right that you should supply me with it. Look at the +diamonds, representing a fortune, gleaming on your throat, while I am +lacking the necessaries of life." + +"What is that to me?" cried Pluma, scornfully. "Allow me to pass from +the room, and I will send my maid back to you with a twenty-dollar +note. My moments are precious; do not detain me." + +The woman laughed contemptuously. + +"Twenty dollars, indeed!" she sneered, mockingly. "Twenty thousand +will not answer my purpose. From this time forth I intend to live as +befits a lady. I want that necklace you are wearing, as security that +you will produce the required sum for me before to-morrow night." + +The coarse proposal amazed Pluma. + +"I thought Whitestone Hall especially guarded against thieves," she +said, steadily. "You seem to be a desperate woman; but I, Pluma +Hurlhurst, do not fear you. We will pass over the remarks you have +just uttered as simply beyond discussion." + +With a swift, gliding motion she attempted to reach the bell-rope. +Again the woman intercepted her. + +"Arouse the household if you dare!" hissed the woman, tightening her +hold upon the white arm upon which the jewels flashed and quivered. +"If Basil Hurlhurst knew what I know you would be driven from this +house before an hour had passed." + +"I--I--do not know what you mean," gasped Pluma, her great courage and +fortitude sinking before this woman's fearlessness and defiant +authority. + +"No, you don't know what I mean; and little you thank me for carrying +the treacherous secret since almost the hour of your birth. It is time +for you to know the truth at last. You are not the heiress of +Whitestone Hall--you are not Basil Hurlhurst's child!" + +Pluma's face grew deathly white; a strange mist seemed gathering +before her. + +"I can not--seem--to--grasp--what you mean, or who you are to terrify +me so." + +A mocking smile played about the woman's lips as she replied, in a +slow, even, distinct voice: + +"I am your mother, Pluma!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +At the self-same moment that the scene just described was being +enacted in the study Rex Lyon was pacing to and fro in his room, +waiting for the summons of Pluma to join the bridal-party in the +corridor and adjourn to the parlors below, where the guests and the +minister awaited them. + +He walked toward the window and drew aside the heavy curtains. The +storm was beating against the window-pane as he leaned his feverish +face against the cool glass, gazing out into the impenetrable darkness +without. + +Try as he would to feel reconciled to his marriage he could not do it. +How could he promise at the altar to love, honor, and cherish the wife +whom he was about to wed? + +He might honor and cherish her, but love her he could not, no matter +for all the promises he might make. The power of loving was directed +from Heaven above--it was not for mortals to accept or reject at +will. + +His heart seemed to cling with a strange restlessness to Daisy, the +fair little child-bride, whom he had loved so passionately--his first +and only love, sweet little Daisy! + +From the breast-pocket of his coat he took the cluster of daisies he +had gone through the storm on his wedding-night to gather. He was +waiting until the monument should arrive before he could gather +courage to tell Pluma the sorrowful story of his love-dream. + +All at once he remembered the letter a stranger had handed him outside +of the entrance gate. He had not thought much about the matter until +now. Mechanically he picked it up from the mantel, where he had tossed +it upon entering the room, glancing carelessly at the superscription. +His countenance changed when he saw it; his lips trembled, and a hard, +bitter light crept into his brown eyes. He remembered the chirography +but too well. + +"From Stanwick!" he cried, leaning heavily against the mantel. + +Rex read the letter through with a burning flush on his face, which +grew white as with the pallor of death as he read; a dark mist was +before his eyes, the sound of surging waters in his ears. + +"OLD COLLEGE CHUM,"--it began,--"For the sake of those happy hours of +our school-days, you will please favor me by reading what I have +written to the end. + +"If you love Pluma Hurlhurst better than your sense of honor this +letter is of no avail. I can not see you drifting on to ruin without +longing to save you. You have been cleverly caught in the net the +scheming heiress has set for you. It is certainly evident she loves +you with a love which is certainly a perilous one. There is not much +safety in the fierce, passionate love of a desperate, jealous woman. +You will pardon me for believing at one time your heart was elsewhere. +You will wonder why I refer to that; it will surprise you to learn, +that one subject forms the basis of this letter. I refer to little +Daisy Brooks. + +"You remember the night you saw little Daisy home, burning with +indignation at the cut direct--which Pluma had subjected the pretty +little fairy to? I simply recall that fact, as upon that event hangs +the terrible sequel which I free my conscience by unfolding. You had +scarcely left the Hall ere Pluma called me to her side. + +"'Do not leave me, Lester,' she said; 'I want to see you; remain until +after all the guests have left.' + +"I did so. You have read the lines: + + "'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, + Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned'? + +"They were too truly exemplified in the case of Pluma Hurlhurst when +she found you preferred little golden-haired Daisy Brooks to her own +peerless self. 'What shall I do, Lester,' she cried, 'to strike his +heart? What shall I do to humble his mighty pride as he has humbled +mine?' Heaven knows, old boy, I am ashamed to admit the shameful +truth. I rather enjoyed the situation of affairs. 'My love is turned +to hate!' she cried, vehemently. 'I must strike him through his love +for that little pink-and-white baby-faced creature he is so madly +infatuated with. Remove her from his path, Lester,' she cried, 'and I +shall make it worth your while. You asked me once if I would marry +you. I answer _now_: remove that girl from his path, by fair means or +foul, and I give you my hand as the reward, I, the heiress of +Whitestone Hall.' + +"She knew the temptation was dazzling. For long hours we talked the +matter over. She was to furnish money to send the girl to school, from +which I was shortly to abduct her. She little cared what happened the +little fair-haired creature. Before I had time to carry out the design +fate drifted her into my hands. I rescued her, at the risk of my own +life, from a watery grave. I gave out she was my wife, that the affair +might reach your ears, and you would believe the child willfully +eloped with me. I swear to you no impure thought ever crossed that +child's brain. I gave her a very satisfactory explanation as to why I +had started so false a report. In her innocence--it seemed +plausible--she did not contradict my words. + +"Then you came upon the scene, charging her with the report and +demanding to know the truth. + +"At that moment she saw the affair in its true light. Heaven knows she +was as pure as a spotless lily; but appearances were sadly against the +child, simply because she had not contradicted the report that I had +circulated--that she was my wife. Her lips were dumb at the mere +suspicion you hurled against her, and she could not plead with you for +very horror and amazement. + +"When you left her she was stricken with a fever that was said to have +cost her her life. She disappeared from sight, and it was said she had +thrown herself into the pit. + +"I give you this last and final statement in all truth. I was haunted +day and night by her sad, pitiful face; it almost drove me mad with +remorse, and to ease my mind I had the shaft searched a week ago, and +learned the startling fact--it revealed no trace of her ever having +been there. + +"The shaft does not contain the remains of Daisy Brooks, and I +solemnly affirm (although I have no clew to substantiate the belief) +that Daisy Brooks is not dead, but living, and Pluma Hurlhurst's soul +is not dyed with the blood which she would not have hesitated to shed +to remove an innocent rival from her path. I do not hold myself +guiltless, still the planner of a crime is far more guilty than the +tool who does the work in hope of reward. + +"The heiress of Whitestone Hall has played me false, take to your +heart your fair, blushing bride, but remember hers is a perilous +love." + + * * * * * + +The letter contained much more, explaining each incident in detail, +but Rex had caught at one hope, as a drowning man catches at a straw. + +"Merciful Heaven!" he cried, his heart beating loud and fast. "Was it +not a cruel jest to frighten him on his wedding-eve? Daisy alive! Oh, +just Heaven, if it could only be true!" He drew his breath, with a +long, quivering sigh, at the bare possibility. "Little Daisy was as +pure in thought, word and deed as an angel. God pity me!" he cried. +"Have patience with me for my harshness toward my little love. I did +not give my little love even the chance of explaining the situation," +he groaned. Then his thoughts went back to Pluma. + +He could not doubt the truth of the statement Stanwick offered, and +the absolute proofs of its sincerity. He could not curse her for her +horrible deceit, because his mother had loved her so, and it was done +through her blinding, passionate love for him; and he buried his face +in his hands, and wept bitterly. It was all clear as noonday to him +now why Daisy had not kept the tryst under the magnolia-tree, and the +cottage was empty. She must certainly have attempted to make her +escape from the school in which they placed her to come back to his +arms. + +"Oh, dupe that I have been!" he moaned. "Oh, my sweet little innocent +darling!" he cried. "I dare not hope Heaven has spared you to me!" + +Now he understood why he had felt such a terrible aversion to Pluma +all along. She had separated him from his beautiful, golden-haired +child-bride. + +His eyes rested on the certificate which bore Pluma's name, also his +own. He tore it into a thousand shreds. + +"It is all over between us now," he cried. "Even if Daisy were dead, I +could never take the viper to my bosom that has dealt me such a +death-stinging blow. If living, I shall search the world over till I +find her; if dead, I shall consecrate my life to the memory of my +darling, my pure, little, injured _only_ love." + +He heard a low rap at the door. The servant never forgot the young +man's haggard, hopeless face as he delivered Basil Hurlhurst's +message. + +"Ah, it is better so," cried Rex to himself, vehemently, as the man +silently and wonderingly closed the door. "I will go to him at once, +and tell him I shall never marry his daughter. Heaven help me! I will +tell him all." + +Hastily catching up the letter, Rex walked, with a firm, quick tread, +toward the study, in which the strangest tragedy which was ever +enacted was about to transpire. + + * * * * * + +"I am your mother, Pluma," repeated the woman, slowly. "Look into my +face, and you will see every lineament of your own mirrored there. But +for me you would never have enjoyed the luxuries of Whitestone Hall, +and this is the way you repay me! Is there no natural instinct in your +heart that tells you you are standing in your mother's presence?" + +"Every instinct in my heart tells me you are a vile impostor, woman. I +wonder that you dare intimate such a thing. You are certainly an +escaped lunatic. My mother was lost at sea long years ago." + +"So every one believed. But my very presence here is proof positive +such was not the case." + +Pluma tried to speak, but no sound issued from her white lips. The +very tone of the woman's voice carried positive conviction with it. A +dim realization was stealing over her that this woman's face, and the +peculiar tone of her voice, were strangely mixed up with her childhood +dreams; and, try as she would to scoff at the idea, it seemed to be +gaining strength with every moment. + +"You do not believe me, I see," pursued the woman, calmly. "There is +nothing but the stern facts that will satisfy you. You shall have +them. They are soon told: Years ago, when I was young and fair as you +are now, I lived at the home of a quiet, well-to-do spinster, Taiza +Burt. She had a nephew, an honest, well-to-do young fellow, who +worshiped me, much to the chagrin of his aunt; and out of pique one +day I married him. I did not love the honest-hearted fellow, and I +lived with him but a few brief months. I hated him--yes, hated him, +for I had seen another--young, gay and handsome--whom I might have won +had it not been for the chains which bound me. He was a handsome, +debonair college fellow, as rich as he was handsome. This was Basil +Hurlhurst, the planter's only son and heir. Our meeting was romantic. +I had driven over to the village in which the college was situated, on +an errand for Taiza. Basil met me driving through the park. He was +young, reckless and impulsive. He loved me, and the knowledge of his +wealth dazzled me. I did not tell him I was a wife, and there +commenced my first sin. My extreme youth and ignorance of the world +must plead for me--my husband or the world would never know of it. I +listened to his pleading, and married him--that is, we went through +the ceremony. He had perfect faith in its sincerity. I alone knew the +guilty truth. Yet enormous as was my crime, I had but a dim +realization of it. + +"For one brief week I was dazzled with the wealth and jewels he +lavished upon me; but my conscience would not let me rest when I +thought of my honest-hearted husband, from whom I had fled and whom I +had so cruelly deceived. + +"My love for Basil was short lived; I was too reckless to care much +for any one. My conscience bade me fly from him. I gathered up what +money and jewels I could, and fled. A few months after you were born; +and I swear to you, by the proofs I can bring you, beyond all shadow +of a doubt, you were my lawful husband's child, not Basil's. + +"Soon after this event a daring thought came to me. I could present +you, ere long, with myself, at Whitestone Hall. Basil Hurlhurst would +never know the deception practiced upon him; and you, the child of +humble parentage, should enjoy and inherit his vast wealth. My bold +plan was successful. We had a stormy interview, and it never occurred +to him there could be the least deception--that I was not his lawful +wife, or you his child. + +"I found Basil had learned to despise even more fiercely than he had +ever loved me. + +"He took us abroad, refusing to speak or look upon my face, even +though he escorted us. In a fit of desperation I threw myself into the +sea, but I was rescued by another vessel. A strong inclination seized +me to again visit Whitestone Hall and see what disposition he had made +of you. Years had passed; you were then a child of five years. + +"One terrible stormy night--as bad a night as this one--I made my way +to the Hall. It was brilliantly lighted up, just as it is to-night. + +"I saw the gate was locked; and through the flashes of lightning I saw +a little girl sobbing wildly, flung face downward in the grass, +heedless of the storm. + +"I knew you, and called you to me. I questioned you as to why the +house was lighted, and learned the truth. Basil Hurlhurst had +remarried; he had been abroad with his wife, and to-night he was +bringing home his young wife. + +"My rage knew no bounds. I commanded you to bring me the key of the +gate. You obeyed. That night a little golden-haired child was born at +Whitestone Hall, and I knew it would live to divide the honors and +wealth of Whitestone Hall with you--my child. + +"The thought maddened me. I stole the child from its mother's arms, +and fled. I expected to see the papers full of the terrible deed, or +to hear you had betrayed me, a stranger, wanting the key of the +gate." + +"My surprise knew no bounds when I found it was given out the child +had died, and was buried with its young mother. I never understood why +Basil Hurlhurst did not attempt to recover his child. + +"I took the child far from here, placing it in a basket on the river +brink, with a note pinned to it saying that I, the mother, had sinned +and had sought a watery grave beneath the waves. I screened myself, +and watched to see what would become of the child, as I saw a man's +form approaching in the distance. + +"I fairly caught my breath as he drew near. I saw it was my own +husband, whom I had so cruelly deserted years ago--your father, Pluma, +who never even knew or dreamed of your existence. + +"Carefully he lifted the basket and the sleeping babe. How he came in +that locality I do not know. I found, by some strange freak of fate, +he had taken the child home to his aunt Taiza, and there the little +one remained until the spinster died. + +"Again, a few years later, I determined to visit Whitestone Hall, when +a startling and unexpected surprise presented itself. Since then I +have believed in fate. All unconscious of the strange manner in which +these two men's lives had crossed each other, I found Basil Hurlhurst +had engaged my own husband, and your father, John Brooks, for his +overseer." + +Pluma gave a terrible cry, but the woman did not heed her. + +"I dared not betray my identity then, but fled quickly from Whitestone +Hall; for I knew, if all came to light, it would be proved without a +doubt you were not the heiress of Whitestone Hall. + +"I saw a young girl, blue-eyed and golden-haired, singing like a lark +in the fields. One glance at her face, and I knew she was Basil +Hurlhurst's stolen child fate had brought directly to her father's +home. I questioned her, and she answered she had lived with Taiza +Burt, but her name was Daisy Brooks." + +"It is a lie--a base, ingenious lie!" shrieked Pluma. "Daisy Brooks +the heiress of Whitestone Hall! Even if it were true," she cried, +exultingly, "she will never reign here, the mistress of Whitestone +Hall. She is dead." + +"Not exactly!" cried a ringing voice from the rear; and before the two +women could comprehend the situation, the detective sprung through the +silken curtains, placing his back firmly against the door. "You have +laid a deep scheme, with a cruel vengeance; but your own weapons are +turned against you. Bring your daughter forward, Mr. Hurlhurst. Your +presence is also needed, Mr. Brooks," he called. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +Not a muscle of Pluma Hurlhurst's face quivered, but the woman uttered +a low cry, shrinking close to her side. + +"Save me, Pluma!" she gasped. "I did it for your sake!" + +Basil Hurlhurst slowly put back the curtain, and stepped into the +room, clasping his long-lost daughter to his breast. Daisy's arms were +clinging round his neck, and her golden head rested on his shoulder. +She was sobbing hysterically, John Brooks, deeply affected, following +after. + +Like a stag at bay, the woman's courage seemed to return to her, as +she stood face to face after all those years with the husband whom she +had so cruelly deceived--and the proud-faced man who stood beside +him--whose life she had blighted with the keenest and most cruel blow +of all. + +Basil Hurlhurst was the first to break the ominous silence. + +"It is unnecessary to tell you we have heard all," he said, slowly. "I +shall not seek redress for your double crime. Leave this locality at +once, or I may repent the leniency of my decision. I hold you +guiltless, Pluma," he added, gently. "You are not my child, yet I have +not been wanting in kindness toward you. I shall make every provision +for your future comfort with your father," he said, indicating John +Brooks, who stood pale and trembling at his side. + +"Pluma, my child," cried John Brooks, brokenly, extending his arms. + +But the scornful laugh that fell from her lips froze the blood in his +veins. + +"Your child!" she shrieked, mockingly; "do not dare call me that +again. What care I for your cotton fields, or for Whitestone Hall?" +she cried, proudly, drawing herself up to her full height. "You have +always hated me, Basil Hurlhurst," she cried, turning haughtily toward +him. "This is your triumph! Within the next hour I shall be Rex Lyon's +wife." + +She repeated the words with a clear, ringing laugh, her flaming eyes +fairly scorching poor little Daisy's pale, frightened face. + +"Do you hear me, Daisy Brooks!" she screamed. "You loved Rex Lyon, and +I have won him from you. You can queen it over Whitestone Hall, but I +shall not care. I shall be queen of Rex's heart and home! Mine is a +glorious revenge!" + +She stopped short for want of breath, and Basil Hurlhurst interrupted +her. + +"I have to inform you you are quite mistaken there," he replied, +calmly. "Mr. Rexford Lyon will not marry you to-night, for he is +already married to my little daughter Daisy." He produced the +certificate as he spoke, laying it on the table. "Rex thought her +dead," he continued, simply. "I have sent for him to break the +startling news of Daisy's presence, and I expect him here every +moment." + +"Pluma," cried Daisy, unclasping her arms from her father's neck, and +swiftly crossing over to where her rival stood, beautifully, proudly +defiant, "forgive me for the pain I have caused you unknowingly. I did +not dream I was--an--an--heiress--or that Mr. Hurlhurst was my father. +I don't want you to go away, Pluma, from the luxury that has been +yours; stay and be my sister--share my home." + +"My little tender-hearted angel!" cried Basil Hurlhurst, moved to +tears. + +John Brooks hid his face in his hands. + +For a single instant the eyes of these two girls met--whose lives had +crossed each other so strangely--Daisy's blue eyes soft, tender and +appealing, Pluma's hard, flashing, bitter and scornful. + +She drew herself up to her full height. + +"Remain in your house?" she cried, haughtily, trembling with rage. +"You mistake me, girl: do you think I could see you enjoying the home +that I have believed to be mine--see the man I love better than life +itself lavish caresses upon you--kiss your lips--and bear it calmly? +Live the life of a pauper when I have been led to believe I was an +heiress! Better had I never known wealth than be cast from luxury into +the slums of poverty," she wailed out, sharply. "I shall not touch a +dollar of your money, Basil Hurlhurst. I despise you too much. I have +lived with the trappings of wealth around me--the petted child of +luxury--all in vain--all in vain." + +Basil Hurlhurst was struck with the terrible grandeur of the picture +she made, standing there in her magnificent, scornful pride--a wealth +of jewels flashing on her throat and breast and twined in the long, +sweeping hair that had become loosened and swept in a dark, shining +mass to her slender waist, her flashing eyes far outshining the jewels +upon which the softened gas-light streamed. Not one gleam of remorse +softened her stony face in its cruel, wicked beauty. Her jeweled hand +suddenly crept to the pocket of her dress where she had placed the +vial. + +"Open that door!" she commanded. + +The key fell from her mother's nerveless grasp. The detective quietly +picked it up, placed it in the lock, and opened the door. And just at +that instant, Rex Lyon, with the letter in his hand, reached it. + +Pluma saw him first. + +"Rex!" she cried, in a low, hoarse voice, staggering toward him; but +he recoiled from her, and she saw Stanwick's letter in his hands; and +she knew in an instant all her treachery was revealed; and without +another word--pale as death--but with head proudly erect, she swept +with the dignity of a princess from the scene of her bitter defeat, +closely followed by her cowering mother. + +Rex did not seek to detain her; his eyes had suddenly fallen upon the +golden-haired little figure kneeling by Basil Hurlhurst's chair. + +He reached her side at a single bound. + +"Oh, Daisy, my darling, my darling!" he cried, snatching her in his +arms, and straining her to his breast, as he murmured passionate, +endearing words over her. + +Suddenly he turned to Mr. Hurlhurst. + +"I must explain--" + +"That is quite unnecessary, Rex, my boy," said Mr. Tudor, stepping +forward with tears in his eyes; "Mr. Hurlhurst knows all." + +It never occurred to handsome, impulsive Rex to question what Daisy +was doing there. He only knew Heaven had restored him his beautiful, +idolized child-bride. + +"You will forgive my harshness, won't you, love?" he pleaded. "I will +devote my whole life to blot out the past. Can you learn to love me, +sweetheart, and forget the cloud that drifted between us?" + +A rosy flush suffused the beautiful flower-like face, as Daisy shyly +lifted her radiantly love-lighted blue eyes to his face with a coy +glance that fairly took his breath away for rapturous ecstasy. + +Daisy's golden head nestled closer on his breast, and two little soft, +white arms, whose touch thrilled him through and through, stole round +his neck--that was all the answer she made him. + +John Brooks had quietly withdrawn from the room; and while Basil +Hurlhurst with a proudly glowing face went down among the waiting and +expectant guests to unfold to them the marvelous story, and explain +why the marriage could not take place, the detective briefly +acquainted Rex with the wonderful story. + +"I sought and won you when you were simple little Daisy Brooks, and +now that you are a wealthy heiress in your own right, you must not +love me less." + +Daisy glanced up into her handsome young husband's face as she +whispered, softly: + +"Nothing can ever change my love, Rex, unless it is to love you more +and more." + +And for answer Rex clasped the little fairy still closer in his arms, +kissing the rosy mouth over and over again, as he laughingly replied +he was more fortunate than most fellows, being lover and husband all +in one. + +The announcement created an intense _furor_ among the fluttering +maidens down in the spacious parlors. Nobody regretted Pluma's +downfall, although Basil Hurlhurst carefully kept that part of the +narrative back. + +"Oh, it is just like a romance," cried Eve Glenn, rapturously; "but +still we must not be disappointed, girls; we must have a wedding all +the same. Rex and Daisy must be married over again." + +Every one was on the tiptoe of expectancy to see the beautiful little +heroine of a double romance. + +Eve Glenn, followed by Birdie, found her out at once in the study. + +"Oh, you darling!" cried Eve, laughing and crying in one breath, as +she hugged and kissed Daisy rapturously; "and just to think you were +married all the time, and to Rex, too; above all other fellows in the +world, he was just the one I had picked out for you." + +Rex was loath to let Daisy leave him even for a moment. Eve was firm. + +"I shall take her to my room and convert her in no time at all into a +veritable Cinderella." + +"She is the pretty young girl that carried me from the stone wall, and +I have loved her so much ever since, even if I couldn't remember her +name," cried Birdie, clapping her hands in the greatest glee. + +In the din of the excitement, Pluma Hurlhurst shook the dust of +Whitestone Hall forever from her feet, muttering maledictions at the +happy occupants. She had taken good care to secure all the valuables +that she could lay her hands on, which were quite a fortune in +themselves, securing her from want for life. She was never heard from +more. + + * * * * * + +Eve Glenn took Daisy to her own room, and there the wonderful +transformation began. She dressed Daisy in her own white satin dress, +and twined deep crimson passion-roses in the golden curls, clapping +her hands--at Daisy's wondrous beauty--kissing her, and petting her by +turns. + +"There never was such a little fairy of a bride!" she cried, +exultantly leading Daisy to the mirror. "True, you haven't any +diamonds, and I haven't any to loan you; but who would miss such +trifles, gazing at such a bewitching, blushing face and eyes bright as +stars? Oh, won't every one envy Rex, though!" + +"Please don't, Eve," cried Daisy. "I'm so happy, and you are trying to +make me vain." + +A few moments later there was a great hush in the vast parlors below, +as Daisy entered the room, leaning tremblingly on Rex's arm, who +looked as happy as a king, and Basil Hurlhurst, looking fully ten +years younger than was his wont, walking proudly beside his long-lost +daughter. + +The storm had died away, and the moon broke through the dark clouds, +lighting the earth with a silvery radiance, as Rex and Daisy took +their places before the altar, where the ceremony which made them man +and wife was for the second time performed. + +Heaven's light never fell on two such supremely happy mortals as were +Rex and his bonny blushing bride. + +Outside of Whitestone Hall a motley throng was gathering with the +rapidity of lightning--the story had gone from lip to lip--the +wonderful story of the long-lost heiress and the double romance. + +Cheer after cheer rent the air, and telegraph wires were busy with the +startling revelations. + +The throng around the Hall pressed forward to catch a glimpse of the +pretty little bride. Young girls laughed and cried for very joy. +Mothers, fathers, and sweethearts fervently cried: "God bless her!" + +All night long the bells rang from the church belfries, bonfires were +lighted on all the surrounding hills. A telegram was sent to a +Baltimore marble firm countermanding a certain order. + +All night long the young people danced to the chime of merry music, +and all night long the joy-bells pealed from the turrets of Whitestone +Hall, and they seemed to echo the chorus of the people. "God bless +sweet little Daisy Lyon, the long-lost heiress of Whitestone Hall!" + +THE END + + + + +LAURA JEAN LIBBEY'S BOOKS + +BOUND IN CLOTH. + +If you like to read fascinating love stories we are sure you will want +to read this popular author's writings, and call your special attention +to the following list of her best books. + +THE ALPHABET OF LOVE.--A thrilling romance portraying the strange +adventures of a beautiful young girl. + +A BEAUTIFUL COQUETTE.--Sought by many but finally won by a strong, +masterful love. + +THE CRIME OF HALLOW E'EN.--Surrounded with the mysticism of that +occasion, relating the adventures of the Heiress of Graystone Hall. + +DAISY BROOKS.--The story of a perilous love. + +DAISY GORDON'S FOLLY.--The world lost for love's sake. Concealment of +her love affairs wrought great havoc. + +DORA MILLER.--"There's nothing half so sweet in life as love's young +dream." + +FLIRTATIONS OF A BEAUTY.--A fascinating story of a lovely belle's summer +romance at Newport. + +A FORBIDDEN MARRIAGE.--And what followed a mother's statement to her +daughter's lover: "I would rather see my daughter dead than give her to +you." + +GILBERTA THE BEAUTY.--A romance of a girls' fashionable boarding-school. + +HE LOVED, BUT WAS LURED AWAY.--In love and war the _occasion_ is +everything, but when true love enters the heart it conquers. + +JUNIE'S LOVE TEST.--Sorely tried and deceived by circumstances, even to +the extent of divorce proceedings, intense and whole-hearted love is +finally rewarded. + +LITTLE LEAFY.--The cloakmaker's beautiful daughter. A romantic story of +a lovely working girl in the City of New York. + +LITTLE ROSEBUD'S LOVERS.--A South Carolina story of a cruel revenge. + +The above books contain 200 to 300 pages each, printed on best grade +antique wove book paper, with beautiful lithograph inlay in 10 colors, +and will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price 50 cents, or +any 3 books for $1.00. Ask your dealer for them, or send your order +direct to us. + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +57 Rose Street, New York. + + + + +LAURA JEAN LIBBEY'S BOOKS + +BOUND IN CLOTH + +If you like to read fascinating love stories we are sure you will want +to read this popular author's writings, and call your special attention +to the following list of her best books. + +LITTLE ROMP EDDA.--A story of the great World's Fair at Chicago, and +what befell a mischievous maid. + +LYNDALL'S TEMPTATION; Or, Blinded by Love.--A story of fashionable +life at Lenox. To Love and Be Loved is the Grand Dream of Life.--The +Hand of Fate.--What Might Have Been.--I Must Forget You, Dear.--The +Tragedy.--Who is Guilty? Do You Regret the Past? + +A MASTER WORKMAN'S OATH; Or, Coralie the Unfortunate.--A love story +portraying the life, romance and strange fate of a beautiful New York +working girl. Love at First Sight.--A Marriage In Haste.--To Learn to +Forget Will Be Bitter.--The Abduction.--Fate Marks Her Destiny.--The +Rival Lovers. + +MISS MIDDLETON'S LOVER; Or, Parted on Her Bridal Tour. A story of +London. The Banker's Niece.--It Would Have Been Better Had She +Died.--A Convict's Bride.--Fate Settles the Matter.--The Serpent +Enters the Garden of Eden.--The Price of My Lady's Secret.--A Great +Temptation.--I Would Not Forgive Her.--Without Love the World is a +Desert. + +PRETTY FREDA'S LOVERS; Or, Married by Mistake.--A thrilling romance of +a beautiful young school girl. The Spoiled Darling.--Mad Folly.--My +Promised Bride.--Freda's Fate.--The Quarrel.--The Smoke of +Scandal.--The Elopement.--Forgotten.--Humbled.--Freda's Test and +Flight.--Learned to Love Me at Last. + +WHEN HIS LOVE GREW COLD.--A love story full of trials and struggles of +lover and loved one. + +WILLFUL GAYNELL.--A romantic story of the life and love of a lovely +working girl. A Rescue.--The Grand Ball.--The Duel.--The Heiress.--An +Abduction.--Defiance.--A Thrilling Adventure.--Vengeance.--Temptation.-- +Gay Decides Her Fate.--The Rivals Meet.--Would You Break Our Betrothal?-- +Gay Found at Last. + +The above books contain 200 to 300 pages each, printed on best grade +antique wove book paper, with beautiful lithograph inlay in 10 colors, +and will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price 50 cents, or +any 3 books for $1.00. Ask your dealer for them, or send your order +direct to us. + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +57 Rose Street, New York. + + + + +THE BIG NOISE! THE LOUD SCREAM! THE TALL HOLLER! + +You Will Laugh, You Will Yell, You Will Scream at + +THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN, + +The World's Champion Funny Book. + +READ IT! READ IT! READ IT! + +It eradicates wrinkles, banishes care, and by its laughter-compelling +mirth and irresistible humor rejuvenates the whole body. Whether you +are a bashful man or not, you should read + +THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN. + +In this screamingly funny volume the reader follows with rapt +attention and hilarious delight, the mishaps, mortifications, +confusions, and agonizing mental and physical distresses of a +self-conscious, hypersensitive, appallingly bashful young man, in a +succession of astounding accidents, and ludicrous predicaments, that +convulse the reader with cyclonic laughter, causing him to hold both +sides for fear of exploding from an excess of uproarious merriment. + +All records beaten as a fun-maker, rib-tickler, and laugh-provoker. +This marvellous volume of merriment proves melancholy an impostor, and +grim care a joke. With joyous gales of mirth it dissipates gloom and +banishes trouble. + +YOU WANT IT! YOU CANNOT DO WITHOUT IT! + +Better Than Drugs! Better Than Vaudeville! + +A WHOLE CIRCUS IN ITSELF! + +The Time, the Place, the Opportunity is Here! + +BUY IT NOW! + +THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN contains 170 solid pages of reading +matter, illustrated, is bound in heavy lithographed paper covers, and +will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of price, 25 +cents. Address orders to + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +P.O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. + + + + +THE MODEL LETTER WRITER. + +A comprehensive and complete guide and assistant for those who wish to +become perfect correspondents. This book contains Sample Letters of +Compliment, Inquiry, and Congratulation; Letters of Recommendation, +Letters of Business, Advice and Excuse, and gives Rules for +Punctuation, Postscripts, and Styles of Addressing, etc. + +It also contains love letters, giving the correspondence between a +young man and a young lady, on love, courtship and marriage, and +should prove indispensable to all young people. + +You cannot afford to be without this book, as you do not know at what +time you may have to write a particularly important letter. If you +have a book of this kind on hand to consult, it may be the means of +bringing to a successful end matters of great moment, and upon which +may depend your entire future happiness, well-being, and success in +life. + +The book contains 128 pages, is bound in paper covers with handsome +illustration in two colors, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any +address upon receipt of 25 cents in U.S. stamps or postal money order. +Address all orders to + +J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +P.O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. + + + + +LAUGH! YELL! SCREAM! + +Read It! Read It! Read It! + +A BAD BOY'S DIARY + +By "LITTLE GEORGIE," + +The Laughing Cyclone. + +THE FUNNIEST BOOK EVER WRITTEN! + +In this matchless volume of irresistible, rib-tickling fun, the Bad +Boy, an incarnate but lovable imp of mischief, records his daily +exploits, experiences, pranks and adventures, through all of which you +follow him with an absorbing interest that never flags, stopping only +when convulsions of laughter and aching sides force the mirth-swept +body to take an involuntary respite from a feast of fun, stupendous +and overwhelming. + +In the pages of this excruciatingly funny narrative can be found the +elixir of youth for all man and womankind. The magic of its pages +compel the old to become young, the care-worn gay, and carking trouble +hides its gloomy head and flies away on the blithesome wings of +uncontrollable laughter. + +IT MAKES YOU A BOY AGAIN! + +IT MAKES LIFE WORTH WHILE! + +For old or young it is a tonic and sure cure for the blues. The BAD +BOY'S DIARY is making the whole world scream with laughter. Get in +line and laugh too. BUY IT TO-DAY! It contains 276 solid pages of +reading matter, illustrated, is bound in lithographed paper covers, +and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of +price, 25 cents. Address all orders to + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +P.O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. + + + + +THE HOUSEWIFE'S TREASURE! + +THE HOME-KEEPER'S DELIGHT! + +PEERLESS! UNEQUALLED! + +THE EVERYDAY COOK BOOK + +saves money, saves labor. Makes cooking pleasurable, easy and +delightful. Without previous experience or instruction, by the aid of +this magic volume, the busy housewife can quickly learn to make +hundreds of savory, appetizing, nourishing dishes, plain or fancy, +dainty or substantial. + +Easy! Practical! Economical! Concise! + +THE EVERYDAY COOK BOOK + +is the Aladdin's lamp that converts the kitchen into fairy land, and +the stove, oven and range into magic producers of appetizing and +delicious edibles. + +TWO THOUSAND FAVORITE RECIPES + +for cooking every known variety of food. Dishes that tickle the +palate, satisfy the appetite, aid digestion, promote health and +prolong life. The magic portal to a world of toothsome delights. + +IT TELLS YOU HOW! IT SHOWS YOU HOW! + +Makes Poor Cooks Good Cooks! + +Converts Drudgery into Pleasure, Toil into Delight! + +It Tells You What to Eat! When to Eat! How to Eat! + +What to Buy! When to Buy! How to Buy! + +Every recipe has been thoroughly tried and tested, and pronounced by +numerous housewives to be _par excellence_, not only as to pleasant +results, but also in regard to the _small cost_ involved. Also +contains scores of immensely valuable household hints and information +on every subject of interest to the cook, housewife and home-keeper. + +A Cook Book and Home Encyclopedia All in One! + +Invaluable for the Kitchen! Unequalled for the Home! + +You Want it! You Cannot do Without It! Buy It Now! + +The book contains 200 pages, size 7x5 inches, is bound in heavy paper +cover, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of only 25 +cents in stamps or silver. + +J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +P.O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK + + + + +TWO HUNDRED OLD-TIME SONGS. + +This volume contains the _words and music_ of choicest gems of +the old and familiar songs we used to sing when we were young. It has +been arranged with great care and we have no hesitation in saying that +it is the best book of the kind published. Read the following +Partial Table of Contents. The book contains 130 songs besides +the ones mentioned here and would cost $50 in sheet music form. + + Annie Laurie. + Auld Lang Syne. + Angel's Whisper, The. + Black Eyed Susan. + Billy Boy. + Baby Mine. + Bell Brandon. + Bonnie Dundee. + Ben Bolt. + Bingen on the Rhine. + Comrades. + Comin' Thro' the Rye. + Caller Herrin'. + Do They Miss Me at Home? + Don't You Go, Tommy. + Flee as a Bird. + In the Gloaming. + John Anderson, My Joe. + Katie's Letter. + Little Annie Rooney. + Larboard Watch. + Life on the Ocean Wave, A. + Low Backed Car, The. + Mollie, Put the Kettle On. + Meet Me by Moonlight. + Nancy Lee. + O, Boys Carry Me 'Long. + Oh! Susannah. + Our Flag is There. + O Had I Wings Like a Dove. + Old Oaken Bucket, The. + O Come, Come Away. + Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep. + Rock Me to Sleep, Mother. + Sparkling and Bright. + There was an Old Woman. + 'Tis the Last Rose of Summer. + Willie, We Have Missed You. + Wait for the Wagon. + Oh Dear! What Can the Matter be. + Oh Why do you Tease Me. + Oh, Would I Were a Bird. + Oh, Would I Were a Boy Again. + Over the Garden Wall. + Pilgrim Fathers, The. + Pat Malloy. + Pauper's Drive, The. + Paddle Your Own Canoe. + Robin Adair. + Robinson Crusoe. + Rose of Allandale. + Star Spangled Banner, The. + Saint Patrick Was a Gentleman. + See Saw, Margery Daw. + Sing a Song of Sixpence. + See, the Conquering Hero Comes. + Stop Dat Knockin'. + Sally in Our Alley. + Scots, What Ha'e Wi' Wallace Bled. + Sword of Bunker Hill, The. + Spider and the Fly, The. + Shells of Ocean. + Steal Away. + Take Back the Heart. + Three Fishers Went Sailing. + Ten Little Niggers. + 'Tis the Last Rose of Summer. + Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-De-Ay. + Thou Art Gone From My Gaze. + There is a Green Hill far Away. + There was a Jolly Miller. + +This book of 176 pages containing the above entire list of songs and +many others, _words and music_, will be sent by mail postpaid upon +receipt of price. Paper Cover, 25 cents. Address all orders to + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING CO., 57 Rose Street, New York. + + + + +OLD WITCHES' DREAM BOOK + +AND + +COMPLETE FORTUNE TELLER. + +You dream like everyone else does, but can you interpret them--do you +understand what your dream portends? If you wish to know what it +means, you should buy this book, which contains the full and correct +interpretation of all dreams and their lucky numbers. This book is +also the most complete fortune teller on the market. + +We give herewith a partial list of the contents: + + Dreams and Their Interpretations. + + Palmistry, or Telling Fortunes by the Lines of the Hand. + + Fortune Telling by the Grounds in a Tea or Coffee Cup. + + How to Read Your Fortune by the White of an Egg. + + How to Determine the Lucky and Unlucky Days of any Month in the Year. + + How to Ascertain Whether You will Marry Soon. + + Fortune Telling by Cards, Including the Italian Method. + +The book contains 128 pages, set in new, large, clear type, and will +be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address upon receipt of 25 cents in +U. S. stamps or postal money order. Address all orders to + +J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +P.O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30137 *** diff --git a/30137-h/30137-h.htm b/30137-h/30137-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aea2237 --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-h/30137-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9211 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Daisy Brooks, by Laura Jean Libbey</title> +<style type="text/css"> + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; text-indent: 0; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + + blockquote {display: block; margin: .75em 5%; font-size: 90%;} + h1 {font-size:1.6em;} + h1,h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h1.pg {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; font-size: 190%; } + h2 {font-size:1.2em;} + h3 {text-align:center; } + hr.p30 {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 30%;} + p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center;} + + .chsp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .smcaplc {text-transform: lowercase; font-variant: small-caps;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + hr.tb {border: none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 33%; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;} + hr.toprule {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + p.cg {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-align: left; width: 101%;} + p.ralign {text-align: right !important;} + span.rindent2 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 0.8em; display: block; float: right;} + span.rindent4 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 1.6em; display: block; float: right;} + span.rindent8 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 3.2em; display: block; float: right;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30137 ***</div> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Daisy Brooks, by Laura Jean Libbey</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div style='margin:10px auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='cover' src='images/daisy-cvr.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;font-size:2.6em;margin-top:20px;font-variant:small-caps;'>Daisy Brooks;</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;'>OR,</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-bottom:40px;'>A PERILOUS LOVE.</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;'>BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-bottom:20px;'>LAURA JEAN LIBBEY,</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:10px;font-size:smaller;'>AUTHOR OF</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;'>“Parted on Her Bridal Tour,” or “Miss Middleton’s Lover,”<br /> +“When His Love Grew Cold,” “He Loved, But Was<br /> +Lured Away,” “When Lovely Maiden Stoops<br /> +to Folly,” “The Crime of Hallow E’en,”<br /> +“Lovers Once, But Strangers<br /> +Now,” Etc., Etc.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class='tp' ><span class='smcap'>Copyright</span> 1883, <span class='smcap'>by George Munro</span>.</p> +<hr class='p30' /> +<p class='tp' ><span class='smcap'>Copyright</span> 1911, <span class='smcap'>by<br /> +J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company</span>.</p> +<hr class='p30' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;'>Dramatic Rights Reserved by<br /> +<span class='smcap'>Laura Jean Libbey-Stillwell</span>.</p> +<p class='tp' ><span class='smcap'>New York</span>:</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:larger;'>J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;'>57 <span class='smcap'>Rose Street</span>.</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span></div> +<h1>DAISY BROOKS.</h1> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I' id='CHAPTER_I'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> +</div> +<p>A warm day in the southern part of West Virginia was fast +drawing to a close; the heat during the day had been almost +intolerable under the rays of the piercing sun, and the night +was coming on in sullen sultriness. No breath of cooling air +stirred the leafy branches of the trees; the stillness was broken +only by the chirping of the crickets, and the fire-flies twinkled +for a moment, and were then lost to sight in the long grasses.</p> +<p>On one of the most prosperous plantations in that section of +the country there was a great stir of excitement; the master, +Basil Hurlhurst, was momentarily expected home with his +bride. The negroes in their best attire were scattered in anxious +groups here and there, watching eagerly for the first approach +of their master’s carriage on the white pebbled road.</p> +<p>The curtains of Whitestone Hall were looped back, and a +cheerful flood of light shone out on the waving cotton fields +that stretched out as far as the eye could reach, like a field of +snow. The last touches had been given to the pillars of roses +that filled every available nook and corner, making the summer +air redolent with their odorous perfumes. Mrs. Corliss, +who had maintained the position of housekeeper for a score of +years or more, stood at the window twisting the telegram she +held in her hand with ill-concealed impatience. The announcement +of this home-coming had been as unexpected as the news +of his marriage had been quite a year before.</p> +<p>“Let there be no guests assembled––my reasons will be +made apparent to you later on,” so read the telegram, which +puzzled the housekeeper more than she cared to admit to the +inquisitive maid, who stood near her, curiously watching her +thoughtful face.</p> +<p>“’Pears to me it will rain afore they get here, Hagar,” she +said, nervously, and, as if in confirmation of her words, a few +rain-drops splashed against the window-pane.</p> +<p>Both stood gazing intently out into the darkness. The +storm had now commenced in earnest. The great trees bent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +to and fro like reeds before the wind; the lightning flashed, +and the terrific crash of roaring thunder mingled with the +torrent of rain that beat furiously against the casement. It +seemed as if the very flood-gates of heaven were flung open +wide on this memorable night of the master’s return.</p> +<p>“It is a fearful night. Ah! happy is the bride upon whose +home-coming the sunlight falls,” muttered Mrs. Corliss under +her breath.</p> +<p>Hagar had caught the low-spoken words, and in a voice that +sounded strange and weird like a warning, she answered:</p> +<p>“Yes, and unhappy is the bride upon whose home-coming +rain-drops fall.”</p> +<p>How little they knew, as they stood there, of the terrible +tragedy––the cruelest ever enacted––those grim, silent walls of +Whitestone Hall were soon to witness, in fulfillment of the +strange prophecy. Hagar, the maid, had scarcely ceased +speaking ere the door was flung violently open, and a child of +some five summers rushed into the room, her face livid with +passion, and her dark, gleaming eyes shining like baneful +stars, before which the two women involuntarily quailed.</p> +<p>“What is this I hear?” she cried, with wild energy, glancing +fiercely from the one to the other. “Is it true what they +tell me––my father is bringing home his bride?”</p> +<p>“Pluma, my child,” remonstrated Mrs. Corliss, feebly, +“I––”</p> +<p>“Don’t Pluma me!” retorted the child, clutching the deep +crimson passion-roses from a vase at her side, and trampling +them ruthlessly beneath her feet. “Answer me at once, I +say––has he <i>dared</i> do it?”</p> +<p>“P-l-u-m-a!” Mrs. Corliss advances toward her, but the +child turns her darkly beautiful, willful face toward her with +an imperious gesture.</p> +<p>“Do not come a step nearer,” cried the child, bitterly, “or +I shall fling myself from the window down on to the rocks +below. I shall never welcome my father’s wife here; and +mark me, both of you, I hate her!” she cried, vehemently. +“She shall rue the day that she was born!”</p> +<p>Mrs. Corliss knew but too well the child would keep her word. +No power, save God, could stay the turbulent current of the +ungovernable self-will which would drag her on to her doom. +No human being could hold in subjection the fierce, untamed +will of the beautiful, youthful tyrant.</p> +<p>There had been strange rumors of the unhappiness of Basil +Hurlhurst’s former marriage. No one remembered having +seen her but once, quite five years before. A beautiful woman +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +with a little babe had suddenly appeared at Whitestone Hall, +announcing herself as Basil Hurlhurst’s wife. There had been +a fierce, stormy interview, and on that very night Basil Hurlhurst +took his wife and child abroad; those who had once seen +the dark, glorious, scornful beauty of the woman’s face never +forgot it. Two years later the master had returned alone with +the little child, heavily draped in widower’s weeds.</p> +<p>The master of Whitestone Hall was young; those who knew +his story were not surprised that he should marry––he could +not go through life alone; still they felt a nameless pity for +the young wife who was to be brought to the home in which +dwelt the child of his former wife.</p> +<p>There would be bitter war to the end between them. No +one could tell on which side the scales of mercy and justice +would be balanced.</p> +<p>At that instant, through the raging of the fierce elements, +the sound of carriage wheels smote upon their ears as the +vehicle dashed rapidly up the long avenue to the porch; +while, in another instant, the young master, half carrying +the slight, delicate figure that clung timidly to his arm, hurriedly +entered the spacious parlor. There was a short consultation +with the housekeeper, and Basil Hurlhurst, tenderly +lifting the slight burden in his strong, powerful arms, quickly +bore his wife to the beautiful apartments that had been prepared +for her.</p> +<p>In the excitement of the moment Pluma was quite forgotten; +for an instant only she glanced bitterly at the sweet, +fair face resting against her father’s shoulder, framed in a +mass of golden hair. The child clinched her small hands until +she almost cried aloud with the intense pain, never once deigning +a glance at her father’s face. In that one instant the evil +seeds of a lifetime were sown strong as life and more bitter +than death.</p> +<p>Turning hastily aside she sprung hurriedly down the long +corridor, and out into the darkness and the storm, never +stopping to gain breath until she had quite reached the +huge ponderous gate that shut in the garden from the dense +thicket that skirted the southern portion of the plantation. +She laughed a hard, mocking laugh that sounded unnatural +from such childish lips, as she saw a white hand hurriedly +loop back the silken curtains of her father’s window, and saw +him bend tenderly over the golden-haired figure in the arm-chair. +Suddenly the sound of her own name fell upon her ear.</p> +<p>“Pluma,” whispered a low, cautious voice; and in the quick +flashes of lightning she saw a white, haggard woman’s face +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +pressed close against the grating, and two white hands were +steadily forcing the rusty lock. There was no fear in the +fiery, rebellious heart of the dauntless child.</p> +<p>“Go away, you miserable beggar-woman,” she cried, “or +I shall set the hounds on you at once. Do you hear me, I +say?”</p> +<p>“Who are you?” questioned the woman, in the same low, +guarded voice.</p> +<p>The child threw her head back proudly, her voice rising +shrilly above the wild warring of the elements, as she answered:</p> +<p>“Know, then, I am Pluma, the heiress of Whitestone Hall.”</p> +<p>The child formed a strange picture––her dark, wild face, so +strangely like the mysterious woman’s own, standing vividly +out against the crimson lightning flashes, her dark curls blown +about the gypsy-like face, the red lips curling scornfully, her +dark eyes gleaming.</p> +<p>“Pluma,” called the woman, softly, “come here.”</p> +<p>“How dare <i>you</i>, a beggar-woman, call me!” cried the child, +furiously.</p> +<p>“Pluma––come––here––instantly!”</p> +<p>There was a subtle something in the stranger’s voice that +throbbed through the child’s pulses like leaping fire––a +strange, mysterious influence that bound her, heart and soul, +like the mesmeric influence a serpent exerts over a fascinated +dove. Slowly, hesitatingly, this child, whose fiery will had +never bowed before human power, came timidly forward, step +by step, close to the iron gate against which the woman’s face +was pressed. She stretched out her hand, and it rested for a +moment on the child’s dark curls.</p> +<p>“Pluma, the gate is locked,” she said. “Do you know +where the keys are?”</p> +<p>“No,” answered the child.</p> +<p>“They used to hang behind the pantry door––a great bunch +of them. Don’t they hang there now?”</p> +<p>“Ye––es.”</p> +<p>“I thought so,” muttered the woman, triumphantly. +“Now, listen, Pluma; I want you to do exactly as I bid you. +I want you to go quickly and quietly, and bring me the longest +and thinnest one. You are not to breathe one word of this to +any living soul. Do you understand, Pluma––I command you +to do it.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered the child, dubiously.</p> +<p>“Stay!” she called, as the child was about to turn from +her. “Why is the house lighted up to-night?”</p> +<p>Again the reckless spirit of the child flashed forth.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></div> +<p>“My father has brought home his bride,” she said. “Don’t +you see him bending over her, toward the third window yonder?”</p> +<p>The woman’s eyes quickly followed in the direction indicated.</p> +<p>Was it a curse the woman muttered as she watched the fair, +golden-haired young girl-wife’s head resting against Basil +Hurlhurst’s breast, his arms clasped lovingly about her?</p> +<p>“Go, Pluma!” she commanded, bitterly.</p> +<p>Quickly and cautiously the child sped on her fatal errand +through the storm and the darkness. A moment later she +had returned with the key which was to unlock a world of +misery to so many lives.</p> +<p>“Promise me, Pluma, heiress of Whitestone Hall, never to +tell what you have done or seen or heard to-night. You must +never dare breathe it while you live. Say you will never tell, +Pluma.”</p> +<p>“No,” cried the child, “I shall never tell. They might +kill me, but I would never tell them.”</p> +<p>The next moment she was alone. Stunned and bewildered, +she turned her face slowly toward the house. The storm did +not abate in its fury; night-birds flapped their wings through +the storm overhead; owls shrieked in the distance from the +swaying tree-tops; yet the child walked slowly home, knowing +no fear. In the house lights were moving to and fro, while +servants, with bated breath and light footfalls, hurried through +the long corridors toward her father’s room. No one seemed +to notice Pluma, in her dripping robe, creeping slowly along +by their side toward her own little chamber.</p> +<p>It was quite midnight when her father sent for her. Pluma +suffered him to kiss her, giving back no answering caress.</p> +<p>“I have brought some one else to you, my darling,” he +said. “See, Pluma––a new mamma! And see who else––a +wee, dimpled little sister, with golden hair like mamma’s, +and great blue eyes. Little Evalia is your sister, dear. +Pluma must love her new mamma and sister for papa’s sake.”</p> +<p>The dark frown on the child’s face never relaxed, and, with +an impatient gesture, her father ordered her taken at once +from the room.</p> +<p>Suddenly the great bells of Whitestone Hall ceased pealing +for the joyous birth of Basil Hurlhurst’s daughter, and bitter +cries of a strong man in mortal anguish rent the air. No one +had noticed how or when the sweet, golden-haired young wife +had died. With a smile on her lips, she was dead, with her +tiny little darling pressed close to her pulseless heart.</p> +<p>But sorrow even as pitiful as death but rarely travels singly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +Dear Heaven! how could they tell the broken-hearted man, +who wept in such agony beside the wife he had loved so well, +of another mighty sorrow that had fallen upon him? Who +was there that could break the news to him? The tiny, fair-haired +infant had been stolen from their midst. They would +have thanked God if it had been lying cold in death upon its +mother’s bosom.</p> +<p>Slowly throughout the long night––that terrible night that +was never to be forgotten––the solemn bells pealed forth from +the turrets of Whitestone Hall, echoing in their sound: “Unhappy +is the bride the rain falls on.” Most truly had been +the fulfillment of the fearful prophecy!</p> +<p>“Merciful God!” cried Mrs. Corliss, “how shall I break +the news to my master? The sweet little babe is gone!”</p> +<p>For answer Hagar bent quickly over her, and breathed a +few words in her ear that caused her to cry out in horror and +amaze.</p> +<p>“No one will ever know,” whispered Hagar; “it is the +wisest course. The truth will lie buried in our own hearts, +and die with us.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Six weeks from the night his golden-haired wife had died +Basil Hurlhurst awoke to consciousness from the ravages of +brain-fever––awoke to a life not worth the living. Quickly +Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was sent for, who soon entered +the room, leaning upon Hagar’s arm.</p> +<p>“My wife is––” He could not say more.</p> +<p>“Buried, sir, beneath yonder willow.”</p> +<p>“And the babe?” he cried, eagerly. “Dead,” answered +Hagar, softly. “Both are buried in one grave.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst turned his face to the wall, with a bitter +groan.</p> +<p>Heaven forgive them––the seeds of the bitterest of tragedies +were irrevocably sown.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_II' id='CHAPTER_II'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> +</div> +<p>One bright May morning some sixteen years later, the +golden sunshine was just putting forth its first crimson rays, +lighting up the ivy-grown turrets of Whitestone Hall, and +shining upon a little white cottage nestling in a bower of green +leaves far to the right of it, where dwelt John Brooks, the +overseer of the Hurlhurst plantation.</p> +<p>For sixteen years the grand old house had remained closed––the +plantation being placed in charge of a careful overseer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +Once again Whitestone Hall was thrown open to welcome the +master, Basil Hurlhurst, who had returned from abroad, +bringing with him his beautiful daughter and a party of +friends.</p> +<p>The interior of the little cottage was astir with bustling +activity.</p> +<p>It was five o’clock; the chimes had played the hour; the +laborers were going to the fields, and the dairy-maids were +beginning their work.</p> +<p>In the door-way of the cottage stood a tall, angular woman, +shading her flushed and heated face from the sun’s rays with +her hand.</p> +<p>“Daisy, Daisy!” she calls, in a harsh, rasping voice, +“where are you, you good-for-nothing lazy girl? Come +into the house directly, I say.” Her voice died away +over the white stretches of waving cotton, but no Daisy came. +“Here’s a pretty go,” she cried, turning into the room where +her brother sat calmly finishing his morning meal, “a pretty +go, indeed! I promised Miss Pluma those white mulls should +be sent over to her the first thing in the morning. She will be +in a towering rage, and no wonder, and like enough you’ll +lose your place, John Brooks, and ’twill serve you right, too, +for encouraging that lazy girl in her idleness.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be too hard on little Daisy, Septima,” answered +John Brooks, timidly, reaching for his hat. “She will have +the dresses at the Hall in good time, I’ll warrant.”</p> +<p>“Too hard, indeed; that’s just like you men; no feeling for +your poor, overworked sister, so long as that girl has an easy +life of it. It was a sorry day for <i>me</i> when your aunt Taiza +died, leaving this girl to our care.”</p> +<p>A deep flush mantled John Brooks’ face, but he made no +retort, while Septima energetically piled the white fluted laces +in the huge basket––piled it full to the brim, until her arm +ached with the weight of it––the basket which was to play such +a fatal part in the truant Daisy’s life––the life which for sixteen +short years had been so monotonous.</p> +<p>Over the corn-fields half hid by the clover came a young girl +tripping lightly along. John Brooks paused in the path as he +caught sight of her. “Poor, innocent little Daisy!” he muttered +half under his breath, as he gazed at her quite unseen.</p> +<p>Transferred to canvas, it would have immortalized a painter. +No wonder the man’s heart softened as he gazed. He saw a +glitter of golden curls, and the scarlet gleam of a mantle––a +young girl, tall and slender, with rounded, supple limbs, and +a figure graceful in every line and curve––while her arms, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +bare to the elbow, would have charmed a sculptor. Cheek +and lips were a glowing rosy red––while her eyes, of the deepest +and darkest blue, were the merriest that ever gazed up to +the summer sunshine.</p> +<p>Suddenly from over the trees there came the sound of the +great bell at the Hall. Daisy stood quite still in alarm.</p> +<p>“It is five o’clock!” she cried. “What shall I do? Aunt +Septima will be so angry with me; she promised Miss Pluma +her white dresses should be at the Hall by five, and it is that +already.”</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy! no wonder her heart throbbed painfully +and the look of fear deepened in her blue eyes as she sped +rapidly up the path that led to the little cottage where Septima +grimly awaited her with flushed face and flashing eyes.</p> +<p>“So,” she said, harshly, “you are come at last, are you? +and a pretty fright you have given me. You shall answer to +Miss Pluma <i>herself</i> for this. I dare say you will never attempt +to offend her a second time.”</p> +<p>“Indeed, Aunt Septima, I never dreamed it was so late,” +cried conscious Daisy. “I was watching the sun rise over the +cotton-fields, and watching the dewdrops glittering on the +corn, thinking of the beautiful heiress of Whitestone Hall. I +am so sorry I forgot about the dresses.”</p> +<p>Hastily catching up the heavy basket, she hurried quickly +down the path, like a startled deer, to escape the volley of +wrath the indignant spinster hurled after her.</p> +<p>It was a beautiful morning; no cloud was in the smiling +heavens; the sun shone brightly, and the great oak and cedar-trees +that skirted the roadside seemed to thrill with the song +of birds. Butterflies spread their light wings and coquetted +with the fragrant blossoms, and busy humming-bees buried +themselves in the heart of the crimson wild rose. The basket +was very heavy, and poor little Daisy’s hands ached with the +weight of it.</p> +<p>“If I might but rest for a few moments only,” she said to +herself, eying the cool, shady grass by the roadside. “Surely +a moment or two will not matter. Oh, dear, I am so tired!”</p> +<p>She set the basket down on the cool, green grass, flinging +herself beside it beneath the grateful shade of a blossoming +magnolia-tree, resting her golden head against the basket of +filmy laces that were to adorn the beautiful heiress of whom +she had heard so much, yet never seen, and of whom every +one felt in such awe.</p> +<p>She looked wistfully at the great mansion in the distance, +thinking how differently her own life had been.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></div> +<p>The soft, wooing breeze fanned her cheeks, tossing about +her golden curls in wanton sport. It was so pleasant to sit +there in the dreamy silence watching the white fleecy clouds, +the birds, and the flowers, it was little wonder the swift-winged +moments flew heedlessly by. Slowly the white lids +drooped over the light-blue eyes, the long, golden lashes lay +against the rosy cheeks, the ripe lips parted in a smile––all +unheeded were the fluted laces––Daisy slept. Oh, cruel breeze––oh, +fatal wooing breeze to have infolded hapless Daisy in +your soft embrace!</p> +<p>Over the hills came the sound of baying hounds, followed +by a quick, springy step through the crackling underbrush, +as a young man in close-fitting velvet hunting-suit and jaunty +velvet cap emerged from the thicket toward the main road.</p> +<p>As he parted the magnolia branches the hound sprang +quickly forward at some object beneath the tree, with a low, +hoarse growl.</p> +<p>“Down, Towser, down!” cried Rex Lyon, leaping lightly +over some intervening brushwood. “What kind of game have +we here? Whew!” he ejaculated, surprisedly; “a young girl, +pretty as a picture, and, by the eternal, fast asleep, too!”</p> +<p>Still Daisy slept on, utterly unconscious of the handsome +brown eyes that were regarding her so admiringly.</p> +<p>“I have often heard of fairies, but this is the first time I +have ever caught one napping under the trees. I wonder who +she is anyhow? Surely she can not be some drudging farmer’s +daughter with a form and face like that?” he mused, suspiciously +eying the basket of freshly laundered laces against +which the flushed cheeks and waving golden hair rested.</p> +<p>Just then his ludicrous position struck him forcibly.</p> +<p>“Come, Towser,” he said, “it would never do for you and +me to be caught staring at this pretty wood-nymph so rudely, +if she should by chance awaken just now.”</p> +<p>Tightening the strap of his game-bag over his shoulder, and +readjusting his velvet cap jauntily over his brown curls, Rex +was about to resume his journey in the direction of Whitestone +Hall, when the sound of rapidly approaching carriage-wheels +fell upon his ears. Realizing his awkward position, Rex knew +the wisest course he could possibly pursue would be to screen +himself behind the magnolia branches until the vehicle should +pass. The next instant a pair of prancing ponies, attached to +a basket phaeton, in which sat a young girl, who held them +well in check, dashed rapidly up the road. Rex could scarcely +repress an exclamation of surprise as he saw the occupant was +his young hostess, Pluma Hurlhurst of Whitestone Hall. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +drew rein directly in front of the sleeping girl, and Rex Lyon +never forgot, to his dying day, the discordant laugh that broke +from her red lips––a laugh which caused poor Daisy to start +from her slumber in wild alarm, scattering the snowy contents +of the basket in all directions.</p> +<p>For a single instant their eyes met––these two girls, whose +lives were to cross each other so strangely––poor Daisy, like a +frightened bird, as she guessed intuitively at the identity of +the other; Pluma, haughty, derisive, and scornfully mocking.</p> +<p>“You are the person whom Miss Brooks sent to Whitestone +Hall with my mull dresses some three hours since, I presume. +May I ask what detained you?”</p> +<p>Poor Daisy was quite crestfallen; great tear-drops trembled +on her long lashes. How could she answer? She had fallen +asleep, wooed by the lulling breeze and the sunshine.</p> +<p>“The basket was so heavy,” she answered, timidly, “and +I––I––sat down to rest a few moments, and––”</p> +<p>“Further explanation is quite unnecessary,” retorted +Pluma, sharply, gathering up the reins. “See that you have +those things at the Hall within ten minutes; not an instant +later.”</p> +<p>Touching the prancing ponies with her ivory-handled whip, +the haughty young heiress whirled leisurely down the road, +leaving Daisy, with flushed face and tear-dimmed eyes, gazing +after her.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, I wish I had never been born,” she sobbed, +flinging herself down on her knees, and burying her face in +the long, cool grass. “No one ever speaks a kind word to me +but poor old Uncle John, and even he dare not be kind when +Aunt Septima is near. She might have taken this heavy +basket in her carriage,” sighed Daisy, bravely lifting the +heavy burden in her delicate arms.</p> +<p>“That is just what I think,” muttered Rex Lyon from his +place of concealment, savagely biting his lip.</p> +<p>In another moment he was by her side.</p> +<p>“Pardon me,” he said, deferentially raising his cap from +his glossy curls, “that basket is too heavy for your slender +arms. Allow me to assist you.”</p> +<p>In a moment the young girl stood up, and made the prettiest +and most graceful of courtesies as she raised to his a face he +never forgot. Involuntarily he raised his cap again in homage +to her youth, and her shy sweet beauty.</p> +<p>“No; I thank you, sir, I have not far to carry the basket,” +she replied, in a voice sweet as the chiming of silver bells––a +voice that thrilled him, he could not tell why.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></div> +<p>A sudden desire possessed Rex to know who she was and +from whence she came.</p> +<p>“Do you live at the Hall?” he asked.</p> +<p>“No,” she replied, “I am Daisy Brooks, the overseer’s +niece.”</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks,” said Rex, musingly. “What a pretty +name! how well it suits you!”</p> +<p>He watched the crimson blushes that dyed her fair young +face––she never once raised her dark-blue eyes to his. The +more Rex looked at her the more he admired this coy, bewitching, +pretty little maiden. She made a fair picture under +the boughs of the magnolia-tree, thick with odorous pink-and-white +tinted blossoms, the sunbeams falling on her golden +hair.</p> +<p>The sunshine or the gentle southern wind brought Rex no +warning he was forging the first links of a dreadful tragedy. +He thought only of the shy blushing beauty and coy grace of +the young girl––he never dreamed of the hour when he should +look back to that moment, wondering at his own blind folly, +with a curse on his lips.</p> +<p>Again from over the trees came the sound of the great bell +from the Hall.</p> +<p>“It is eight o’clock,” cried Daisy, in alarm. “Miss Pluma +will be so angry with me.”</p> +<p>“Angry!” said Rex; “angry with you! For what?”</p> +<p>“She is waiting for the mull dresses,” replied Daisy.</p> +<p>It was a strange idea to him that any one should dare be +angry with this pretty gentle Daisy.</p> +<p>“You will at least permit me to carry your basket as far as +the gate,” he said, shouldering her burden without waiting for +a reply. Daisy had no choice but to follow him. “There,” +said Rex, setting the basket down by the plantation gate, +which they had reached all too soon, “you must go, I suppose. +It seems hard to leave the bright sunshine to go indoors.”</p> +<p>“I––I shall soon return,” said Daisy, with innocent frankness.</p> +<p>“Shall you?” cried Rex. “Will you return home by the +same path?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, “if Miss Pluma does not need me.”</p> +<p>“Good-bye, Daisy,” he said. “I shall see you again.”</p> +<p>He held out his hand and her little fingers trembled and +fluttered in his clasp. Daisy looked so happy yet so frightened, +so charming yet so shy, Rex hardly knew how to define +the feeling that stirred in his heart.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></div> +<p>He watched the graceful, fairy figure as Daisy tripped away––instead +of thinking he had done a very foolish thing that +bright morning. Rex lighted a cigar and fell to dreaming of +sweet little Daisy Brooks, and wondering how he should pass +the time until he should see her again.</p> +<p>While Daisy almost flew up the broad gravel path to the +house, the heavy burden she bore seemed light as a feather––no +thought that she had been imprudent ever entered her +mind.</p> +<p>There was no one to warn her of the peril which lay in the +witching depths of the handsome stranger’s glances.</p> +<p>All her young life she had dreamed of the hero who would +one day come to her, just such a dream as all youthful maidens +experience––an idol they enshrine in their innermost heart, +and worship in secret, never dreaming of a cold, dark time +when the idol may lie shattered in ruins at their feet. How +little knew gentle Daisy Brooks of the fatal love which would +drag her down to her doom!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_III' id='CHAPTER_III'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> +</div> +<p>In an elegant boudoir, all crimson and gold, some hours +later, sat Pluma Hurlhurst, reclining negligently on a satin +divan, toying idly with a volume which lay in her lap. She +tossed the book aside with a yawn, turning her superb dark +eyes on the little figure bending over the rich trailing silks +which were to adorn her own fair beauty on the coming evening.</p> +<p>“So you think you would like to attend the lawn fête to-night, +Daisy?” she asked, patronizingly.</p> +<p>Daisy glanced up with a startled blush,</p> +<p>“Oh, I should like it so much, Miss Pluma,” she answered, +hesitatingly, “if I only could!”</p> +<p>“I think I shall gratify you,” said Pluma, carelessly. +“You have made yourself very valuable to me. I like the +artistic manner you have twined these roses in my hair; the +effect is quite picturesque.” She glanced satisfiedly at her +own magnificent reflection in the cheval-glass opposite. Titian +alone could have reproduced those rich, marvelous colors––that +perfect, queenly beauty. He would have painted the picture, +and the world would have raved about its beauty. The dark +masses of raven-black hair; the proud, haughty face, with its +warm southern tints; the dusky eyes, lighted with fire and +passion, and the red, curved lips. “I wish particularly to +look my very best to-night, Daisy,” she said; “that is why I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +wish you to remain. You can arrange those sprays of white +heath in my hair superbly. Then you shall attend the fête, +Daisy. Remember, you are not expected to take part in it; +you must sit in some secluded nook where you will be quite +unobserved.”</p> +<p>Pluma could not help but smile at the ardent delight depicted +in Daisy’s face.</p> +<p>“I am afraid I can not stay,” she said, doubtfully, glancing +down in dismay at the pink-and-white muslin she wore. +“Every one would be sure to laugh at me who saw me. Then +I would wish I had not stayed.”</p> +<p>“Suppose I should give you one to wear––that white mull, +for instance––how would you like it? None of the guests +would see you,” replied Pluma.</p> +<p>There was a wistful look in Daisy’s eyes, as though she +would fain believe what she heard was really true.</p> +<p>“Would you really?” asked Daisy, wonderingly. “You, +whom people call so haughty and so proud––you would really +let me wear one of your dresses? I do not know how to tell +you how much I am pleased!” she said, eagerly.</p> +<p>Pluma Hurlhurst laughed. Such rapture was new to her.</p> +<p>The night which drew its mantle over the smiling earth was +a perfect one. Myriads of stars shone like jewels in the blue +sky, and not a cloud obscured the face of the clear full moon. +Hurlhurst Plantation was ablaze with colored lamps that threw +out soft rainbow tints in all directions as far as the eye could +reach. The interior of Whitestone Hall was simply dazzling +in its rich rose bloom, its lights, its fountains, and rippling +music from adjoining ferneries.</p> +<p>In an elegant apartment of the Hall Basil Hurlhurst, the +recluse invalid, lay upon his couch, trying to shut out the +mirth and gayety that floated up to him from below. As the +sound of Pluma’s voice sounded upon his ear he turned his +face to the wall with a bitter groan. “She is so like––” he +muttered, grimly. “Ah! the pleasant voices of our youth +turn into lashes which scourge us in our old age. ‘Like +mother, like child.’”</p> +<p>The lawn fête was a grand success; the <i>élite</i> of the whole +country round were gathered together to welcome the beautiful, +peerless hostess of Whitestone Hall. Pluma moved among +her guests like a queen, yet in all that vast throng her eyes +eagerly sought one face. “Where was Rex?” was the question +which constantly perplexed her. After the first waltz he had +suddenly disappeared. Only the evening before handsome +Rex Lyon had held her jeweled hand long at parting, whispering, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +in his graceful, charming way, he had something to tell +her on the morrow. “Why did he hold himself so strangely +aloof?” Pluma asked herself, in bitter wonder. Ah! had she +but known!</p> +<p>While Pluma, the wealthy heiress, awaited his coming so +eagerly, Rex Lyon was standing, quite lost in thought, beside +a rippling fountain in one of the most remote parts of the +lawn, thinking of Daisy Brooks. He had seen a fair face––that +was all––a face that embodied his dream of loveliness, +and without thinking of it found his fate, and the whole world +seemed changed for him.</p> +<p>Handsome, impulsive Rex Lyon, owner of several of the +most extensive and lucrative orange groves in Florida, would +have bartered every dollar of his worldly possessions for love.</p> +<p>He had hitherto treated all notion of love in a very off-hand, +cavalier fashion.</p> +<p>“Love is fate,” he had always said. He knew Pluma loved +him. Last night he had said to himself: The time had come +when he might as well marry; it might as well be Pluma as +any one else, seeing she cared so much for him. Now all that +was changed. “I sincerely hope she will not attach undue +significance to the words I spoke last evening,” he mused.</p> +<p>Rex did not care to return again among the throng; it was +sweeter far to sit there by the murmuring fountain dreaming +of Daisy Brooks, and wondering when he should see her again. +A throng which did not hold the face of Daisy Brooks had no +charm for Rex.</p> +<p>Suddenly a soft step sounded on the grass; Rex’s heart gave +a sudden bound; surely it could not be––yes, it was––Daisy +Brooks.</p> +<p>She drew back with a startled cry as her eyes suddenly encountered +those of her hero of the morning. She would have +fled precipitately had he not stretched out his hand quickly to +detain her.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” cried Rex, “why do you look so frightened? Are +you displeased to see me?”</p> +<p>“No,” she said. “I––I––do not know––”</p> +<p>She looked so pretty, so bewildered, so dazzled by joy, yet so +pitifully uncertain, Rex was more desperately in love with her +than ever.</p> +<p>“Your eyes speak, telling me you <i>are</i> pleased, Daisy, even +if your lips <i>refuse</i> to tell me so. Sit down on this rustic +bench, Daisy, while I tell you how anxiously I awaited your +coming––waited until the shadows of evening fell.”</p> +<p>As he talked to her he grew more interested with every +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +moment. She had no keen intellect, no graceful powers of +repartee, knew little of books or the great world beyond. +Daisy was a simple, guileless child of nature.</p> +<p>Rex’s vanity was gratified at the unconscious admiration +which shone in her eyes and the blushes his words brought to +her cheeks.</p> +<p>“There is my favorite waltz, Daisy,” he said, as the music +of the irresistible “Blue Danube” floated out to them. “Will +you favor me with a waltz?”</p> +<p>“Miss Pluma would be so angry,” she murmured.</p> +<p>“Never mind her anger, Daisy. I will take all the blame +on <i>my</i> shoulders. They are unusually broad, you see.”</p> +<p>He led her half reluctant among the gay throng; gentlemen +looked at one another in surprise. Who is she? they asked one +of the other, gazing upon her in wonder. No one could answer. +The sweet-faced little maiden in soft, floating white, +with a face like an angel’s, who wore no other ornament than +her crown of golden hair, was a mystery and a novelty. In +all the long years of her after life Daisy never forgot that +supremely blissful moment. It seemed to her they were floating +away into another sphere. Rex’s arms were around her, +his eyes smiling down into hers; he could feel the slight form +trembling in his embrace, and he clasped her still closer. +With youth, music, and beauty––there was nothing wanting +to complete the charm of love.</p> +<p>Leaning gracefully against an overarching palm-tree stood +a young man watching the pair with a strange intentness; a +dark, vindictive smile hovered about the corners of his mouth, +hidden by his black mustache, and there was a cruel gleam in +the dark, wicked eyes scanning the face of the young girl so +closely.</p> +<p>“Ah! why not?” he mused. “It would be a glorious revenge.” +He made his way hurriedly in the direction of his +young hostess, who was, as usual, surrounded by a group of +admirers. A deep crimson spot burned on either cheek, and +her eyes glowed like stars, as of one under intense, suppressed +excitement.</p> +<p>Lester Stanwick made his way to her side just as the last +echo of the waltz died away on the air, inwardly congratulating +himself upon finding Rex and Daisy directly beside him.</p> +<p>“Miss Pluma,” said Stanwick, with a low bow, “will you +kindly present me to the little fairy on your right? I am quite +desperately smitten with her.”</p> +<p>Several gentlemen crowded around Pluma asking the same +favor.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></div> +<p>With a smile and a bow, what could Rex do but lead Daisy +gracefully forward. Those who witnessed the scene that ensued +never forgot it. For answer Pluma Hurlhurst turned +coldly, haughtily toward them, drawing herself up proudly to +her full height.</p> +<p>“There is evidently some mistake here,” she said, glancing +scornfully at the slight, girlish figure leaning upon Rex Lyon’s +arm. “I do not recognize this person as a guest. If I mistake +not, she is one of the hirelings connected with the plantation.”</p> +<p>If a thunderbolt had suddenly exploded beneath Rex’s feet +he could not have been more thoroughly astounded.</p> +<p>Daisy uttered a piteous little cry and, like a tender flower +cut down by a sudden, rude blast, would have fallen at his +feet had he not reached out his arm to save her.</p> +<p>“Miss Hurlhurst,” cried Rex, in a voice husky with emotion, +“I hold myself responsible for this young lady’s presence +here. I––”</p> +<p>“Ah!” interrupts Pluma, ironically; “and may I ask by +what right you force one so inferior, and certainly obnoxious, +among us?”</p> +<p>Rex Lyon’s handsome face was white with rage. “Miss +Hurlhurst,” he replied, with stately dignity, “I regret, more +than the mere words express, that my heedlessness has brought +upon this little creature at my side an insult so cruel, so unjust, +and so bitter, in simply granting my request for a waltz––a +request very reluctantly granted. An invited guest among +you she may not be; but I most emphatically defy her inferiority +to any lady or gentleman present.”</p> +<p>“Rex––Mr. Lyon,” says Pluma, icily, “you forget yourself.”</p> +<p>He smiled contemptuously. “I do not admit it,” he said, +hotly. “I have done that which any gentleman should have +done; defended from insult one of the purest and sweetest of +maidens. I will do more––I will shield her, henceforth and +forever, with my very life, if need be. If I can win her, I +shall make Daisy Brooks my wife.”</p> +<p>Rex spoke rapidly––vehemently. His chivalrous soul was +aroused; he scarcely heeded the impetuous words that fell from +his lips. He could not endure the thought that innocent, +trusting little Daisy should suffer through any fault of his.</p> +<p>“Come, Daisy,” he said, softly, clasping in his own strong +white ones the little fingers clinging so pitifully to his arm, +“we will go away from here at once––our presence longer is +probably obnoxious. Farewell, Miss Hurlhurst.”</p> +<p>“Rex,” cried Pluma, involuntarily taking a step forward, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +“you do not, you can not mean what you say. You will not +allow a creature like that to separate us––you have forgotten, +Rex. You said you had something to tell me. You will not +part with me so easily,” she cried.</p> +<p>A sudden terror seized her at the thought of losing him. +He was her world. She forgot the guests gathering about +her––forgot she was the wealthy, courted heiress for whose +glance or smiles men sued in vain––forgot her haughty pride, +in the one absorbing thought that Rex was going from her. +Her wild, fiery, passionate love could bear no restraint.</p> +<p>“Rex,” she cried, suddenly falling on her knees before him, +her face white and stormy, her white jeweled hands clasped +supplicatingly, “you must not, you shall not leave me so; no +one shall come between us. Listen––I love you, Rex. What +if the whole world knows it––what will it matter, it is the +truth. My love is my life. You loved me until she came +between us with her false, fair face. But for this you would +have asked me to be your wife. Send that miserable little +hireling away, Rex––the gardener will take charge of her.”</p> +<p>Pluma spoke rapidly, vehemently. No one could stay the +torrent of her bitter words.</p> +<p>Rex was painfully distressed and annoyed. Fortunately but +very few of the guests had observed the thrilling tableau +enacted so near them.</p> +<p>“Pluma––Miss Hurlhurst,” he said, “I am sorry you have +unfortunately thus expressed yourself, for your own sake. I +beg you will say no more. You yourself have severed this +night the last link of friendship between us. I am frank with +you in thus admitting it. I sympathize with you, while your +words have filled me with the deepest consternation and embarrassment, +which it is useless longer to prolong.”</p> +<p>Drawing Daisy’s arm hurriedly within his own, Rex Lyon +strode quickly down the graveled path, with the full determination +of never again crossing the threshold of Whitestone +Hall, or gazing upon the face of Pluma Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Pluma had arisen from her knees with a gay, +mocking laugh, turning suddenly to the startled group about +her.</p> +<p>“Bravo! bravo! Miss Pluma,” cried Lester Stanwick, stepping +to her side at that opportune moment. “On the stage +you would have made a grand success. We are practicing for +a coming charade,” explained Stanwick, laughingly; “and, +judging from the expressions depicted on our friend’s faces, I +should say you have drawn largely upon real life. You will +be a success, Miss Pluma.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></div> +<p>No one dreamed of doubting the assertion. A general +laugh followed, and the music struck up again, and the gay +mirth of the fête resumed its sway.</p> +<p>Long after the guests had departed Pluma sat in her +boudoir, her heart torn with pain, love, and jealousy, her brain +filled with schemes of vengeance.</p> +<p>“I can not take her life!” she cried; “but if I could mar +her beauty––the pink-and-white beauty of Daisy Brooks, which +has won Rex from me––I would do it. I shall torture her for +this,” she cried. “I will win him from her though I wade +through seas of blood. Hear me, Heaven,” she cried, “and +register my vow!”</p> +<p>Pluma hastily rung the bell.</p> +<p>“Saddle Whirlwind and Tempest at once!” she said to the +servant who answered her summons.</p> +<p>“It is after midnight, Miss Pluma. I––”</p> +<p>There was a look in her eyes which would brook no further +words.</p> +<p>An hour later they had reached the cottage wherein slept +Daisy Brooks, heedless of the danger that awaited her.</p> +<p>“Wait for me here,” said Pluma to the groom who accompanied +her––“<i>I will not be long!</i>”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV' id='CHAPTER_IV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +</div> +<p>“Daisy,” said Rex, gently, as he led her away from the +lights and the echoing music out into the starlight that shone +with a soft, silvery radiance over hill and vale, “I shall never +forgive myself for being the cause of the cruel insult you have +been forced to endure to-night. I declare it’s a shame. I +shall tell Pluma so to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no––no––please don’t, Mr. Rex. I––I––had no right +to waltz with you,” sobbed Daisy, “when I knew you were +Pluma’s lover.”</p> +<p>“Don’t say that, Daisy,” responded Rex, warmly. “I am +glad, after all, everything has happened just as it did, otherwise +I should never have known just how dear a certain little +girl had grown to me; besides, I am not Pluma’s lover, and +never shall be now.”</p> +<p>“You have quarreled with her for my sake,” whispered +Daisy, regretfully. “I am so sorry––indeed I am.”</p> +<p>Daisy little dreamed, as she watched the deep flush rise to +Rex’s face, it was of her he was thinking, and not Pluma, by +the words, “a certain little girl.”</p> +<p>Rex saw she did not understand him; he stopped short in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +path, gazing down into those great, dreamy, pleading eyes +that affected him so strangely.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” he said, gently, taking her little clinging hands +from his arm, and clasping them in his own, “you must not +be startled at what I am going to tell you. When I met you +under the magnolia boughs, I knew I had met my fate. I +said to myself: ‘She, and no other, shall be my wife.’”</p> +<p>“Your wife,” she cried, looking at him in alarm. “Please +don’t say so. I don’t want to be your wife.”</p> +<p>“Why not, Daisy?” he asked, quickly.</p> +<p>“Because you are so far above me,” sobbed Daisy. “You +are so rich, and I am only poor little Daisy Brooks.”</p> +<p>Oh, how soft and beautiful were the eyes swimming in tears +and lifted so timidly to his face! She could not have touched +Rex more deeply. Daisy was his first love, and he loved her +from the first moment their eyes met, with all the strength of +his boyish, passionate nature; so it is not strange that the +thought of possessing her, years sooner than he should have +dared hope, made his young blood stir with ecstasy even +though he knew it was wrong.</p> +<p>“Wealth shall be no barrier between us, Daisy,” he cried. +“What is all the wealth in the world compared to love? Do +not say that again. Love outweighs everything. Even +though you bid me go away and forget you, Daisy, I could +not do it. I can not live without you.”</p> +<p>“Do you really love me so much in so short a time?” she +asked, blushingly.</p> +<p>“My love can not be measured by the length of time I have +known you,” he answered, eagerly. “Why, Daisy, the +strongest and deepest love men have ever felt have come to +them suddenly, without warning.”</p> +<p>The glamour of love was upon him; he could see no faults in +pretty little artless Daisy. True, she had not been educated +abroad like Pluma, but that did not matter; such a lovely +rosebud mouth was made for kisses, not grammar.</p> +<p>Rex stood in suspense beside her, eagerly watching the +conflict going on in the girl’s heart.</p> +<p>“Don’t refuse me, Daisy,” he cried, “give me the right to +protect you forever from the cold world; let us be married to-night. +We will keep it a secret if you say so. You must––you +<i>must</i>, Daisy, for I can not give you up.”</p> +<p>Rex was so eager, so earnest, so thoroughly the impassioned +lover! His hands were clinging to her own, his dark, handsome +face drooped near hers, his pleading eyes searching her +very soul.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></div> +<p>Daisy was young, romantic, and impressible; a thousand +thoughts rushed through her brain; it would be so nice to +have a young husband to love her and care for her like Rex, +so handsome and so kind; then, too, she would have plenty of +dresses, as fine as Pluma wore, all lace and puffs; she might +have a carriage and ponies, too; and when she rolled by the +little cottage, Septima, who had always been so cruel to her, +would courtesy to <i>her</i>, as she did when Pluma, the haughty +young heiress, passed.</p> +<p>The peachy bloom on her cheeks deepened; with Daisy’s +thoughtless clinging nature, her craving for love and protection, +her implicit faith in Rex, who had protected her so nobly +at the fête––it is not to be wondered Rex won the day.</p> +<p>Shyly Daisy raised her blue eyes to his face––and he read a +shy, sweet consent that thrilled his very soul.</p> +<p>“You shall never regret this hour, my darling,” he cried, +then in the soft silvery twilight he took her to his heart and +kissed her rapturously.</p> +<p>His mother’s bitter anger, so sure to follow––the cold, +haughty mother, who never forgot or forgave an injury, and +his little sister Birdie’s sorrow were at that moment quite forgotten––even +if they had been remembered they would have +weighed as naught compared with his lovely little Daisy with +the golden hair and eyes of blue looking up at him so trustingly.</p> +<p>Daisy never forgot that walk through the sweet pink clover +to the little chapel on the banks of the lonely river. The +crickets chirped in the long green grass, and the breeze swayed +the branches of the tall leafy trees, rocking the little birds in +their nests.</p> +<p>A sudden, swift, terrified look crept up into Daisy’s face as +they entered the dim shadowy parlor. Rex took her trembling +chilled hands in his own; if he had not, at that moment, Daisy +would have fled from the room.</p> +<p>“Only a little courage, Daisy,” he whispered, “then a life +of happiness.”</p> +<p>Then as if in a dream she stood quite still by his side, while +the fatal ceremony went on; in a confused murmur she heard +the questions and responses of her lover, and answered the +questions put to her; then Rex turned to her with a smile and +a kiss.</p> +<p>Poor little thoughtless Daisy––it was done––in a moment +she had sown the seeds from which was to spring up a harvest +of woe so terrible that her wildest imagination could not have +painted it.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></div> +<p>“Are we really married, Rex?” she whispered, as he led +her out again into the starlight; “it seems so much like a +dream.”</p> +<p>He bent his handsome head and kissed his pretty child-bride. +Daisy drew back with a startled cry––his lips were as +cold as ice.</p> +<p>“Yes, you are my very own now,” he whispered. “No +one shall ever have the right to scold you again; you are mine +now, Daisy, but we must keep it a secret from every one for +awhile, darling. You will do this for my sake, won’t you, +Daisy?” he asked. “I am rich, as far as the world knows, +but it was left to me under peculiar conditions. I––I––do not +like to tell you what those conditions were, Daisy.”</p> +<p>“Please tell me, Rex,” she said, timidly; “you know I am +your––your––wife––now.”</p> +<p>Daisy blushed so prettily as she spoke. Rex could not refrain +from catching her up in his arms and kissing her.</p> +<p>“You <i>shall</i> know, my darling,” he cried. “The conditions +were I should marry the bride whom my mother selected +for me. I was as much startled as you will be, Daisy, when +you hear who it was––Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall.”</p> +<p>“But you can not marry her now, Rex,” whispered the +little child-bride, nestling closer in his embrace.</p> +<p>“No; nor I would not if I could. I love you the best, my +pretty wild flower. I would not exchange you, sweet, for all +the world. I have only told you this so you will see why it is +necessary to keep our marriage a secret––for the present, at +least.”</p> +<p>Daisy readily consented.</p> +<p>“You are very wise, Rex,” she said. “I will do just as +you tell me.”</p> +<p>By this time they had reached Daisy’s home.</p> +<p>“I will meet you to-morrow at the magnolia-tree, where +first I found my little wood-nymph, as I shall always call you. +Then we can talk matters over better. You will be sure to +come while the dew sparkles on your pretty namesakes?” he +asked, eagerly.</p> +<p>Before she had time to answer the cottage door opened and +Septima appeared in the door-way. Rex was obliged to content +himself with snatching a hasty kiss from the rosy lips. +The next moment he was alone.</p> +<p>He walked slowly back through the tangled brushwood––not +to Whitestone Hall, but to an adjoining hostelry––feeling as +though he were in a new world. True, it <i>was</i> hard to be +separated from his little child-bride. But Rex had a clever +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +brain; he meant to think of some plan out of the present +difficulty. His face flushed and paled as he thought of his +new position; it seemed to him every one must certainly read +in his face he was a young husband.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the broad gravel path to +the little cottage, wondering if it were a dream.</p> +<p>“Well!” said Septima, sharply, “this is a pretty time of +night to come dancing home, leaving me all alone with the +baking! If I hadn’t my hands full of dough I’d give your +ears a sound boxing! I’ll see you’re never out after dark +again, I’ll warrant.”</p> +<p>For a moment Daisy’s blue eyes blazed, giving way to a +roguish smile.</p> +<p>“I wonder what she would say if she knew I was Daisy +Brooks no longer, but Mrs. Rex Lyon?” she thought, untying +the blue ribbons of her hat. And she laughed outright as she +thought how amazed Septima would look; and the laugh +sounded like the ripple of a mountain brook.</p> +<p>“Now, Aunt Seppy,” coaxed Daisy, slipping up behind her +and flinging her plump little arms around the irate spinster’s +neck, “please don’t be cross. Indeed I was very particularly +detained.”</p> +<p>Stptima shook off the clinging arms angrily.</p> +<p>“You can’t coax <i>me</i> into upholding you with your soft, +purring ways. I’m not Brother John, to be hoodwinked so +easily. Detained! A likely story!”</p> +<p>“No,” laughed Daisy; “but you are dear old Uncle John’s +sister, and I could love you for that, if for nothing else. But +I really was detained, though. Where’s Uncle John?”</p> +<p>“He’s gone to the Hall after you, I reckon. I told him he +had better stop at home––you were like a bad penny, sure to +find your way back.”</p> +<p>A sudden terror blanched Daisy’s face.</p> +<p>“When did he go, Aunt Seppy?” she asked, her heart +throbbing so loudly she was sure Septima would hear it.</p> +<p>“An hour or more ago.”</p> +<p>Daisy hastily picked up her hat again.</p> +<p>“Where are you going?” demanded Septima, sharply.</p> +<p>“I––I––am going to meet Uncle John. Please don’t stop +me,” she cried, darting with the speed of a young gazelle past +the hand that was stretched out to stay her mad flight. “I––I––must +go!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V' id='CHAPTER_V'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> +</div> +<p>“I say you shall not,” cried Septima, planting herself +firmly before her. “You shall not leave this house to-night.”</p> +<p>“You have no right to keep me here,” panted Daisy. “I +am––I am––” The words died away on her lips. Rex had +told her she must not tell just yet.</p> +<p>“You are a rash little fool,” cried Septima, wrathfully. +“You are the bane of my life, and have been ever since that +stormy winter night John brought you here. I told him then +to wash his hands of the whole matter; you would grow up a +willful, impetuous minx, and turn out at last like your +mother.”</p> +<p>Daisy sprung to her feet like lightning, her velvet eyes +blazing, her breath coming quick and hot.</p> +<p>“Speak of me as lightly as you will, Aunt Septima,” she +cried, “but you must spare my poor mother’s name! Oh, +mother, mother!” she cried, flinging herself down on her +knees, and sobbing piteously, “if you had only taken me with +you, down into the dark cruel waters!”</p> +<p>“I only wish to Heaven she had!” fervently ejaculated +Septima.</p> +<p>At that moment a quick, hurried step sounded on the gravel +path without, and John Brooks hastily entered the room.</p> +<p>“Ah! thank God! here you are, Daisy. I was over at the +Hall for you, and they told me you had left some hours before. +I knew you had not been home, and I was sorely afraid something +had happened you.”</p> +<p>Ah! how little he knew! Something had happened to her, the +darkest and cruelest shadow that had ever darkened a girl’s life +was slowly gathering above her innocent head, and was soon +to break, carrying in its turbulent depths a sorrow more bitter +than death to bear.</p> +<p>John Brooks glanced inquiringly from the one to the other, +intuitively guessing he must have interrupted a scene.</p> +<p>Daisy had struggled up from her knees to a sitting posture, +putting her hair, curled into a thousand shining rings, away +from her flushed face.</p> +<p>“Have you been scolding Daisy again, Septima?” he asked, +angrily, taking the panting little damsel from the floor and +seating her upon his knee, and drawing her curly head down +to his rough-clad shoulder, and holding it there with his toil-hardened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +hand. “What have you been saying to my little +Daisy that I find her in tears?”</p> +<p>“I was telling her if she did not mend her willful ways she +might turn out like her moth––”</p> +<p>“Hush!” exclaimed John Brooks, excitedly. “I shouldn’t +have thought you would have dared say that. What does +Daisy know of such things?” he muttered, indignantly. +“Don’t let your senses run away with you, Septima.”</p> +<p>“Don’t let your senses run away with you, John Brooks. +Haven’t you the sense to know Daisy is getting too big for you +to take on your knee and pet in that fashion? I am really +ashamed of you. Daisy is almost a woman!” snapped Septima, +scornfully––“quite sixteen.”</p> +<p>John Brooks looked at his sister in amazement, holding +little Daisy off and gazing into the sweet little blooming face, +and stroking the long fluffy golden curls as he replied:</p> +<p>“Ah, no, Septima; Daisy is only a child. Why, it seems +as though it were but yesterday I used to take her with me +through the cotton-fields, and laugh to see her stretch her +chubby hands up, crying for the bursting blossoms, growing +high above her curly golden head. Pshaw! Septima, Daisy is +only a merry, frolicsome, romantic child yet.”</p> +<p>Daisy nestled her tell-tale face closer on his broad shoulder +to hide the swift blushes that crept up to cheek and brow.</p> +<p>“Look up, pet,” he said, coaxingly, “I have news for +you.”</p> +<p>“What––what is it?” gasped Daisy, wondering if he could +possibly have heard of her romantic marriage with Rex, turning +white to the very lips, her blue eyes darkening with +suspense.</p> +<p>“Come, come, now,” laughed, John, good-humoredly, +“don’t get excited, pet, it will take me just as long to tell it +anyhow; it is something that will please you immensely.”</p> +<p>He drew from his breast pocket as he spoke a thick, yellow +envelope, which contained several printed forms with blank +spaces which were to be filled up. There was something in +his voice which made Daisy look at him, but her eyes fell and +her cheeks flushed hotly as she met his glance.</p> +<p>Daisy was not used to keeping a secret locked up in her +truthful little heart. She longed to throw her arms around +his neck and whisper to him of her mad, romantic marriage, +and of the handsome young husband who loved her so fondly.</p> +<p>Daisy knew so little of real life, and less of love and marriage, +up to the time she had met Rex! Her heroes had been +imaginary ones, her ideas of love only girlish, romantic fancies. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +It was all very exciting and charming. She was very fond of +handsome Rex, but she had yet to learn the depths of love +which, sooner or later, brightens the lives of lovable women.</p> +<p>Daisy looked at the envelope with a wistful glance.</p> +<p>“I am going to make a lady of you, my little sunbeam. I +am going to send you off to boarding-school. That’s what you +have always wanted; now I am going to humor your whim.”</p> +<p>“But I––I do not want to go now, Uncle John. I––I have +changed my mind.”</p> +<p>“What!”</p> +<p>“I––I don’t want to go off to boarding-school now. I had +rather stay here with you.”</p> +<p>John Brooks laid down the pipe he was just lighting in +genuine surprise.</p> +<p>“Why, it’s only last week you were crying those pretty eyes +of yours out, teasing to be sent to school. I––well, confound +it––I don’t understand the ways of women. I always thought +you were different from the rest, little Daisy, but I see you are +all the same. Never two days of the same mind. What is +the reason you’ve changed your mind, pet?”</p> +<p>“Indeed, I don’t want to go now, Uncle John. Please +don’t talk about it any more. I––I am happier here than I +can tell you.”</p> +<p>John Brooks laughed cheerily.</p> +<p>“It’s too late for you to change your mind now, little one. +I have made arrangements for you to start bright and early to-morrow +morning. The stage will be here by daylight, so you +had better start off to bed at once, or there will be no roses in +these checks to-morrow.”</p> +<p>He never forgot the expression of the white, startled face +Daisy raised to his. For once in her life Daisy was unable to +shake him from his purpose.</p> +<p>“I know best, little one,” he said. “I mean to make a +lady of you. You have no fortune, little Daisy, but your +pretty face. It will be hard to lose my little sunbeam, but it +is my duty, Daisy. It is too late to back out now; for once I +am firm. You must start to-morrow morning.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” sobbed Daisy, throwing herself down +on her little white bed when she had reached her own room, +“what shall I do? I can’t go without seeing Rex. I never +heard of a girl that was married being sent off to school. I––I +dare not tell Uncle John I am somebody’s wife. Oh, if I +could only see Rex!” Daisy springs out of bed and crosses +over to the little white curtained window, gazing out into the +still calm beauty of the night. “If I only knew where to find +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +Rex,” she mused, “I would go to him now. Surely he would +not let me be sent away from him.” She turned away from +the window with a sigh. “I must see Rex to-morrow morning,” +she said, determinedly. And the weary little golden +head, tired out with the day which had just died out, sunk +restfully down upon the snowy pillow in a dreamless sleep, +the happiest, alas! that poor little girl-bride was to know for +long and weary years.</p> +<p>A dark, dreamy silence wraps the cottage in its soft embrace, +the moon, clear and full, sails tranquilly through the +star-sown heavens, and the sweet scent of distant orange groves +is wafted through the midnight breeze. Yet the dark-cloaked +figure that walks quickly and softly up the graveled walk sees +none of the soft, calm beauty of the still summer night. She +raises the brass knocker with a quick, imperative touch. After +a wait of perhaps ten minutes or so Septima answers the summons, +but the candle she holds nearly drops from her hands as +she beholds the face of her midnight visitor in the dim, uncertain +flickering glare of the candle-light.</p> +<p>“Miss Pluma,” she exclaims, in amazement, “is there any +one ill at the Hall?”</p> +<p>“No!” replies Pluma, in a low, soft, guarded whisper. “I +wished to see you––my business is most important––may I +come in?”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” answered Septima, awkwardly. “I beg your +pardon, miss, for keeping you standing outside so long.”</p> +<p>As Pluma took the seat Septima placed for her, the dark +cloak she wore fell from her shoulders, and Septima saw with +wonder she still wore the shimmering silk she had in all probability +worn at the fête. The rubies still glowed like restless, +leaping fire upon her perfect arms and snowy throat, and +sprays of hyacinth were still twined in her dark, glossy hair; +but they were quite faded now, drooping, crushed, and limp +among her curls; there was a strange dead-white pallor on her +haughty face, and a lurid gleam shone in her dark, slumbrous +eyes. Pluma had studied well the character of the woman before +her––who made no secret of her dislike for the child +thrust upon their bounty––and readily imagined she would +willingly aid her in carrying out the scheme she had planned.</p> +<p>Slowly one by one the stars died out of the sky; the pale +moon drifted silently behind the heavy rolling clouds; the +winds tossed the tops of the tall trees to and fro, and the dense +darkness which precedes the breaking of the gray dawn settled +over the earth.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></div> +<p>The ponies which the groom had held for long hours pawed +the ground restlessly; the man himself was growing impatient.</p> +<p>“She can be up to no good,” he muttered; “all honest +people should be in their beds.”</p> +<p>The door of the cottage opened, and Pluma Hurlhurst +walked slowly down the path.</p> +<p>“All is fair in love’s warfare,” she mutters, triumphantly. +“Fool! with your baby face and golden hair, you shall walk +quickly into the net I have spread for you; he shall despise +you. Ay, crush with his heel into the earth the very flowers +that bear the name of <i>Daisy</i>.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI' id='CHAPTER_VI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +</div> +<p>Under the magnolia-tree, among the pink clover, Rex +Lyon paced uneasily to and fro, wondering what could have +happened to detain Daisy. He was very nervous, feverish, +and impatient, as he watched the sun rising higher and higher +in the blue heavens, and glanced at his watch for the fifth +time in the space of a minute.</p> +<p>“Pshaw!” he muttered, whisking off the tops of the buttercups +near him with his ebony walking-stick. “I am not +myself at all. I am growing as nervous as a woman. I think +I’ll read little sister Birdie’s letter over again to occupy my +mind until my sweet little Daisy comes.”</p> +<p>He sighed and smiled in one breath, as he threw himself +down at full length on the green grass under the trees. Taking +from his pocket a little square white envelope, addressed +in a childish hand to “Mr. Rexford Lyon, Allendale, West +Virginia, Care of Miss Pluma.” Rex laughed aloud, until the +tears started to his eyes, as they fell on the words “<i>Care of +Miss Pluma</i>,” heavily underlined in the lower corner.</p> +<p>“That is just like careless little romping Birdie,” he mused. +“She supposes, because <i>she</i> knows who <i>Miss Pluma</i> is, every +one else must certainly be aware of the same fact.”</p> +<p>He spread out the letter on his knee, trying hard to while +away time in perusing its pages.</p> +<p>Rex looked so fresh and cool and handsome in his white +linen suit, lying there under the shady trees that summer +morning, his dark curls resting on his white hand, and a smile +lighting up his pleasant face, it is not to be wondered at he +was just the kind of young fellow to win the love of young +romantic girls like Daisy and Pluma––the haughty young +heiress.</p> +<p>Slowly Rex read the letter through to the end. The morning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +stage whirled rapidly past him on its way to meet the early +train. Yet, all unconscious that it bore away from him his +treasure, he never once glanced up from the letter he was +reading.</p> +<p>Again Rex laughed aloud as he glanced it over, reading as +follows:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class='smcap'>Dear Brother Rex</span>,––We received the letter you wrote, +and the picture you sent with it, and my heart has been so +heavy ever since that I could not write to you because big tears +would fall on the page and blot it. Now, dear old Brother +Rex, don’t be angry at what your little Birdie is going to say. +Mamma says you are going to marry and bring home a wife, +and she showed me her picture, and said you was very much +in love with her, and I must be so too. But I can’t fall in +love with her, Brother Rex; indeed, I’ve tried very hard and I +can’t; don’t tell anybody, but I’m awfully afraid I sha’n’t like +her one bit. She looks stylish, and her name Pluma sounds +real stylish too, but she don’t look kind. I thought, perhaps, +if I told you I did not like her you might give her up and +come home. I forgot to tell you the blue room and the room +across the hall is being fixed up for you just lovely, and I am +to have your old one.</p> +<p>“P.S.––And we received a letter from Mr. Lester Stanwick, +too. He says he will be passing through here soon and wishes +to call. When are you coming home, Rex? Don’t bring any +one with you.</p> +<p class='ralign'>“Your loving little sister,<span class='rindent8'> </span><br /> +“<span class='smcap'>Birdie</span>.”<span class='rindent4'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>“There’s no fear of my bringing Pluma home now,” he +laughed, whistling a snatch of “The Pages’ Chorus.” “Birdie +won’t have anything to fear on that score. I do wish mother +hadn’t set my heart on my marrying Pluma. Parents make +a mistake in choosing whom their children shall marry and +whom they shall not. Love goes where it is sent.”</p> +<p>He looked at his watch again.</p> +<p>“By George!” he muttered, turning very pale upon seeing +another hour had slipped away, “I can not stand this a minute +longer. I <i>must</i> see what has happened to Daisy.”</p> +<p>With a nameless fear clutching at his heart––a dark, shadowy +fear––like the premonition of coming evil, Rex made his way +rapidly through the tangled underbrush, cutting across lots to +John Brooks’ cottage.</p> +<p>He had determined to call for Daisy upon some pretext. It +was rather a bold undertaking and might cause comment, still +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +Rex was reckless of all consequences; he <i>must</i> see Daisy at all +hazards; and when Rex made up his mind to do anything he +usually succeeded; he was as daring and courageous as he was +reckless and handsome.</p> +<p>Once, twice, thrice he knocked, receiving no answer to his +summons.</p> +<p>“That’s strange,” he mused, “exceedingly strange.”</p> +<p>Hardly knowing what prompted him to do it, Rex turned +the knob; it yielded to the touch, swinging slowly back on its +creaking hinges.</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” he ejaculated, gazing wildly about him +and as pale as death, “Daisy is gone and the cottage is empty!”</p> +<p>He leaned against the door-way, putting his hand to his brow +like one who had received a heavy blow; and the bare walls +seemed to take up the cry and echo, mockingly, “Gone!”</p> +<p>The blow was so sudden and unexpected he was completely +bewildered; his brain was in a whirl.</p> +<p>He saw a laborer crossing the cotton-fields and called to +him.</p> +<p>“I was looking for John Brooks,” said Rex. “I find the +cottage empty. Can you tell me where they have gone?”</p> +<p>“Gone!” echoed the man, surprisedly. “I don’t understand +it; I was passing the door a few hours since, just as the +stage drove off with John Brooks and Daisy. ‘Good-bye, +neighbor,’ he called out to me, ‘I am off on an extended business +trip. You must bring your wife over to see Septima; +she will be lonely, I’ll warrant.’ There was no sign of +him moving then. I––I don’t understand it.”</p> +<p>“You say he took Daisy with him,” asked Rex, with painful +eagerness. “Can you tell me where they went?”</p> +<p>The man shook his head and passed on. Rex was more +mystified than ever.</p> +<p>“What can it all mean?” he asked himself. “Surely,” +he cried, “Daisy––dear little innocent blue-eyed Daisy––could +not have meant to deceive me; yet why has she not told me?”</p> +<p>The hot blood mounted to his temples. Perhaps Daisy regretted +having married him and had fled from him. The +thought was so bitter it almost took his breath away. Rex +loved her so madly, so passionately, so blindly, he vowed to +himself he would search heaven and earth to find her. And +in that terrible hour the young husband tasted the first draught +of the cup of bitterness which he was to drain to the very +dregs.</p> +<p>Poor Rex! he little knew this was but the first stroke of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +Pluma Hurlhurst’s fatal revenge––to remove her rival from +her path that she might win him back to his old allegiance.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Early that morning there had been great bustle and stir in +the Brooks’ cottage. In vain Daisy had attempted to steal +quietly away into her own little room and write a hasty line to +Rex, which, if all other means failed her, she could send to +him by one of the men employed in the fields, begging him to +come to her at once. Septima would not leave her to herself +for a single instant. Even her writing-desk, which had stood +on the bureau in the corner for years, was gone. Poor little +Daisy cried out to herself––fate was against her.</p> +<p>“I should like to say good-bye to the old familiar scenes, +Septima,” she said, making a desperate effort to meet Rex by +some means. “I should like to see the old magnolia-tree +down in the glade just once before I go.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense,” replied Septima, sharply, a malicious smile +hovering about the corners of her mouth. “I guess the trees +and the flowers won’t wither and die of grief if you don’t bid +them good-bye; it’s too late now, anyhow. See, here is the +stage coming already,” she cried, glancing out of the window, +“and here comes John with his valise and umbrella. Make +haste, Daisy; where’s your gloves and satchel?”</p> +<p>For one brief instant Daisy stood irresolute; if she had only +dared cry out to them “I am a bride; it is cruel to send me +away from Rex,” what a world of misery might have been +spared her! but her lips were sealed.</p> +<p>“Well, well,” cried John Brooks, hurriedly entering the +room; “not ready yet, little girlie? We must be off at once +or we will miss the train.”</p> +<p>In vain Daisy protested brokenly she could not go, and the +agony in those blue uplifted eyes would have touched a heart +of stone. Still John Brooks believed it would be a sin to +comply with her request. Go to school she must, for Heaven +had intended a cultured mind should accompany so beautiful +a face. Half lifting, half carrying the slight figure in his +powerful arms, Daisy was borne, half fainting and sobbing as +though her heart would break, to the vehicle which stood in +waiting.</p> +<p>On through the fragrant stillness of that sunshiny summer +morning the jolting stage rolled rapidly on its way, crossing +the little bridge where she had lingered only the night before +with Rex, her husband; they would soon reach the alder bushes +that skirted the pool. The next bend in the road would bring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +her in sight of the magnolia-tree where Rex would be awaiting +her.</p> +<p>Ah, thank Heaven, it was not too late! she could fling out +her arms, and cry out: “Rex, my love, my darling, they are +bearing me from you! Save me, Rex, my darling, save me!”</p> +<p>John Brooks sat quietly by her side silently wondering what +had come over little Daisy––sweet, impulsive little Daisy––in a +single night. “She is only a child,” he muttered to himself, +“full of whims and caprices; crying her eyes out last week +because she could not go off to school, and now crying because +she’s got to go.”</p> +<p>Swiftly the stage rolled down the green sloping hill-side; in +another moment it had reached the alder bushes and gained +the curve of the road, and she saw Rex lying on the green +grass waiting for her. The sunlight drifting through the +magnolia blossoms fell upon his handsome, upturned, smiling +face and the dark curls pushed back from his white forehead. +“Rex! Rex!” she cried, wringing her white hands, but the +words died away on her white lips, making no sound. Then +the world seemed to close darkly around her, and poor little +Daisy, the unhappy girl-bride, fell back in the coach in a +deadly swoon.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII' id='CHAPTER_VII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +</div> +<p>“Poor little Daisy!” cried John Brooks, wiping away a +suspicious moisture from his eyes with his rough, toil-hardened +hand, “she takes it pretty hard now; but the time will come +when she will thank me for it. Heaven knows there’s nothing +in this world more valuable than an education; and she will +need it, poor little, motherless child!”</p> +<p>As the stage drove up before the station Daisy opened her +blue eyes with a sigh. “I can at least write to Rex at once,” +she thought, “and explain the whole matter to him.” Daisy +smiled as she thought Rex would be sure to follow on the very +next train.</p> +<p>John Brooks watched the smile and the flush of the rosy +face, and believed Daisy was beginning to feel more reconciled +about going to school.</p> +<p>“I hope we will get there by noon,” said John, anxiously, +taking the seat beside her on the crowded train. “If we missed +the train at the cross-roads it would be a serious calamity. I +should be obliged to send you on alone; for I <i>must</i> get to New +York by night, as I have some very important business to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +transact for the plantation which must be attended to at +once.”</p> +<p>“Alone!” echoed Daisy, tremblingly. “Why, Uncle John, +I was never away from home alone in my life!”</p> +<p>“That’s just the difficulty,” he answered, perplexedly. “I +have always guarded my little flower from the world’s cruel +blasts, and you are unused to the rough side of life.”</p> +<p>“Still, I <i>could</i> go on alone,” persisted Daisy, bravely.</p> +<p>John Brooks laughed outright.</p> +<p>“You would get lost at the first corner, my girlie! Then I +should have to fly around to these newspaper offices, advertising +for the recovery of a little country Daisy which was +either lost, strayed, or stolen. No, no, little one!” he cried; +“I would not trust you alone, a stranger in a great city. A +thousand ills might befall a young girl with a face like yours.”</p> +<p>“No one would know I was a stranger,” replied Daisy, innocently. +“I should simply inquire the way to Madame Whitney’s, +and follow the directions given me.”</p> +<p>“There! didn’t I tell you you could never find the way?” +laughed John until he was red in the face. “You suppose a +city is like our country lanes, eh?––where you tell a stranger: +‘Follow that path until you come to a sign-post, then that will +tell you which road leads to the village.’ Ha! ha! ha! Why, +my dear little Daisy, not one person in a hundred whom you +might meet ever heard of Madame Whitney! In cities people +don’t know their very neighbors personally. They are sure to +find out if there’s any scandal afloat about them––and that is +all they do know about them. You would have a lively time +of it finding Madame Whitney’s without your old uncle John +to pilot you through, I can tell you.”</p> +<p>Daisy’s last hope was nipped in the bud. She had told herself, +if she were left alone, she could send a telegram back at +once to Rex, and he would join her, and she would not have +to go to school––school, which would separate a girl-bride +from her handsome young husband, of whom she was fast +learning to be so fond.</p> +<p>“I could have sent you under the care of Mr. Stanwick,” +continued John, thoughtfully. “He started for the city yesterday––but +I did not receive Madame Whitney’s letter in +time.”</p> +<p>He did not notice, as he spoke, that the occupant in the seat +directly in front of them gave a perceptible start, drawing the +broad slouch hat he wore, which concealed his features so well, +still further over his face, while a cruel smile lingered for a +moment about the handsome mouth.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span></div> +<p>The stranger appeared deeply interested in the columns of +the paper he held before him; but in reality he was listening +attentively to the conversation going on behind him.</p> +<p>“I shall not lose sight of this pretty little girl,” said Lester +Stanwick to himself, for it was he. “No power on earth shall +save her from me. I shall win her from him––by fair means +or foul. It will be a glorious revenge!”</p> +<p>“Madame Whitney’s seminary is a very high-toned institution,” +continued John, reflectively; “and the young girls I +saw there wore no end of furbelows and ribbons; but I’ll warrant +for fresh, sweet beauty you’ll come out ahead of all of +’em, Pet.”</p> +<p>“You think so much of me, dear good old uncle,” cried +Daisy, gratefully. “I––I wonder if any one in the world could +ever––could ever care for me as––as you do?” whispered Daisy, +laying her soft, warm cheek against his rough hand.</p> +<p>“No one but a husband,” he responded, promptly. “But +you are too young to have such notions in your head yet +awhile. Attend to your books, and don’t think of beaus. Now +that we are on the subject, I might as well speak out what I’ve +had on my mind some time back. I don’t want my little +Daisy to fall in love with any of these strangers she happens to +meet. You are too young to know anything about love affairs. +You’ll never rightly understand it until it comes to you. I +must know all about the man who wants my little Daisy. +Whatever you do, little one, do upright and honestly. And, +above all, never deceive me. I have often heard of these +romantic young school-girls falling in love with handsome +strangers, and clandestine meetings following, ending in elopements; +but, mark my words, no good comes of these deceptions––forewarned +is forearmed. Daisy, you’ll always remember +my words, and say to yourself: ‘He knows what is best.’ +You will remember what I say, won’t you, Pet?”</p> +<p>He wondered why the fair, sweet face grew as pale as a +snow-drop, and the cold little fingers trembled in his clasp, +and the velvety eyes drooped beneath his earnest gaze.</p> +<p>“Yes,” whispered Daisy; “I shall remember what you +have said.”</p> +<p>In spite of her efforts to speak naturally and calmly the +sweet voice would tremble.</p> +<p>“Bal––ti––more!” shouted the brakeman, lustily. “Twenty +minutes for breakfast. Change cars for the north and west!”</p> +<p>“Ah, here we are!” cried John, hastily gathering up their +satchels and innumerable bundles. “We must make haste to +reach the uptown omnibus to get a seat, or we shall have to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +stand and cling to the strap all the way up. I’m an old traveler, +you see. There’s nothing like knowing the ins and +outs.”</p> +<p>“Have a coach uptown, sir? Take you to any part of the +city. Coach, sir?” cried innumerable hackmen, gathering +about them.</p> +<p>Daisy tightened her hold on John’s arm. She quite believed +they intended to pick her up and put her in the coach by main +force. One of them was actually walking off with her reticule.</p> +<p>“Hold there, young man,” cried John, quickly, recovering +the satchel. “Don’t make yourself uneasy on our account. +We would be pleased to ride in your conveyance if you don’t +charge anything. We have no money.”</p> +<p>The loquacious hackmen fell back as if by magic. Daisy +was blushing like a rose, terribly embarrassed. John Brooks +laughed long and heartily.</p> +<p>“That’s the quickest way in the world to rid yourself of +those torments,” he declared, enjoying his little joke hugely. +“Why, Daisy, if you had come on alone some of those chaps +would have spirited you away without even saying so much as +‘by your leave.’”</p> +<p>Mme. Whitney’s Seminary for Young Ladies was a magnificent +structure, situated in the suburbs of Baltimore. On +either side of the pebbled walk which led to the main entrance +were tall fountains tossing their rainbow-tinted sprays up to +the summer sunshine. The lawn in front was closely shaven, +and through the trees in the rear of the building could be seen +the broad rolling Chesapeake dancing and sparkling in the +sunlight. The reputation of this institution was second to +none. Young ladies were justly proud of being able to say +they finished their education at Mme. Whitney’s establishment.</p> +<p>As a natural consequence, the school was composed of the +<i>élite</i> of the South. Clang! clang! clang! sounded the great +bell from the belfry as Daisy, with a sinking, homesick feeling +stealing over her, walked slowly up the paved walk by John +Brooks’ side toward the imposing, aristocratic structure.</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy never forgot that first day at boarding-school; +how all the dainty young girls in their soft white muslins +glanced in surprise at her when Mme. Whitney brought +her into the school-room, but she could have forgiven them for +that if they had not laughed at her poor old uncle John, in his +plain country garb, and they giggled behind their handkerchiefs +when she clung to his neck and could not say good-bye +through her tears, but sunk down into her seat, leaning her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +head on her desk, bravely trying to keep back the pearly drops +that would fall.</p> +<p>When recess came Daisy did not leave her seat. She would +have given the world to have heard Rex’s voice just then; she +was beginning to realize how much his sheltering love was to +her. She would even have been heartily glad to have been +back in the little kitchen at the cottage, no matter how much +Septima scolded her.</p> +<p>All the girls here had the same haughty way of tossing their +heads and curling their lips and looking innumerable things +out of their eyes, which reminded Daisy so strongly of Pluma +Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>Most of the girls had left the school-room, dividing off into +groups and pairs here and there. Daisy sat watching them, +feeling wretchedly lonely. Suddenly a soft white hand was +laid lightly on her shoulder, and a sweet voice said:</p> +<p>“We have a recess of fifteen minutes, won’t you come out +into the grounds with me? I should be so pleased to have you +come.” The voice was so gentle, so coaxing, so sweet, Daisy +involuntarily glanced up at the face of the young girl bending +over her as she arose to accompany her. She put her arm +around Daisy’s waist, school-girl fashion, as they walked down +the lone halls and out to the green grassy lawn. “My name +is Sara Miller,” she said; “will you tell me yours?”</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks,” she answered, simply.</p> +<p>“What a pretty name!” cried her new-found friend, enthusiastically, +“and how well it suits you! Why, it is a little +poem in itself.”</p> +<p>Daisy flushed as rosy as the crimson geraniums near them, +remembering Rex, her own handsome Rex, had said the same +thing that morning he had carried her heavy basket to the +gates of Whitestone Hall––that morning when all the world +seemed to change as she glanced up into his merry brown +eyes.</p> +<p>“We are to be room-mates,” explained Sara, “and I know +I shall like you ever so much. Do you think you will like me?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Daisy. “I like you now.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Miss Sara, making a mock courtesy. +“I am going to love you with all my might, and if you don’t +love me you will be the most ungrateful creature in the world. +I know just how lonesome you must be,” continued Sara. “I +remember just how lonesome I was the first day I was away +from mamma, and when night set in and I was all alone, and +I knew I was securely locked in, I was actually thinking of +tearing the sheets of my bed into strips and making a rope of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +them, and letting myself down to the ground through the window, +and making for home as fast as I could. I knew I would +be brought back the next day, though,” laughed Sara. +“Mamma is so strict with me. I suppose yours is too?”</p> +<p>“I have no mother––or father,” answered Daisy. “All +my life I have lived with John Brooks and his sister Septima, +on the Hurlhurst Plantation. I call them aunt and uncle. +Septima has often told me no relationship at all existed between +us.”</p> +<p>“You are an orphan, then?” suggested the sympathetic +Sara. “Is there no one in all the world related to you?”</p> +<p>“Yes––no––o,” answered Daisy, confusedly, thinking of +Rex, her young husband, and of the dearest relationship in all +the world which existed between them.</p> +<p>“What a pity,” sighed Sara. “Well, Daisy,” she cried, +impulsively, throwing both her arms around her and giving +her a hearty kiss, “you and I will be all the world to each +other. I shall tell you all my secrets and you must tell me +yours. There’s some girls you can trust, and some you can’t. +If you tell them your secrets, the first time you have a spat +your secret is a secret no longer. Every girl in the school +knows all about it; of course you are sure to make up again. +But,” added Sara, with a wise expression, “after you are once +deceived, you can never trust them again.”</p> +<p>“I have never known many girls,” replied Daisy. “I do +not know how others do, but I’m sure you can always trust +my friendship.”</p> +<p>And the two girls sealed their compact with a kiss, just as +the great bell in the belfry rang, warning them they must be +at their lessons again––recess was over.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII' id='CHAPTER_VIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>In one of the private offices of Messrs. Tudor, Peck & Co., +the shrewd Baltimore detectives, stood Rex, waiting patiently +until the senior member of the firm should be at leisure.</p> +<p>“Now, my dear sir, I will attend you with pleasure,” said +Mr. Tudor, sealing and dispatching the note he had just finished, +and motioning Rex to a seat.</p> +<p>“I shall be pleased if you will permit me to light a +cigar,” said Rex, taking the seat indicated.</p> +<p>“Certainly, certainly; smoke, if you feel so inclined, by all +means,” replied the detective, watching with a puzzled twinkle +in his eye the fair, boyish face of his visitor. “No, thank +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +you,” he said, as Rex tendered him an Havana; “I never smoke +during business hours.”</p> +<p>“I wish to engage your services to find out the whereabouts +of––of––of––my wife,” said Rex, hesitatingly. “She has left +me––suddenly––she fled––on the very night of our marriage!”</p> +<p>It hurt Rex’s pride cruelly to make this admission, and a +painful flush crept up into the dark rings of hair lying on his +white forehead.</p> +<p>Mr. Tudor was decidedly amazed. He could not realize how +any sane young woman could leave so handsome a young fellow +as the one before him. In most cases the shoe was on the +other foot; but he was too thoroughly master of his business +to express surprise in his face. He merely said:</p> +<p>“Go on, sir; go on!”</p> +<p>And Rex did go on, never sparing himself in describing how +he urged Daisy to marry him on the night of the fête, and of +their parting, and the solemn promise to meet on the morrow, +and of his wild grief––more bitter than death––when he had +found the cottage empty.</p> +<p>“It reads like the page of a romance,” said Rex, with a +dreary smile, leaning his head on his white hand. “But I +must find her!” he cried, with energy. “I shall search the +world over for her. If it takes every cent of my fortune, I +shall find Daisy!”</p> +<p>Rex looked out of the window at the soft, fleecy clouds overhead, +little dreaming Daisy was watching those self-same +clouds, scarcely a stone’s throw from the very spot where he +sat, and at that moment he was nearer Daisy than he would +be for perhaps years again, for the strong hand of Fate was +slowly but surely drifting them asunder.</p> +<p>For some moments neither spoke.</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” said Mr. Tudor, breaking the silence, “there +was a previous lover in the case?”</p> +<p>“I am sure there was not!” said Rex, eagerly.</p> +<p>Still the idea was new to him. He adored Daisy with a +mad, idolatrous adoration, almost amounting to worship, and +a love so intense is susceptible to the poisonous breath of jealousy, +and jealousy ran in Rex’s veins. He could not endure +the thought of Daisy’s––his Daisy’s––eyes brightening or her +cheek flushing at the approach of a rival––that fair, flower-like +face, sweet and innocent as a child’s––Daisy, whom he so +madly loved.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Tudor, as Rex arose to depart, “I will +do all I can for you. Leave your address, please, in case I +should wish to communicate with you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></div> +<p>“I think I shall go back to Allendale, remaining there at +least a month or so. I have a strong conviction Daisy might +come back, or at least write to me there.”</p> +<p>Mr. Tudor jotted down the address, feeling actually sorry +for the handsome young husband clinging to such a frail straw +of hope. In his own mind, long before Rex had concluded +his story, he had settled his opinion––that from some cause the +young wife had fled from him with some rival, bitterly repenting +her mad, hasty marriage.</p> +<p>“I have great faith in your acknowledged ability,” said +Rex, grasping Mr. Tudor’s outstretched hand. “I shall rest +my hopes upon your finding Daisy. I can not, will not, believe +she is false. I would as soon think of the light of heaven +playing me false as my sweet little love!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The dark mantle of night had folded its dusky wings over +the inmates of the seminary. All the lights were out in the +young ladies’ rooms––as the nine-o’clock call, “All lights +out!” had been called some ten minutes before––all the lights +save one, flickering, dim, and uncertain, from Daisy’s window.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear!” cried Daisy, laying her pink cheek down on +the letter she was writing to Rex, “I feel as though I could do +something <i>very</i> desperate to get away from here––and––and––back +to Rex. Poor fellow!” she sighed, “I wonder what he +thought, as the hours rolled by and I did not come? Of course +he went over to the cottage,” she mused, “and Septima must +have told him where I had gone. Rex will surely come for me +to-morrow,” she told herself, with a sweet, shy blush.</p> +<p>She read and reread the letter her trembling little hands +had penned with many a heart-flutter. It was a shy, sweet +little letter, beginning with “Dear Mr. Rex,” and ending +with, “Yours sincerely, Daisy.” It was just such a dear, +timid letter as many a pure, fresh-hearted loving young girl +would write, brimful of the love which filled her guileless heart +for her handsome, debonair Rex––with many allusions to the +secret between them which weighed so heavily on her heart, +sealing her lips for his dear sake.</p> +<p>After sealing and directing her precious letter, and placing +it in the letter-bag which hung at the lower end of the corridor, +Daisy hurried back to her own apartment and crept +softly into her little white bed, beside Sara, and was soon fast +asleep, dreaming of Rex and a dark, haughty, scornful face +falling between them and the sunshine––the cold, mocking +face of Pluma Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>Mme. Whitney, as was her custom, always looked over the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +out-going mail early in the morning, sealing the letters of which +she approved, and returning, with a severe reprimand, those +which did not come up to the standard of her ideas.</p> +<p>“What is this?” she cried, in amazement, turning the letter +Daisy had written in her hand. “Why, I declare, it is +actually sealed!” Without the least compunction she broke +the seal, grimly scanning its contents from beginning to end. +If there was anything under the sun the madame abominated +it was love-letters.</p> +<p>It was an established fact that no tender <i>billets-doux</i> found +their way from the academy; the argus-eyed madame was too +watchful for that.</p> +<p>With a lowering brow, she gave the bell-rope a hasty pull.</p> +<p>“Jenkins,” she said to the servant answering her summons, +“send Miss Brooks to me here at once!”</p> +<p>“Poor little thing!” cried the sympathetic Jenkins to herself. +“I wonder what in the world is amiss now? There’s +fire in the madame’s eye. I hope she don’t intend to scold +poor little Daisy Brooks.” Jenkins had taken a violent fancy +to the sweet-faced, golden-haired, timid young stranger.</p> +<p>“It must be something terrible, I’m sure!” cried Sara, +when she heard the madame had sent for Daisy; while poor +Daisy’s hand trembled so––she could scarcely tell why––that +she could hardly bind up the golden curls that fell down to +her waist in a wavy, shining sheen.</p> +<p>Daisy never once dreamed her letter was the cause of her +unexpected summons, until she entered Mme. Whitney’s presence +and saw it opened––yes, opened––her own sacred, loving +letter to Rex––in her hand.</p> +<p>Daisy was impulsive, and her first thought was to grasp her +precious letter and flee to her own room. How dared the madame +open the precious letter she had intended only for Rex’s +eyes!</p> +<p>“Miss Brooks,” began madame, impressively, “I suppose +I am right in believing this epistle belongs to you?”</p> +<p>A great lump rose in Daisy’s throat.</p> +<p>“Yes, madame,” answered Daisy, raising her dark-blue +eyes pleadingly to the stern face before her.</p> +<p>“And may I ask by what right you dared violate the rules +and regulations of this establishment by sending a sealed letter +to––a man? Your guardian strictly informed me you had no +correspondents whatever, and I find this is a––I blush to confess +it––actually a love-letter. What have you to say in reference +to your folly, Miss Brooks?”</p> +<p>“I’m sure I don’t know,” sobbed Daisy.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></div> +<p>“You don’t know?” repeated madame, scornfully. “Not +a very satisfactory explanation. Well, Miss Brooks, I have +fully determined what steps I shall take in the matter. I +shall read this letter this morning before the whole school; it +will afford me an excellent opportunity to point out the horrible +depths to which young girls are plunged by allowing their +minds to wander from their books to such thoughts as are here +expressed. What do you mean by this secret to which you +allude so often?” she asked, suddenly.</p> +<p>“Please do not ask me, madame,” sobbed Daisy; “I can +not tell you––indeed I can not. I dare not!”</p> +<p>An alarming thought occurred to madame.</p> +<p>“Speak, girl!” she cried, hoarsely, grasping her firmly by +the shoulder. “I must know the meaning of this secret +which is so appalling. You fear to reveal it! Does your +guardian know of it?”</p> +<p>“No––o!” wailed Daisy; “I could not tell him. I must +keep the secret.”</p> +<p>Poor little innocent Daisy! her own words had convicted her +beyond all pardon in the eyes of shrewd, suspicious Mme. +Whitney, who guessed, as is usually the case, wide of the +mark, as to the cause of the secret Daisy dare not to reveal to +her guardian or herself.</p> +<p>“My duty is plain in this case,” said madame. “I shall +read this as a terrible warning to the young ladies of this institution; +then I will send for Mr. John Brooks, your guardian, +and place this letter in his hands.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, madame, in pity’s name, no!” sobbed Daisy, +wildly, kneeling imploringly at her feet, her heart beating +tumultuously, and her hands locked convulsively together. +“Do not, madame, I pray you; anything but that; he would +cast me out of his heart and home, and I––I could not go to +Rex, you see.”</p> +<p>But madame did not see. She laughed a little hard, +metallic laugh that grated, oh, so cruelly, on Daisy’s sensitive +nerves.</p> +<p>When one woman’s suspicions are aroused against another, +Heaven help the suspected one; there is little mercy shown her.</p> +<p>“Man’s inhumanity to man” is nothing compared to woman’s +inhumanity to woman.</p> +<p>Mme. Whitney had discovered a capital way to score a hit +in the direction of morality.</p> +<p>“No,” she said, laying the letter down on the table before +her. “Arise from your knees, Miss Brooks. Your prayers +are useless. I think this will be a life-long lesson to you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span></div> +<p>“Oh, madame, for the love of Heaven!” cried Daisy, rocking +herself to and fro, “spare me, I beseech you! Can nothing +alter your purpose?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said madame, reflectively, “I may not be quite +so severe with you if you will confess, unreservedly, the whole +truth concerning this terrible secret, and what this young man +Rex is to you.”</p> +<p>“I can not,” wailed Daisy, “I can not. Oh, my heart is +breaking, yet I dare not.”</p> +<p>“Very well,” said madame, rising, indicating the conversation +was at an end, “I shall not press you further on the subject. +I will excuse you now, Miss Brooks. You may retire to +your room.”</p> +<p>Still Daisy rocked herself to and fro on her knees at her +feet. Suddenly a daring thought occurred to her. The letter +which had caused her such bitter woe lay on the table almost +within her very grasp––the letter, every line of which breathed +of her pure, sacred love for Rex––her Rex––whom she dared +not even claim. She could imagine madame commenting +upon every word and sentence, ridiculing those tender expressions +which had been such rapturous joy to her hungry little +heart as she had penned them. And, last of all, and far the +most bitter thought, how dear old John Brooks would turn his +honest eyes upon her tell-tale face, demanding to know what +the secret was––the secret which she had promised her young +husband she would not reveal, come what would. If his face +should grow white and stern, and those lips, which had blessed, +praised, and petted, but never scolded her––if those lips should +curse her, she would die then and there at his feet. In an instant +she had resolved upon a wild, hazardous plan. Quick +as a flash of lightning Daisy sprung to her feet and tore the +coveted letter from madame’s detaining grasp; the door stood +open, and with the fleetness of a hunted deer she flew down +the corridor, never stopping for breath until she had gained +the very water’s edge.</p> +<p>Mme. Whitney gave a loud shriek and actually fainted, and +the attendant, who hurried to the scene, caught but a glimpse +of a white, terrified, beautiful face, and a cloud of flying golden +hair. No one in that establishment ever gazed upon the face +of Daisy Brooks again!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX' id='CHAPTER_IX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +</div> +<p>“Where is Miss Brooks?” cried Mme. Whitney, excitedly, +upon opening her eyes. “Jenkins,” she cried, motioning to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +the attendant who stood nearest her, “see that Miss Brooks is +detained in her own room under lock and key until I am at +liberty to attend to her case.”</p> +<p>The servants looked at one another in blank amazement. +No one dared tell her Daisy had fled.</p> +<p>The torn envelope, which Daisy had neglected to gain possession +of, lay at her feet.</p> +<p>With a curious smile Mme. Whitney smoothed it out carefully, +and placed it carefully away in her private desk.</p> +<p>“Rex Lyon,” she mused, knitting her brow. “Ah, yes, +that was the name, I believe. He must certainly be the one. +Daisy Brooks shall suffer keenly for this outrage,” cried the +madame, grinding her teeth with impotent rage. “I shall +drag her pride down to the very dust beneath my feet. How +dare the little rebel defy my orders? I shall have her removed +to the belfry-room; a night or two there will humble her pride, +I dare say,” fumed the madame, pacing up and down the +room. “I have brought worse tempers than hers into subjection; +still I never dreamed the little minx would dare openly +defy <i>me</i> in that manner. I shall keep her in the belfry-room, +under lock and key, until she asks my pardon on her bended +knees; and what is more, I shall wrest the secret from her––the +secret she has defied me to discover.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>On sped Daisy, as swift as the wind, crushing the fatal letter +in her bosom, until she stood at the very edge of the broad, +glittering Chesapeake. The rosy-gold rays of the rising sun +lighted up the waves with a thousand arrowy sparkles like a +vast sea of glittering, waving gold. Daisy looked over her +shoulder, noting the dark forms hurrying to and fro.</p> +<p>“They are searching for me,” she said, “but I will never +go back to them––never!”</p> +<p>She saw a man’s form hurrying toward her. At that moment +she beheld, moored in the shadow of a clump of alders +at her very feet, a small boat rocking to and fro with the tide. +Daisy had a little boat of her own at home; she knew how to +use the oars.</p> +<p>“They will never think of looking for me out on the water,” +she cried, triumphantly, and quickly untying it, she sprung +into the little skiff, and seizing the oars, with a vigorous stroke +the little shell shot rapidly out into the shimmering water, +Daisy never once pausing in her mad, impetuous flight until +the dim line of the shore was almost indistinguishable from the +blue arching dome of the horizon. “There,” she cried, flushed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +and excited, leaning on the oars; “no one could possibly think +of searching for me out here.”</p> +<p>Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes danced like stars, +while the freshening breeze blew her bright shining hair to +and fro.</p> +<p>Many a passing fisherman cast admiring glances at the +charming little fairy, so sweet and so daring, out all alone on +the smiling, treacherous, dancing waves so far away from the +shore. But if Daisy saw them, she never heeded them.</p> +<p>“I shall stay here until it is quite dark,” she said to herself; +“they will have ceased to look for me by that time. +I can reach the shore quite unobserved, and watch for Sara to +get my hat and sacque; and then”––a rosy flush stole up to +the rings of her golden hair as she thought what she would do +then––“I shall go straight back to Rex––my husband!”</p> +<p>She knew John Brooks would not return home for some +time to come, and she would not go back to Septima. She +made up her mind she would certainly go to Rex. She would +wait at the depot, and, if Rex did not come in on the early +train, she would go back at once to Allendale. Her purse, +with twenty dollars in it––which seemed quite a fortune to +Daisy––was luckily in her pocket, together with half of an +apple and a biscuit. The healthful exercise of rowing, together +with the fresh, cool breeze, gave Daisy a hearty appetite, and +the apple and biscuit afforded her quite a pleasant lunch.</p> +<p>Poor Daisy! The pretty little girl-bride had no more +thought of danger than a child. She had no premonition that +every moment the little boat, drifting rapidly along with the +tide, was bearing her rapidly onward toward death and destruction.</p> +<p>Daisy paid little heed to the dark rolling clouds that were +slowly obscuring the brilliant sunshine, or the swirl and dash +of the waves that were rocking her little boat so restlessly to +and fro. The hours seemed to slip heedlessly by her. The +soft gloaming seemed to fall about her swiftly and without +warning.</p> +<p>“I must turn my boat about at once!” cried Daisy, in +alarm. “I am quite a long way from the shore!”</p> +<p>At that moment the distant rumbling roar of thunder sounded +dismally over the leaden-gray, white-capped water; and the +wind, rising instantly into a fierce gale, hurled the dark storm-clouds +across the sky, blotting the lurid glow of sunset and +mantling the heavens above her in its dusky folds.</p> +<p>Daisy was brave of heart, but in the face of such sudden and +unlooked-for danger her courage failed her. The pretty rose-bloom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +died away from her face, and her beautiful blue eyes +expanded wide with terror. She caught her breath with a sob, +and, seizing the oar with two soft, childish hands, made a desperate +attempt to turn the boat. The current resisted her +weak effort, snapping the oar in twain like a slender twig and +whirling it from her grasp.</p> +<p>“Rex! Rex!” she cried out, piteously, stretching out her +arms, “save me! Oh, I am lost––lost! Heaven pity me!”</p> +<p>The night had fallen swiftly around her. Out, alone, on the +wild, pitiless, treacherous waves––alone with the storm and +the darkness!</p> +<p>The storm had now commenced in earnest, beating furiously +against the little boat, and lashing the mad waves into seething +foam as they dashed high above the terrified girl. No +sound could be heard above the wild warring of the elements––the +thunder’s roar, the furious lashing of the waves and the +white, radiant lightning blazing across the vast expanse of +water, making the scene sublime in its terrible grandeur.</p> +<p>“Rex! my love, my life!” she cried, in the intense agony +of despair, “you will never know how well I loved you! I +have faced death rather than betray the sweet, sad secret––I +am your wife!”</p> +<p>Was it the wild flashing of the lightning, or was it a red +light she saw swinging to and fro, each moment drawing +rapidly nearer and nearer? Heaven be praised! it was a barge +of some kind; help was within her reach.</p> +<p>“Help!” cried Daisy, faintly. “Help! I am alone out on +the water!” she held out her arms toward the huge vessel +which loomed up darkly before her, but the terrified voice was +drowned by the fierce beating of the storm.</p> +<p>Suddenly her little boat spun round and round, the swift +water was drawing her directly in the path of the barge; another +moment and it would be upon her; she beat the air with +her white hands, gazing with frozen horror at the fatal lights +drawing nearer and nearer.</p> +<p>“Rex, my love, good-bye!” she wailed, sinking down in the +bottom of the boat as one end of the barge struck it with tremendous +force.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Leaning over the railing, evidently unmindful of the fierce +fury of the storm that raged around him, stood a young man, +gazing abstractedly over the wild dashing waves. A dark smile +played about the corners of his mouth, and his restless eyes +wore a pleased expression, as though his thoughts were in keeping +with the wild, warring elements.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span></div> +<p>Suddenly, through the terrible roar of the storm, he heard a +piteous appeal for help, and the voice seemed to die away over +the angry, muttering waves. He leaned over the railing +breathless with excitement. The thunder crashed almost incessantly, +and there came a stunning bolt, followed by a blinding +blaze of lightning. In that one instant he had seen a +white, childish face, framed in a mass of floating golden hair, +turned toward him.</p> +<p>One instant more and she would be swept beneath the ponderous +wheel, beyond all mortal power of help; then the dark, +hungry waters closed cruelly over her, but in that one instantaneous +glance the man’s face had turned deadly pale.</p> +<p>“Great God!” he shrieked, hoarsely, “it is Daisy Brooks!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_X' id='CHAPTER_X'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> +</div> +<p>On the evening which followed the one just described in our +last chapter, Pluma Hurlhurst sat in her luxuriant boudoir of +rose and gold, deeply absorbed in the three letters which she +held in her lap. To one was appended the name of Septima +Brooks, one was from Rex’s mother, and the last––and by far +the most important one––bore the signature of Lester Stanwick.</p> +<p>Once, twice, thrice she perused it, each time with growing +interest, the glittering light deepening in her dark, flashing +eyes, and the red lips curling in a scornful smile.</p> +<p>“This is capital!” she cried, exultingly; “even better than +I had planned. I could not see my way clear before, but now +everything is clear sailing.” She crossed over to the mirror, +looking long and earnestly at the superb figure reflected there. +“I am fair to look upon,” she cried, bitterly. “Why can not +Rex love me?”</p> +<p>Ah! she was fair to look upon, standing beneath the softened +glow of the overhanging chandelier, in her dress of gold +brocade, with a pomegranate blossom on her bosom, and a diamond +spray flashing from the dark, glossy curls, magnificently +beautiful.</p> +<p>“I was so sure of Rex,” she said, bitterly; “if any one had +said to me, ‘Rex prefers your overseer’s niece, Daisy Brooks, +with her baby face and pink-and-white beauty,’ I would have +laughed them to scorn. Prefers her to me, the haughty heiress +of Whitestone Hall, for whose love, or even smile, men +have sued in vain! I have managed the whole affair very cleverly!” +she mused. “John Brooks does not return before the +coming spring, and Septima is removed from my path most +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +effectually, and if Lester Stanwick manages his part successfully, +I shall have little to fear from Daisy Brooks! How +clever Lester was to learn Rex had been to the Detective +Agency! How he must have loved that girl!” she cried, hotly, +with a darkening brow. “Ah, Rex!” she whispered, +softly (and for an instant the hard look died out of her face), +“no one shall take you from me. I would rather look +upon your face cold in death, and know no one else could claim +you, than see you smile lovingly upon a rival. There is no +torture under heaven so bitter to endure as the pangs of a love +unreturned!” she cried, fiercely. She threw open the window +and leaned far out into the radiant starlight, as the great clock +pealed the hour of seven. “Rex has received my note,” she +said, “with the one from his mother inclosed. Surely he will +not refuse my request. He will come, if only through politeness!” +Again she laughed, that low, mocking laugh peculiar +to her, as she heard the peal of the bell. “It is Rex,” she +whispered, clasping her hands over her beating heart. “To-night +I will sow the first seeds of distrust in your heart, and +when they take root you shall despise Daisy Brooks a thousand-fold +more than you love her now. She shall feel the keen +thrust of a rival’s bitter vengeance!”</p> +<p>Casting a last lingering glance (so woman-like!) at the perfect +face the mirror reflected, to give her confidence in herself +for the coming ordeal, Pluma Hurlhurst glided down to the +parlor, where Rex awaited her.</p> +<p>It would have been hard to believe the proud, willful, polished +young heiress could lend herself to a plot so dark and so +cruel as the one she was at that moment revolving in her fertile +brain.</p> +<p>Rex was standing at the open window, his handsome head +leaning wearily against the casement. His face was turned +partially toward her, and Pluma could scarcely repress the cry +of astonishment that rose to her lips as she saw how pale and +haggard he looked in the softened light. She knew but too +well the cause.</p> +<p>He was quite unaware of Pluma’s presence until a soft, +white, jeweled hand was laid lightly on his arm, and a low, +musical voice whispered, “I am so glad you have come, Rex,” +close to his elbow.</p> +<p>They had parted under peculiar circumstances. He could +fancy her at that moment kneeling to him, under the glare of +the lamp-light, confessing her love for him, and denouncing +poor little clinging Daisy with such bitter scorn. His present +position was certainly an embarrassing one to Rex.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></div> +<p>“I am here in accordance with your request, Miss Hurlhurst,” +he said, simply, bowing coldly over the white hand +that would cling to his arm.</p> +<p>“You are very kind,” she said, sweetly, “to forget that +unpleasant little episode that happened at the fête, and come +to-night. I believe I should never have sent for you,” she +added, archly, smiling up into his face, “had it not been at +the urgent request of your mother, Rex.”</p> +<p>Pluma hesitated. Rex bit his lip in annoyance, but he was +too courteous to openly express his thoughts; he merely bowed +again. He meant Pluma should understand all thoughts of love +or tenderness must forever more be a dead letter between +them.</p> +<p>“My mother!” he repeated, wonderingly; “pardon me, I +do not understand.”</p> +<p>For answer she drew his mother’s letter from her bosom and +placed it in his hands.</p> +<p>He ran his eyes quickly over the page. The postscript +seemed to enlighten him.</p> +<p>“The course of true love never runs smooth,” it ran, “and +I beseech you, Pluma dear, if anything should ever happen, +any shadow fall upon your love, I beseech you send for Rex +and place this letter in his hands. It would not be unwomanly, +Pluma, because I, his mother, so earnestly request it; for, on +your love for each other hangs my hopes of happiness. Rex +is impulsive and willful, but he will respect his mother’s +wishes.”</p> +<p>No thought of treachery ever crossed Rex’s mind as he read +the lines before him; he never once dreamed the ingeniously +worded postscript had been so cleverly imitated and added by +Pluma’s own hand. It never occurred to him for an instant +to doubt the sincerity of the words he read, when he knew +how dearly his mother loved the proud, haughty heiress before +him.</p> +<p>“I heard you were going away, Rex,” she said, softly, +“and I––I could not let you go so, and break my own heart.”</p> +<p>“In one sense, I am glad you sent for me,” said Rex, +quietly ignoring her last remark. “I shall be much pleased +to renew our friendship, Miss Pluma, for I need your friendship––nay, +more, I need your sympathy and advice more than +I can express. I have always endeavored to be frank with you, +Pluma,” he said, kindly. “I have never spoken words which +might lead you to believe I loved you.”</p> +<p>He saw her face grow white under his earnest gaze and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +white lace on her bosom rise and fall convulsively, yet she +made him no answer.</p> +<p>“Please permit me to tell you why, Pluma,” he said, taking +her hand and leading her to a sofa, taking a seat by her +side. “I could not,” he continued, “in justice to either you +or myself; for I never knew what love was,” he said, softly, +“until the night of the fête.” Again he paused; but, as no +answer was vouchsafed him, he went on: “I never knew what +love meant until I met Daisy––little Daisy Brooks.”</p> +<p>“Rex!” cried Pluma, starting to her feet, “you know not +what you say––surely you do not know! I would have warned +you, but you would not listen. I saw you drifting toward a +yawning chasm; I stretched out my arms to save you, but you +would not heed me. You are a stranger to the people around +here, Rex, or they would have warned you. Sin is never so +alluring as in the guise of a beautiful woman. It is not too +late yet. Forget Daisy Brooks; she is not a fit companion for +noble Rex Lyon, or pure enough to kiss an honest man’s +lips.”</p> +<p>“For God’s sake, Miss Hurlhurst, what do you mean?” +cried Rex, slowly rising from his seat and facing her, pale as +death. “In Heaven’s name, explain the accusations you have +just uttered, or I shall go mad! If a man had uttered those +words, I would have––”</p> +<p>The words died away on his lips; he remembered he was +talking to a woman. Rex’s eyes fairly glowed with rage as he +turned on his heel and strode rapidly up and down the room.</p> +<p>“Rex,” said Pluma, softly advancing a step toward him, +“it always grieves a true woman to admit the error of a fallen +sister––they would shield her if such a thing were possible.”</p> +<p>“I do not believe it,” retorted Rex, impetuously. “Women +seem to take a keen delight in slandering one another, as far +as I can see. But you might as well tell me yonder moon was +treacherous and vile as to tell me Daisy Brooks was aught but +sweet and pure––you could not force me to believe it.”</p> +<p>“I do not attempt to force you to believe it. I have told +you the truth, as a loving sister might have done. None are +so blind as those who will not see,” she said, toying with the +jewels upon her white fingers.</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks is as pure as yonder lily,” cried Rex, “and +I love her as I love my soul!”</p> +<p>His quivering, impassioned voice thrilled Pluma to her +heart’s core, and she felt a keen regret that this wealth of love +was withheld from her own hungry heart. Rex had never appeared +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +so noble, so handsome, so well worth winning, in her +eyes, as at that moment.</p> +<p>“I am sorry for you, Rex,” sobbed Pluma, artfully burying +her face in her lace kerchief, “because she can never return +your love; she does not love you, Rex.”</p> +<p>“Yes, she does love me,” cried Rex. “I have settled +it beyond a doubt.”</p> +<p>“She has settled it beyond a doubt––is not that what you +mean, Rex?” she asked, looking him squarely in the face, +with a peculiar glitter in her sparkling dark eyes.</p> +<p>“There is something you are keeping from me, Pluma,” +cried Rex, seizing both of her hands, and gazing anxiously into +the false, fair, smiling, treacherous face. “You know where +Daisy has gone––in Heaven’s name, tell me! I can not endure +the suspense––do not torture me, Pluma! I will forget you +have spoken unkindly of poor little Daisy if you will only tell +me where she has gone.”</p> +<p>“Sit down, Rex,” she said, soothingly; “I will not dare +tell you while you look at me with such a gleaming light in +your eyes. Promise not to interrupt me to the end.”</p> +<p>A nameless dread was clutching at his heart-strings. What +could she mean? he asked himself, confusedly. What did this +foul mystery mean? He must know, or he would go mad!</p> +<p>“You may speak out unreservedly, Miss Pluma,” he said, +hoarsely. “I give you my word, as a gentleman, I shall not +interrupt you, even though your words should cause me a bitter +heart-pang.”</p> +<p>He stood before her, his arms folded across his breast, yet +no pang of remorse crept into Pluma Hurlhurst’s relentless +heart for the cruel blow she was about to deal him.</p> +<p>“I must begin at the time of the lawn fête,” she said. +“That morning a woman begged to see me, sobbing so piteously +I could not refuse her an audience. No power of words +could portray the sad story of suffering and wrong she poured +into my ears, of a niece––beautiful, young, passionate, and +willful––and of her prayers and useless expostulations, and of +a handsome, dissolute lover to whom the girl was passionately +attached, and of elopements she had frustrated, alas! more +than once. Ah! how shall I say it!––the lover was not a marrying +man.”</p> +<p>Pluma stopped short, and hid her face again in her kerchief +as if in utter confusion.</p> +<p>“Go on––go on!” cried Rex, hoarsely.</p> +<p>“‘Lend me money,’ cried the woman, ‘that I may protect +the girl by sending her off to school at once. Kind +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +lady, she is young, like you, and I beg you on my knees!’ +I gave the woman the required amount, and the girl was taken +to school the very next day. But the end was not there. The +lover followed the girl––there must have been a preconcerted +plan between them––and on the morning after she had entered +school she fled from it––fled with her lover. That lover was +Lester Stanwick––gay, fascinating, perfidious Lester––whom +you know but too well. Can you not guess who the girl was, +Rex?”</p> +<p>The dark eyes regarding her were frozen with horror, his +white lips moved, but no sound issued from them. She leaned +nearer to him, her dark, perfumed hair swept across his face +as she whispered, with startling effect:</p> +<p>“The girl was Daisy Brooks, and she is at this moment in +company with her lover! Heaven pity you, Rex; you must +learn to forget her.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI' id='CHAPTER_XI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +</div> +<p>When Daisy Brooks opened her eyes, she found herself +lying on a white bed, and in a strange apartment which she +never remembered having seen before. For one brief instant +she quite imagined the terrible ordeal through which she had +passed was but a dream. Then it all came back to her with +cruel distinctness.</p> +<p>“Where am I?” she cried, struggling up to a sitting posture, +and putting back the tangled golden hair from her face. +“How came I here? Who saved me from the terrible dark +water?”</p> +<p>“I did,” answered a young man, rising from his seat by the +open window. “I saved your life at the risk of my own. +Look up into my face, Daisy, and see if you do not remember +me.”</p> +<p>She lifted her blue eyes to the dark, handsome, smiling face +before her. Yes, she had seen that face before, but she could +not remember where.</p> +<p>He laughed, disclosing his handsome white teeth.</p> +<p>“You can not guess, eh?” he said. “Then it is certainly +evident I did not make much of an impression upon you. I +am disappointed. I will not keep you in suspense, however. +We met at Whitestone Hall, on the night of the lawn fête, and +my name is Lester Stanwick.”</p> +<p>Ah, she <i>did</i> remember him, standing beneath a waving +palm-tree, his bold, dark eyes following her every motion, +while she was waltzing with Rex.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></div> +<p>He saw the flash of recognition in her eyes, and the blush +that mantled her fair, sweet face.</p> +<p>“I am very grateful to you, sir, for saving me. But won’t +you take me home, please? I don’t want to go back to Madame +Whitney’s.”</p> +<p>“Of course not,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, “when +you left it in such a remarkable manner as running away.”</p> +<p>“How did you know I ran away?” asked Daisy, flushing +hotly.</p> +<p>“Madame Whitney has advertised for you,” he responded, +promptly.</p> +<p>Although he well knew what he uttered was a deliberate +falsehood, he merely guessed the little wild bird had grown +weary of the restraint, and had flown away.</p> +<p>“Did she do that?” asked Daisy, thoroughly alarmed, her +great blue eyes dilating with fear. “Oh, Mr. Stanwick, what +shall I do? I do not want to go back. I would sooner die first.”</p> +<p>“There is no occasion for you to do either,” he replied. +“You are in good hands. Stay here until the storm blows +over. In all probability the madame has sent detectives out in +all directions searching for you.”</p> +<p>Daisy was so young, so unsuspecting, so artless, and knew so +little of the ways of the world or its intriguing people that +she quite believed his assertion.</p> +<p>“Oh, what shall I do?” she sobbed, covering her face with +her hands. “Oh, I <i>must</i> go back to Uncle John, and––to––to––”</p> +<p>Stanwick had no idea she meant Rex. He took it for granted +she meant John Brooks and Septima.</p> +<p>“It is quite uncertain when John Brooks returns to Allendale,” +he said; “and I suppose you are aware his sister has +also left the place––gone, no one knows whither––the Brookses’ +cottage on the brow of the hill stands empty.”</p> +<p>“Gone!” cried Daisy, catching her breath swift and hard, +“did you say, sir? Aunt Septima has gone––no one lives in +the cottage?” Poor Daisy quite believed she was losing her +senses.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Stanwick, smothering a low, malicious laugh, +“that is what I said; but I am quite surprised that it is news +to you. You are all alone in the world, you see. Of course +you could not go back to Allendale. You can do no better +than stay in your present quarters for at least a week or so, +until you fully recover from your mad frolic on the water and +gain a little strength.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></div> +<p>“Where am I?” asked Daisy, “and how did I get here? +and who lives here?”</p> +<p>“One question at a time, if you please,” laughed Stanwick, +gazing admiringly at the beautiful, questioning, eager face.</p> +<p>“I suppose,” he began, with provoking coolness, “you +have been filling that little head of yours with romantic ideas +of running away from school, and sailing far out to sea, and +straight into the arms of some handsome hero who would save +you, and would carry you off to some castle, and turn out to +be a prince in disguise! That’s the way they usually turn out, +isn’t it? But you found the theory did not work very well in +real life, and your little romance came near costing you your +life––eh, Miss Daisy? As for the second question, I rescued +you, just in the nick of time, by jumping into the turbulent +waves and bearing you out of harm’s way and keeping that +little romantic head of yours above water until the barge could +be stopped, and you were then brought on board. I recognized +you at once,” he continued; “and to prevent suspicion +and inquiry, which would have been sure to follow, I claimed +you––as my wife! Do not be alarmed,” he said, as a sharp, +horrified cry rose to the red lips. “I simply did that in order +to protect you from being returned at once in bitter disgrace +to Madame Whitney’s. Not knowing what else to do with you +when the boat landed, I brought you here, and here you have +been ever since, quite unconscious up to date.”</p> +<p>“Was it last night you brought me here?” asked Daisy.</p> +<p>“You are not good at guessing. You have been here two +nights and two days.”</p> +<p>“But who lives here?” persisted Daisy. “Is this your +house?”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, no,” laughed Stanwick. “Upon my honor, +you are not very complimentary to my taste,” he said, glancing +around the meagerly furnished apartment. “As near as +I can understand it, the house is occupied by three grim old +maids. Each looks to be the twin of the other. This was the +first shelter I could find, and I had carried you all the way +from the boat in my arms, and under the circumstances, after +much consulting, they at last agreed to allow you to remain +here. Now you have the whole story in a nutshell.”</p> +<p>“Why did they not send to Septima to come to me?” she +asked presently.</p> +<p>“Because they thought you were with your best protector––your +husband.”</p> +<p>“Did you tell them that here, too?” asked Daisy, growing +white and ill with a dizzy horror. “Oh, Mr. Stanwick, send +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +for them at once, and tell them it is not so, or I must!” she +added, desperately.</p> +<p>“You must do nothing of the kind, you silly child. Do +you suppose they would have sheltered you for a single instant +if they had not believed you were my wife? You do not know +the ways of the world. Believe me, it was the only course I +could pursue, in that awkward dilemma, without bringing disgrace +and detection upon you.”</p> +<p>As if in answer to the question that was trembling upon +Daisy’s lips, he continued:</p> +<p>“I am stopping at a boarding-place some little distance +from here. This is not Baltimore, but a little station some +sixty miles from there. When you are well and strong you +may go where you please, although I frankly own the situation +is by no means an unpleasant one for me. I would be willing +to stay here always––with you.”</p> +<p>“Sir!” cried Daisy, flushing as red as the climbing roses +against the window, her blue eyes blazing up with sudden fire, +“do you mean to insult me?”</p> +<p>“By no means,” responded Lester Stanwick, eagerly. “Indeed, +I respect and honor you too much for that. Why, I +risked my life to save yours, and shielded your honor with my +name. Had I been your husband in very truth I could not +have done more.”</p> +<p>Daisy covered her face with her hands.</p> +<p>“I thank you very much for saving me,” she sobbed, “but +won’t you please go away now and leave me to myself?”</p> +<p><i>Roué</i> and villain as Lester Stanwick was, he could not help +feeling touched by the innocence and beauty of little Daisy, +and from that instant he loved her with a wild, absorbing, passionate +love, and he made a vow, then and there, that he would +win her.</p> +<p>From their boyhood up Rex and Lester had been rivals. At +college Rex had carried off the honors with flying colors. +Pluma Hurlhurst, the wealthy heiress, had chosen Rex in +preference to himself. He stood little chance with bright-eyed +maidens compared with handsome, careless, winning Rex Lyon.</p> +<p>Quite unobserved, he had witnessed the meeting between +Rex and Daisy at the fountain, and how tenderly he clasped +her in his arms as they waltzed together in the mellow light, +to the delicious strains of the “Blue Danube,” and knowing +Rex as well as he did, he knew for the first time in life Rex’s +heart was touched.</p> +<p>“It would be a glorious revenge,” Stanwick had muttered +to himself, “if I could win her from him.” Then a sordid +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +motive of revenge alone prompted him––now he was beginning +to experience the sweet thrillings of awakened love himself. +Yes, he had learned to love Daisy for her own sweet self.</p> +<p>He smiled as he thought of the last words Pluma Hurlhurst +had said to him: “Revenge is sweet, Lester, when love is +turned to bitter hatred. Help me to drag Rex Lyon’s pride as +low as he has this night dragged mine, and you shall have my +hand as your reward. My father is an invalid––he can not +live much longer––then you will be master of Whitestone +Hall.” As he had walked down the broad gravel path, running +his eye over the vast plantation stretching afar on all +sides, like a field of snow, as the moonlight fell upon the waving +cotton, he owned to himself it was a fair domain well worth +the winning.</p> +<p>But as he stood there, gazing silently down upon little +Daisy’s face––how strange it was––he would have given up +twenty such inheritances for the hope of making sweet little +Daisy Brooks his wife.</p> +<p>It was well for Daisy Brooks he little dreamed of the great +barrier which lay between them, shutting him out completely +from all thoughts of love in Daisy’s romantic heart.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII' id='CHAPTER_XII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +</div> +<p>“Please go away,” sobbed Daisy. “Leave me to myself, +and I will get up.”</p> +<p>“Very well,” said Stanwick, involuntarily raising her little +white hands courteously to his lips; “and remember, I warn +you, for your own sake, not to dispute the assertion I have +made––that you are my wife.”</p> +<p>“Why?” asked Daisy, wistfully. “They will forgive me +when I tell them how it all came about.”</p> +<p>“You do not know women’s ways,” he replied. “They +would hand you over at once to the authorities; you would bring +disgrace and ruin upon your own head, and bitter shame to +John Brooks’s heart. I know him well enough to believe he +would never forgive you. On the other hand, when you feel +well enough to depart, you can simply say you are going away +with your husband. No one will think of detaining you; you +will be free as the wind to go where you will. It will cost you +but a few words. Remember, there are occasions when it is +necessary to prevaricate in order to prevent greater evils––this +is one of them.”</p> +<p>Daisy could not dispute this specious logic, and she suffered +herself to be persuaded against her will and better judgment. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +She was dreadfully homesick, poor little soul! and to go back +to Allendale, to Rex, was the one wish of her heart. But +would he clasp her in his arms if a shadow of disgrace blotted +her fair name? She would go back to him and kneel at his +feet, and tell him why she had left Mme. Whitney’s. She +certainly meant to tell him of all that followed, and, with +her little, warm cheek pressed close to his, ask him if she had +done right.</p> +<p>At that moment the door of an adjoining room opened, and +Lester observed the three ladies standing in a row in the door-way. +He knew that three pairs of eyes were regarding him +intently through as many pairs of blue glasses.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, my little wife,” he said, raising his voice for +their benefit; “I’m off now. I shall see you again to-morrow;” +and, before Daisy had the least idea of his intentions, +he had pressed a kiss upon her rosy lips and was gone.</p> +<p>The three ladies quickly advanced to the couch upon which +Daisy reclined.</p> +<p>“We are very glad to find you are so much better this +morning,” they exclaimed, all in a breath. “Your husband +has been almost demented about you, my dear.”</p> +<p>They wondered why the white face on the pillow turned so +pink, then faded to a dead white, and why the tear-drops +started to her beautiful blue eyes.</p> +<p>“I was telling my sisters,” pursued one of the ladies, softly, +“you were so young to be married––hardly more than a child. +How old are you, my dear––not more than sixteen, I suppose?”</p> +<p>“Sixteen and a few months,” answered Daisy.</p> +<p>“How long have you been married, my dear?” questioned +another of the sisters.</p> +<p>A great sob rose in Daisy’s throat as she remembered it was +just a week that very day since she had stood in the dim old +parlor at the rectory, while Rex clasped her hands, his handsome, +smiling eyes gazing so lovingly down upon her, while the +old minister spoke the words that bound them for life to each +other. It almost seemed to Daisy that long years had intervened, +she had passed through so much since then.</p> +<p>“Just a week to-day, madame,” she made answer.</p> +<p>“Why, you are a bride, then,” they all chorused. “Ah! +that accounts for your husband’s great anxiety about you. +We all agreed we had never seen a husband more devoted!”</p> +<p>Daisy hid her face in the pillow. She thought she would go +mad upon being so cruelly misunderstood. Oh! if she had +only dared throw herself into their arms and sob out her heartaches +on their bosoms. Yes, she was a bride, but the most +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +pitifully homesick, weary, disheartened little girl-bride that +ever the sun shone on in the wide, wild world.</p> +<p>They assisted Daisy to arise, brushing out her long, tangled, +golden curls, declaring to one another the pretty little creature +looked more like a merry, rosy-cheeked school-girl than a little +bride-wife, in her pink-and-white dotted muslin, which +they had in the meantime done up for her with their own +hands.</p> +<p>They wondered, too, why she never asked for her husband, +and she looked almost ready to faint when they spoke of him.</p> +<p>“There seems to be something of a mystery here,” remarked +one of the sisters when the trio were alone. “If that child is +a bride, she is certainly not a happy one. I do not like to +judge a fellow-creature––Heaven forbid! but I am sorely afraid +all is not right with her. Twice this afternoon, entering the +room quietly, I have found her lying face downward on the +sofa, crying as if her heart would break! I am sorely puzzled!”</p> +<p>And the flame of suspicion once lighted was not easily extinguished +in the hearts of the curious spinsters.</p> +<p>“‘Won’t you tell me your sorrow, my dear?’ I said.</p> +<p>“‘No, no; I dare not!’ she replied.</p> +<p>“‘Will you not confide in me, Mrs. Stanwick?’ I asked.</p> +<p>“She started up wildly, throwing her arms about my neck.</p> +<p>“‘Won’t you please call me Daisy?’ she sobbed, piteously; +‘just Daisy––nothing else.’</p> +<p>“‘Certainly, my dear, if you wish it,’ I replied. ‘There is +one question I would like to ask you, Daisy––you have told me +your mother is dead?’</p> +<p>“‘Yes,’ she said, leaning her golden head against the window, +and watching the white clouds overhead in the blue sky––‘my +poor, dear mother is dead!’</p> +<p>“‘Then will you answer me truthfully the question I am +about to ask you, Daisy, remembering your mother up in +heaven hears you.’</p> +<p>“She raised her blue eyes to mine.</p> +<p>“‘I shall answer truthfully any question you may put to +me,’ she said; ‘if––if––it is not about Mr. Stanwick.’</p> +<p>“‘It is about yourself, Daisy,’ I said, gravely. ‘Tell me +truthfully, child, are you really a wife?’</p> +<p>“She caught her breath with a hard, gasping sound; but +her blue eyes met mine unflinchingly.</p> +<p>“‘Yes, madame, I am, in the sight of God and man; but +I am such an unhappy one. I can not tell you why. My +heart is breaking. I want to go back to Allendale!’</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></div> +<p>“‘Is that where you live, Daisy?’</p> +<p>“‘Yes,’ she said; ‘I am going to start to-morrow morning.’"</p> +<p>“How strange!” echoed the two sisters.</p> +<p>“The strangest part of the affair is yet to come. The little +creature drew from her pocket a twenty-dollar bill.</p> +<p>“‘You have been kind and good to me,’ she said. I must +take enough to carry me back to Allendale. You shall have +all the rest, madame.’</p> +<p>“‘Put your money back into your pocket, Daisy,’ I replied. +‘Your husband has already paid your bill. He begged me to +accept it in advance on the night you came.’</p> +<p>“She gave a great start, and a flood of hot color rushed over +her face.</p> +<p>“‘I––I––did not know,’ she said, faintly, ‘how very good +Mr. Stanwick has been to me.’”</p> +<p>The three sisters looked at one another in silent wonder over +the rims of their spectacles and shook their heads ominously.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Dear reader, we must return at this period to Rex––poor, +broken-hearted Rex––whom we left in the company of Pluma +Hurlhurst in the spacious parlor of Whitestone Hall.</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks is at this moment with Lester Stanwick! +You must learn to forget her, Rex,” she repeated, slowly.</p> +<p>A low cry escaped from Rex’s lips, and he recoiled from her +as though she had struck him a heavy blow. His heart seemed +fairly stifled in his bosom, and he trembled in every limb with +repressed excitement.</p> +<p>“Here is a letter from Madame Whitney,” she continued. +“Read it for yourself, Rex. You see, she says: ‘Daisy fled. +It has been since ascertained she went to Elmwood, a station +some sixty miles from here, where she now is, at the cottage +of the Burton sisters, in company with her lover. I shall not +attempt to claim her––her retribution must come from another +source.’”</p> +<p>The words seemed to stand out in letters of fire.</p> +<p>“Oh, my little love,” he cried, “there must be some terrible +mistake! My God! my God! there must be some horrible +mistake––some foul conspiracy against you, my little sweetheart, +my darling love!”</p> +<p>He rose to his feet with a deep-drawn sigh, his teeth shut +close, his heart beating with great strangling throbs of pain. +Strong and brave as Rex was, this trouble was almost more +than he could bear.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></div> +<p>“Where are you going, Rex?” said Pluma, laying a detaining +hand upon his arm.</p> +<p>“I am going to Elmwood,” he cried, bitterly, “to prove +this accusation is a cruel falsehood. Daisy has no lover; she +is as sweet and pure as Heaven itself! I was mad to doubt +her for a single instant.”</p> +<p>“Judge for yourself, Rex––seeing is believing,” said Pluma, +maliciously, a smoldering vengeance burning in her flashing +eyes, and a cold, cruel smile flitting across her face, while she +murmured under her breath: “Go, fond, foolish lover; your +fool’s paradise will be rudely shattered––ay, your hopes crushed +worse than mine are now, for your lips can not wear a smile +like mine when your heart is breaking. Good-bye, Rex,” she +said, “and remember, in the hour when sorrow strikes you +keenest, turn to me; my friendship is true, and shall never fail +you.”</p> +<p>Rex bowed coldly and turned away; his heart was too sick for +empty words, and the heavy-hearted young man, who slowly +walked down the graveled path away from Whitestone Hall in +the moonlight, was as little like the gay, handsome Rex of one +short week ago as could well be imagined.</p> +<p>There was the scent of roses and honeysuckles in the soft +wind; and some sweet-voiced bird awakened from sleep, and +fancying it was day, swung to and fro amid the green foliage, +filling the night with melody. The pitying stars shone down +upon him from the moonlighted heavens; but the still, solemn +beauty of the night was lost upon Rex. He regretted––oh! so +bitterly––that he had parted from his sweet little girl-bride, +fearing his mother’s scornful anger, or through a sense of mistaken +duty.</p> +<p>“Had they but known little Daisy is my wife, they would +have known how impossible was their accusation that she was +with Lester Stanwick.”</p> +<p>He shuddered at the very thought of such a possibility.</p> +<p>The thought of Daisy, his little girl-bride, being sent to +school amused him.</p> +<p>“Poor little robin!” he murmured. “No wonder she flew +from her bondage when she found the cage-door open! How +pleased the little gypsy will be to see me!” he mused. “I +will clasp the dear little runaway in my arms, and never let +her leave me again! Mother could not help loving my little +Daisy if she were once to see her, and sister Birdie would take +to her at once.”</p> +<p>The next morning broke bright and clear; the sunshine +drifted through the green foliage of the trees, and crimson-breasted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +robins sung their sweetest songs in the swaying +boughs of the blossoming magnolias; pansies and buttercups +gemmed the distant hill-slope, and nature’s fountain––a merry, +babbling brook––danced joyously through the clover banks. +No cloud was in the fair, blue, smiling heavens; no voice of +nature warned poor little Daisy, as she stood at the open window +drinking in the pure, sweet beauty of the morning of the +dark clouds which were gathering over her innocent head, and +of the storm which was so soon to burst upon her in all its +fury. Daisy turned away from the window with a little sigh. +She did not see a handsome, stalwart figure hurrying down the +hill-side toward the cottage. How her heart would have +throbbed if she had only known Rex (for it was he) was so +near her! With a strangely beating heart he advanced toward +the little wicket gate, at which stood one of the sisters, busily +engaged pruning her rose-bushes.</p> +<p>“Can you tell me, madame, where I can find the Misses +Burton’s cottage?” he asked, courteously lifting his hat.</p> +<p>“This is the Burton cottage,” she answered, “and I am +Ruth Burton. What can I do for you?”</p> +<p>“I would like to see Daisy Brooks, if you please. She is +here, I believe?” he said, questioningly. “May I come in?”</p> +<p>Rex’s handsome, boyish face and winning smile won their +way straight to the old lady’s heart at once.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you are the young lady’s brother, sir? There is +evidently some mistake, however, as the young lady’s name is +Stanwick––Daisy Stanwick. Her husband, Lester Stanwick––I +believe that is the name––is also in Elmwood.”</p> +<p>All the color died out of Rex’s handsome face and the light +from his brown eyes. He leaned heavily against the gate-post. +The words seemed shrieked on the air and muttered on the +breeze.</p> +<p>“Daisy is <i>not</i> his wife! My God, madame!” he cried, +hoarsely, “she <i>could not</i> be!”</p> +<p>“It is very true,” replied the old lady, softly. “I have her +own words for it. There may be some mistake, as you say,” +she said, soothingly, noting the death-like despair that settled +over the noble face. “She is a pretty, fair, winsome little +creature, blue-eyed, and curling golden hair, and lives at +Allendale. She is certainly married. I will call her. She +shall tell you so herself. Daisy––Mrs. Stanwick––come here, +dear,” she called.</p> +<p>“I am coming, Miss Ruth,” answered a sweet, bird-like +voice, which pierced poor Rex’s heart to the very core as a girlish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +little figure bounded through the open door-way, out into +the brilliant sunshine.</p> +<p>“God pity me!” cried Rex, staggering forward. “It <i>is</i> +Daisy––my wife!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII' id='CHAPTER_XIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>Rex had hoped against hope.</p> +<p>“Daisy!” he cried, holding out his arms to her with a +yearning, passionate cry. “My God! tell me it is false––you +are <i>not</i> here with Stanwick––or I shall go mad! Daisy, my +dear little sweetheart, my little love, why don’t you speak?” +he cried, clasping her close to his heart and covering her face +and hair and hands with passionate, rapturous kisses.</p> +<p>Daisy struggled out of his embrace, with a low, broken sob, +flinging herself on her knees at his feet with a sharp cry.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” said the old lady, bending over her and smoothing +back the golden hair from the lovely anguished face, “tell +him the truth, dear. You are here with Mr. Stanwick; is it +not so?”</p> +<p>The sudden weight of sorrow that had fallen upon poor, +hapless Daisy seemed to paralyze her very senses. The sunshine +seemed blotted out, and the light of heaven to grow +dark around her.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she cried, despairingly; and it almost seemed to +Daisy another voice had spoken with her lips.</p> +<p>“This Mr. Stanwick claims to be your husband?” asked the +old lady, solemnly.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she cried out again, in agony, “but, Rex, I––I––”</p> +<p>The words died away on her white lips, and the sound died +away in her throat. She saw him recoil from her with a look +of white, frozen horror on his face which gave place to stern, +bitter wrath. Slowly and sadly he put her clinging arms +away from him, folding his arms across his breast with that +terrible look upon his face such as a hero’s face wears when he +has heard, unflinchingly, his death sentence––the calm of +terrible despair.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” he said, proudly, “I have trusted you blindly, +for I loved you madly, passionately. I would as soon believe +the fair smiling heavens that bend above us false as you whom +I loved so madly and so well. I was mad to bind you with +such cruel, irksome bonds when your heart was not mine but +another’s. My dream of love is shattered now. You have +broken my heart and ruined and blighted my life. God forgive +you, Daisy, for I never can! I give you back your freedom; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +I release you from your vows; I can not curse you––I +have loved you too well for that; I cast you from my heart as +I cast you from my life; farewell, Daisy––farewell forever!”</p> +<p>She tried to speak, but her tongue cleaved to the roof of her +mouth. Oh, pitying Heaven, if she could only have cried out +to you and the angels to bear witness and proclaim her innocence! +The strength to move hand or foot seemed suddenly to +have left her. She tried hard, oh! so hard, to speak, but no +sound issued from her white lips. She felt as one in a horrible +trance, fearfully, terribly conscious of all that transpired +around her, yet denied the power to move even a muscle to +defend herself.</p> +<p>“Have you anything to say to me, Daisy?” he asked, +mournfully, turning from her to depart.</p> +<p>The woful, terrified gaze of the blue eyes deepened pitifully, +but she spoke no word, and Rex turned from her––turned +from the girl-bride whom he loved so madly, with a bursting, +broken heart, more bitter to bear than death itself––left her +alone with the pitying sunlight falling upon her golden hair, +and her white face turned up to heaven, silently praying to +God that she might die then and there.</p> +<p>Oh, Father above, pity her! She had no mother’s gentle +voice to guide her, no father’s strong breast to weep upon, no +sister’s soothing presence. She was so young and so pitifully +lonely, and Rex had drifted out of her life forever, believing +her––oh, bitterest of thoughts!––believing her false and sinful.</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy was ignorant of the ways of the world; +but a dim realization of the full import of the terrible accusation +brought against her forced its way to her troubled brain.</p> +<p>She only realized––Rex––her darling Rex, had gone out of +her life forever.</p> +<p>Daisy flung herself face downward in the long, cool, waving +green grass where Rex had left her.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” called Miss Burton, softly, “it is all over; come +into the house, my dear.”</p> +<p>But she turned from her with a shuddering gasp.</p> +<p>“In the name of pity, leave me to myself,” she sobbed; +“it is the greatest kindness you can do me.”</p> +<p>And the poor old lady who had wrought so much sorrow +unwittingly in those two severed lives, walked slowly back to +the cottage, with tears in her eyes, strongly impressed there +must be some dark mystery in the young girl’s life who was +sobbing her heart out in the green grass yonder; and she did +just what almost any other person would have done under the +same circumstances––sent immediately for Lester Stanwick. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +He answered the summons at once, listening with intense +interest while the aged spinster briefly related all that had +transpired; but through oversight or excitement she quite forgot +to mention Rex had called Daisy his wife.</p> +<p>“Curse him!” he muttered, under his breath, “I––I believe +the girl actually cares for him.”</p> +<p>Then he went out to Daisy, lying so still and lifeless among +the pink clover and waving grass.</p> +<p>Poor Daisy! Poor, desperate, lonely, struggling child! All +this cruel load of sorrow, crushing her girlish heart, and +blighting her young life, and she so innocent, so entirely +blameless, yet such a plaything of fate.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” he said, bending over her and lifting the slight +form in his arms, “they tell me some one has been troubling +you. Who has dared annoy you? Trust in me, Daisy. What +is the matter?”</p> +<p>Lester Stanwick never forgot the white, pitiful face that was +raised to his.</p> +<p>“I want to die,” she sobbed. “Oh, why did you not leave +me to die in the dark water? it was so cruel of you to save +me.”</p> +<p>“Do you want to know why I risked my life to save you, +Daisy? Does not my every word and glance tell you why?” +The bold glance in his eyes spoke volumes. “Have you not +guessed that I love you, Daisy?”</p> +<p>“Oh, please do not talk to me in that way, Mr. Stanwick,” +she cried, starting to her feet in wild alarm. “Indeed you +must not,” she stammered.</p> +<p>“Why not?” he demanded, a merciless smile stirring beneath +his heavy mustache. “I consider that you belong to +me. I mean to make you my wife in very truth.”</p> +<p>Daisy threw up her hands in a gesture of terror heart-breaking +to see, shrinking away from him in quivering horror, +her sweet face ashen pale.</p> +<p>“Oh, go away, go away!” she cried out. “I am growing +afraid of you. I could never marry you, and I would not if I +could. I shall always be grateful to you for what you have +done for me, but, oh, go away, and leave me now, for my +trouble is greater than I can bear!”</p> +<p>“You would not if you could,” he repeated, coolly, smiling +so strangely her blood seemed to change to ice in her veins. +“I thank you sincerely for your appreciation of me. I did +not dream, however, your aversion to me was so deeply rooted. +That makes little difference, however. I shall make you my +wife this very day all the same; business, urgent business, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +calls me away from Elmwood to-day. I shall take you with +me as my wife.”</p> +<p>She heard the cruel words like one in a dream.</p> +<p>“Rex! Rex!” she sobbed, under her breath. Suddenly she +remembered Rex had left her––she was never to look upon his +face again. He had left her to the cold mercies of a cruel +world. Poor little Daisy––the unhappy, heart-broken girl-bride––sat +there wondering what else could happen to her. +“God has shut me out from His mercy,” she cried; “there is +nothing for me to do but to die.”</p> +<p>“I am a desperate man, Daisy,” pursued Stanwick, slowly. +“My will is my law. The treatment you receive at my +hands depends entirely upon yourself––you will not dare defy +me!” His eyes fairly glowed with a strange fire that appalled +her as she met his passionate glance.</p> +<p>Then Daisy lifted up her golden head with the first defiance +she had ever shown, the deathly pallor deepening on her fair, +sweet, flower-like face, and the look of a hunted deer at bay in +the beautiful velvety agonized eyes, as she answered:</p> +<p>“I refuse to marry you, Mr. Stanwick. Please go away +and leave me in peace.”</p> +<p>He laughed mockingly.</p> +<p>“I shall leave you for the present, my little sweetheart,” +he said, “but I shall return in exactly fifteen minutes. Hold +yourself in readiness to receive me then; I shall not come +alone, but bring with me a minister, who will be prepared to +marry us. I warn you not to attempt to run away,” he said, +interpreting aright the startled glance she cast about her. +“In yonder lane stands a trusty sentinel to see that you do +not leave this house. You have been guarded thus since you +entered this house; knowing your proclivity to escape impending +difficulties, I have prepared accordingly. You can not escape +your fate, my little wild flower!”</p> +<p>“No minister would marry an unwilling bride––he could +not. I would fling myself at his feet and tell him all, crying +out I was––I was––”</p> +<p>“You will do nothing of the kind,” he interrupted, a hard, +resolute look settling on his face. “I would have preferred +winning you by fair means, if possible; if you make it impossible +I shall be forced to a desperate measure. I had not intended +adopting such stringent measures, except in an extreme +case. Permit me to explain what I shall do to prevent you +from making the slightest outcry.” As he spoke he drew +from his pocket a small revolver heavily inlaid with pearl and +silver. “I shall simply hold this toy to your pretty forehead +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +to prevent a scene. The minister will be none the wiser––he +is blind? Do you think,” he continued, slowly, “that I am +the man to give up a thing I have set my heart upon for a +childish whim?”</p> +<p>“Believe me,” cried Daisy, earnestly, “it is no childish +whim. Oh, Mr. Stanwick, I want to be grateful to you––why +will you torture me until I hate you?”</p> +<p>“I will marry you this very day, Daisy Brooks, whether +you hate me or love me. I have done my best to gain your +love. It will come in time; I can wait for it.”</p> +<p>“You will never make me love you,” cried Daisy, covering +her face with her hands; “do not hope it––and the more you +talk to me the less I like you. I wish you would go away.”</p> +<p>“I shall not despair,” said Stanwick, with a confident +smile. “I like things which I find it hard to obtain––that +was always one of my characteristics––and I never liked you so +well as I like you now, in your defiant anger, and feel more +determined than ever to make you my own.”</p> +<p>Suddenly a new thought occurred to him as he was about to +turn from her.</p> +<p>“Why, how stupid of me!” he cried. “I could not bring +the parson here, for they think you my wife already. I must +change my plan materially by taking you to the parsonage. +We can go from here directly to the station. I shall return in +exactly fifteen minutes with a conveyance. Remember, I warn +you to make no outcry for protection in the meantime. If +you do I shall say you inherited your mother’s malady. I am +well acquainted with your history, you see.” He kissed his +finger-tips to her carelessly. “<i>Au revoir</i>, my love, but not +farewell,” he said, lightly, “until we meet to be parted nevermore,” +and, with a quick, springy step Lester Stanwick walked +rapidly down the clover-bordered path on his fatal errand.</p> +<p>In the distance the little babbling brook sung to her of peace +and rest beneath its curling, limpid waters.</p> +<p>“Oh, mother, mother,” she cried, “what was the dark +sorrow that tortured your poor brain, till it drove you mad––ay, +mad––ending in death and despair? Why did you leave +your little Daisy here to suffer so? I feel such a throbbing in +my own poor brain––but I must fly anywhere, anywhere, to +escape this new sorrow. God has forgotten me.” She took +one step forward in a blind, groping, uncertain way. “My +last ray of hope has died out,” she cried as the memory of +his cruel words came slowly back to her, so mockingly uttered––“the +minister would be none the wiser––he is blind.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV' id='CHAPTER_XIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +</div> +<p>When Lester Stanwick returned to the cottage he found +that quite an unexpected turn of events had transpired. Miss +Burton had gone out to Daisy––she lay so still and lifeless in +the long green grass.</p> +<p>“Heaven bless me!” she cried, in alarm, raising her voice +to a pitch that brought both of the sisters quickly to her side. +“Matilda, go at once and fetch the doctor. See, this child is +ill, her cheeks are burning scarlet and her eyes are like stars.”</p> +<p>At that opportune moment they espied the doctor’s carriage +proceeding leisurely along the road.</p> +<p>“Dear me, how lucky,” cried Ruth, “Doctor West should +happen along just now. Go to the gate, quick, Matilda, and +ask him to stop.”</p> +<p>The keen eyes of the doctor, however, had observed the +figure lying on the grass and the frantic movements of the +three old ladies bending over it, and drew rein of his own accord +to see what was the matter.</p> +<p>He drew back with a cry of surprise as his eyes rested on the +beautiful flushed face of the young girl lying among the blue +harebells at his feet.</p> +<p>“I am afraid this is a serious case,” he said, thoughtfully, +placing his cool hand on her burning forehead; “the child has +all the symptoms of brain fever in its worst form, brought on +probably through some great excitement.” The three ladies +looked at one another meaningly. “She must be taken into +the house and put to bed at once,” he continued, authoritatively, +lifting the slight figure in his strong arms, and gazing +pityingly down upon the beautiful flushed face framed in its +sheen of golden hair resting against his broad shoulders.</p> +<p>The doctor was young and unmarried and impressible; and +the strangest sensation he had ever experienced thrilled +through his heart as the blue, flaring eyes met his and the +trembling red lips incoherently beseeched him to save her, hide +her somewhere, anywhere, before the fifteen minutes were up.</p> +<p>A low muttered curse burst from Stanwick’s lips upon his +return, as he took in the situation at a single glance.</p> +<p>As Daisy’s eyes fell upon Stanwick’s face she uttered a +piteous little cry:</p> +<p>“Save me from him––save me!” she said, hysterically, +growing rapidly so alarmingly worse that Stanwick was forced +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +to leave the room, motioning the doctor to follow him into the +hall.</p> +<p>“The young lady is my wife,” he said, with unflinching +assurance, uttering the cruel falsehood, “and we intend leaving +Elmwood to-day. I am in an uncomfortable dilemma. I +must go, yet I can not leave my––my wife. She must be removed, +doctor; can you not help me to arrange it in some +way?”</p> +<p>“No, sir,” cried the doctor, emphatically; “she can not be +removed. As her physician, I certainly would not give my +consent to such a proceeding; her very life would pay the +forfeit.”</p> +<p>For a few moments Lester Stanwick paced up and down the +hall lost in deep thought; his lips were firmly set, and there +was a determined gleam in his restless black eyes. Suddenly +he stopped short directly before the doctor, who stood regarding +him with no very agreeable expression in his honest gray +eyes.</p> +<p>“How long will it be before the crisis is past––that is, how +long will it be before she is able to be removed?”</p> +<p>“Not under three weeks,” replied the doctor, determinedly.</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” he ejaculated, sharply. “Why, I shall +have to––” He bit his lip savagely, as if he had been on the +point of disclosing some guarded secret. “Fate is against +me,” he said, “in more ways than one; these things can not +be avoided, I suppose. Well, doctor, as I am forced to leave +to-day I shall leave her in your charge. I will return in exactly +two weeks. She has brain fever, you say?”</p> +<p>The doctor nodded.</p> +<p>“You assure me she can not leave her bed for two weeks to +come?” he continued, anxiously.</p> +<p>“I can safely promise that,” replied the doctor, wondering +at the strange, satisfied smile that flitted like a meteor over his +companion’s face for one brief instant.</p> +<p>“This will defray her expenses in the meantime,” he said, +putting a few crisp bank-notes into the doctor’s hand. “See +that she has every luxury.”</p> +<p>He was about to re-enter the room where Daisy lay, but the +doctor held him back.</p> +<p>“I should advise you to remain away for the present,” he +said, “your presence produces such an unpleasant effect upon +her. Wait until she sleeps.”</p> +<p>“I have often thought it so strange people in delirium +shrink so from those they love best; I can not understand it,” +said Stanwick, with an odd, forced laugh. “As you are the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +doctor, I suppose your orders must be obeyed, however. If +the fever should happen to take an unfavorable turn in the +meantime, please drop a line to my address, ‘care of Miss +Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, Allendale,’” he said, +extending his card. “It will be forwarded to me promptly, and +I can come on at once.”</p> +<p>Again the doctor nodded, putting the card safely away in +his wallet, and soon after Lester Stanwick took his departure, +roundly cursing his luck, yet congratulating himself upon the +fact that Daisy could not leave Elmwood––he could rest content +on that score.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the three venerable sisters and the young doctor +were watching anxiously at Daisy’s bedside.</p> +<p>“Oh, my poor little dear––my pretty little dear!” sobbed +Ruth, caressing the burning little hands that clung to her so +tightly.</p> +<p>“Won’t you hide me?” pleaded Daisy, laying her hot cheek +against the wrinkled hand that held hers. “Hide me, please, +just as if I were your own child; I have no mother, you +know.”</p> +<p>“God help the pretty, innocent darling!” cried the doctor, +turning hastily away to hide the suspicious moisture that +gathered in his eyes. “No one is going to harm you, little +one,” he said, soothingly; “no one shall annoy you.”</p> +<p>“Was it so great a sin? He would not let me explain. He +has gone out of my life!” she wailed, pathetically, putting +back the golden rings of hair from her flushed face. “Rex! +Rex!” she sobbed, incoherently, “I shall die––or, worse, I +shall go mad, if you do not come back to me!”</p> +<p>The three ladies looked at one another questioningly, in +alarm.</p> +<p>“You must not mind the strange ravings of a person in +delirium,” said the doctor, curtly; “they are liable to imagine +and say all sorts of nonsense. Pay no attention to what she +says, my dear ladies; don’t disturb her with questions. That +poor little brain needs absolute rest; every nerve seems to have +been strained to its utmost.”</p> +<p>After leaving the proper medicines and giving minute instructions +as to how and when it should be administered, Dr. +West took his departure, with a strange, vague uneasiness at +his heart.</p> +<p>“Pshaw!” he muttered to himself, as he drove briskly along +the shadowy road, yet seeing none of its beauty, “how +strange it is these young girls will fall in love and marry such +fellows as that!” he mused. “There is something about his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +face that I don’t like; he is a scoundrel, and I’ll bet my life +on it!”</p> +<p>The doctor brought his fist down on his knee with such a +resounding blow that poor old Dobbin broke into a gallop. +But, drive as fast he would, he could not forget the sweet, +childish face that had taken such a strong hold upon his fancy. +The trembling red lips and pleading blue eyes haunted him all +the morning, as though they held some secret they would fain +have whispered.</p> +<p>All the night long Daisy clung to the hands that held hers, +begging and praying her not to leave her alone, until the poor +old lady was quite overcome by the fatigue of continued watching +beside her couch. Rest or sleep seemed to have fled from +Daisy’s bright, restless eyes.</p> +<p>“Don’t go away,” she cried; “everybody goes away. I do +not belong to any one. I am all––all––alone,” she would sigh, +drearily.</p> +<p>Again she fancied she was with Rex, standing beneath the +magnolia boughs in the sunshine; again, she was clinging to +his arm––while some cruel woman insulted her––sobbing pitifully +upon his breast; again, she was parting from him at the +gate, asking him if what they had done was right; then she +was in some school-room, begging piteously for some cruel +letter; then out on the waves in the storm and the on-coming +darkness of night.</p> +<p>The sisters relieved one another at regular intervals. They +had ceased to listen to her pathetic little appeals for help, or +the wild cries of agony that burst from the red feverish lips +as she started up from her slumbers with stifled sobs, moaning +out that the time was flying; that she must escape anywhere, +anywhere, while there were still fifteen minutes left her.</p> +<p>She never once mentioned Stanwick’s name, or Septima’s, +but called incessantly for Rex and poor old Uncle John.</p> +<p>“Who in the world do you suppose Rex is?” said Matilda, +thoughtfully. “That name is continually on her lips––the +last word she utters when she closes her eyes, the first word to +cross her lips when she awakes. That must certainly be the +handsome young fellow she met at the gate. If he is Rex I do +not wonder the poor child loved him so. He was the handsomest, +most noble-looking, frank-faced young man I have +ever seen; and he took on in a way that made me actually cry +when I told him she was married. He would not believe it, +until I called the child and she told him herself it was the +truth. I was sorry from the bottom of my heart that young +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +fellow had not won her instead of this Stanwick, they were so +suited to each other.”</p> +<p>“Ah,” said Ruth, after a moment’s pause, “I think I have +the key to this mystery. She loves this handsome Rex, that is +evident; perhaps they have had a lovers’ quarrel, and she has +married this one on the spur of the moment through pique. +Oh, the pretty little dear!” sighed Ruth. “I hope she will +never rue it.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV' id='CHAPTER_XV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> +</div> +<p>Slowly the days came and went for the next fortnight. +The crisis had passed, and Dr. West said she would soon recover. +The beautiful, long, golden hair had been shorn from +the pretty little head, and the rose-bloom had died out of the +pretty cheeks, but the bright, restless light never left the +beautiful blue eyes––otherwise there was but little change in +Daisy.</p> +<p>It had been just two weeks that morning, they told her, +as she opened her eyes to consciousness, since she had first +been stricken down.</p> +<p>“And I have been here ever since?” she inquired, wonderingly.</p> +<p>“Yes, my dear,” replied Ruth Burton, softly patting the +thin white cheeks; “of course you have been here ever since. +I am afraid we are going to lose you soon, however. We have +received a letter from your husband, saying he will be here +some time to-morrow. Shall you be pleased to see him, +dear?”</p> +<p>In one single instant all the dim, horrible past rushed back +to Daisy’s mind. She remembered flinging herself down in the +clover-scented grass, and the world growing dark around her, +as the terrible words of Stanwick rang in her ears––he would +be back in just fifteen minutes to claim her.</p> +<p>Ah, bonny little Daisy, tossing on your pillow, babbling +empty nothings, better would it have been for you, perhaps, +if you had dropped the weary burden of your life into the kindly +arms of death then and there than to struggle onward into +the dark mystery which lay entombed in your future.</p> +<p>“Shall you be glad to see Mr. Stanwick, dear?” repeated +the old lady, and, unconscious of any wrong, she placed the +letter he had written in Daisy’s hands. Like one in a terrible +dream, Daisy read it quite through to the end. “You see, he +says he incloses fifty dollars extra for you, dear. I have placed +it with the twenty safe in your little purse.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></div> +<p>“Oh, Miss Ruth, you are so very kind to me. I shall never +forget how good you have all been to me,” said Daisy, softly, +watching the three peaceful-faced old ladies, who had drawn +their rocking-chairs, as was their custom, all in a row, and sat +quietly knitting in the sunshine, the gentle click of their +needles falling soothingly upon Daisy’s poor, tired brain.</p> +<p>“We shall miss you sadly when you go,” said Ruth, knitting +away vigorously. “You have been like a ray of sunshine +in this gloomy old house. We have all learned to love you +very dearly.”</p> +<p>“You love me?” repeated Daisy, wonderingly. “I was +beginning to believe every one hated me in the whole world, +every one has been so bitter and so cruel with me, except poor +old Uncle John. I often wonder why God lets me live––what +am I to do with my life! Mariana in the moated grange, was +not more to be pitied than I. Death relieved her, but I am +left to struggle on.”</p> +<p>“Heaven hear her!” cried Ruth. “One suffers a great +deal to lose all interest in life. You are so young, dear, you +could not have suffered much.”</p> +<p>“I have lost all I hold dear in life,” she answered, pathetically, +lifting her beautiful, childish blue eyes toward the white +fleecy clouds tinted by the setting sun.</p> +<p>Their hearts ached for the pretty, lonely little creature. +They believed she was thinking of her mother. So she was––and +of Rex, the handsome young husband whom she so madly +idolized in her worshipful childish fashion, who was worse than +dead to her––the husband who should have believed in her +honor and purity, though the world had cried out to him that +she was false. He had thrust aside all possibility of her writing +to him; cast her out from his life; left her to be persecuted +beyond all endurance; bound by a vow she dare not break to +keep her marriage with Rex a secret. Though he was more +cruel than death, she loved Rex with a devotion that never +faltered.</p> +<p>Daisy lay there, thinking of it all, while the soft, golden +sunlight died out of the sky, and the deep dusk of twilight +crept softly on.</p> +<p>Then the old ladies arose from their chairs, folded their +knitting, and put it away. Dusk was their hour for retiring.</p> +<p>They were discussing which one should sit up with Daisy, +when she summoned them all to her bedside.</p> +<p>“I want you all to go to bed and never mind me,” coaxed +Daisy, with a strange light in her eyes. “Take a good sleep, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +as I am going to do. I shall be very happy to-morrow––happier +than I have ever been before!”</p> +<p>She clasped her white arms about their necks in turn, clinging +to them, and sobbing as though she was loath to part with +them.</p> +<p>Ruth’s hand she held last and longest.</p> +<p>“Please kiss me again,” she sobbed. “Clasp your arms +tight around me, and say ‘Good-night, Daisy.’ It will be so +nice to dream about.”</p> +<p>With a cheery laugh the old lady lovingly complied with +her request.</p> +<p>“You must close those bright little eyes of yours, and drift +quickly into the Land of Nod, or there will be no roses in +these cheeks to-morrow. Good-night, my pretty little dear!”</p> +<p>“Good-night, dear, kind Ruth!” sighed Daisy.</p> +<p>And she watched the old lady with wistful, hungry eyes as +she picked up her shaded night-lamp, that threw such a soft, +sweet radiance over her aged face, as she quietly quitted the +room.</p> +<p>A sudden change came over Daisy’s face as the sound of her +footsteps died away in the hall.</p> +<p>“Oh, God! help me!” she cried, piteously, struggling to her +feet. “I must be far away from here when daylight breaks.”</p> +<p>She was so weak she almost fell back on her bed again when +she attempted to rise. The thought of the morrow lent +strength to her flagging energies. A strange mist seemed +rising before her. Twice she seemed near fainting, but her +indomitable courage kept her from sinking, as she thought of +what the morrow would have in store for her.</p> +<p>Quietly she counted over the little store in her purse by the +moon’s rays.</p> +<p>“Seventy dollars! Oh, I could never use all that in my +life!” she cried. “Besides, I could never touch one cent of +Stanwick’s money. It would burn my fingers––I am sure it +would!”</p> +<p>Folding the bill carefully in two she placed it beneath her +little snowy ruffled pillow. Then catching up the thick, dark +shawl which lay on an adjacent table, she wrapped it quickly +about her. She opened the door leading out into the hall, and +listened. All was still––solemnly still.</p> +<p>Daisy crept softly down the stairs, and out into the quiet +beauty of the still, summer night.</p> +<p>“Rex,” she wailed, softly, “perhaps when I am dead you +will feel sorry for poor little Daisy, and some one may tell you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +how you have wronged me in your thoughts, but you would +not let me tell you how it happened!”</p> +<p>In the distance she saw the shimmer of water lying white +and still under the moon’s rays, tipped by the silvery light of +the stars.</p> +<p>“No, not that way,” she cried, with a shudder; “some one +might save me, and I want to die!”</p> +<p>In the distance the red and colored gleaming lights of an +apothecary’s shop caught her gaze.</p> +<p>“Yes, that way will be best,” she said, reflectively.</p> +<p>She drew the shawl closer about her, pressing on as rapidly +as her feeble little feet would carry her. How weak she was +when she turned the knob and entered––the very lights seemed +dancing around her.</p> +<p>A small, keen-eyed, shrewd little man stepped briskly forward +to wait upon her. He started back in horror at the utter +despair and woe in the beautiful young face that was turned +for a moment toward him, beautiful in all its pallor as a +statue, with a crown of golden hair such as pictures of angels +wear encircling the perfect head.</p> +<p>“What can I do for you, miss?” queried the apothecary, +gazing searchingly into the beautiful dreamy blue eyes raised +up to his and wondering who she could possibly be.</p> +<p>“I wish to purchase some laudanum,” Daisy faltered. “I +wish it to relieve a pain which is greater than I can bear.”</p> +<p>“Toothache, most probably?” intimated the brisk little +doctor. “I know what it is. Lord bless you! I’ve had it +until I thought I should jump through the roof. Laudanum’s +a first-class thing, but I can tell you of something better––jerk +’em out, that’s my recipe,” he said, with an odd little smile. +“Of course every one to their notion, and if you say laudanum––and +nothing else––why it’s laudanum you shall have; +but remember it’s powerful. Why, ten drops of it would +cause––death.”</p> +<p>“How many drops did you say?” asked Daisy, bending forward +eagerly. “I––I want to be careful in taking it.”</p> +<p>“Ten drops, I said, would poison a whole family, and +twenty a regiment. You must use it very carefully, miss. +Remember I have warned you,” he said, handing her the +little bottle filled with a dark liquid and labeled conspicuously, +“Laudanum––a poison.”</p> +<p>“Please give me my change quickly,” she said, a strange, +deadly sickness creeping over her.</p> +<p>“Certainly, ma’am,” assented the obliging little man, +handing her back the change.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></div> +<p>Daisy quite failed to notice that he returned her the full +amount she had paid him in his eagerness to oblige her, and +he went happily back to compounding his drugs in the rear +part of the shop, quite unconscious he was out the price of the +laudanum.</p> +<p>He was dreaming of the strange beauty of the young girl, +and the smile deepened on his good-humored face as he remembered +how sweetly she had gazed up at him.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Daisy struggled on, clasping her treasure close to +her throbbing heart. She remembered Ruth had pointed out an +old shaft to her from her window; it had been unused many +years, she had said.</p> +<p>“The old shaft shall be my tomb,” she said; “no one will +think of looking for me there.”</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy––unhappy girl-bride, let Heaven not judge +her harshly––she was sorely tried.</p> +<p>“Mother, mother!” she sobbed, in a dry, choking voice, “I +can not live any longer. I am not taking the life God gave +me, I am only returning it to Him. This is the only crime I +have ever committed, mother, and man will forget it, and God +will forgive me. You must plead for me, angel-mother. +Good-bye, dear, kind Uncle John, your love never failed me, +and Rex––oh, Rex––whom I love best of all, you will not know +how I loved you. Oh, my love––my lost love––I shall watch +over you up there!” she moaned, “and come to you in your +dreams! Good-bye, Rex, my love, my husband!” she sobbed, +holding the fatal liquid to her parched lips.</p> +<p>The deep yawning chasm lay at her feet. Ten––ay, eleven +drops she hastily swallowed. Then with one last piteous appeal +to Heaven for forgiveness, poor, helpless little Daisy closed +her eyes and sprung into the air.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI' id='CHAPTER_XVI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +</div> +<p>A strong hand drew Daisy quickly back.</p> +<p>“Rash child! What is this that you would do?” cried an +eager, earnest voice, and, turning quickly about, speechless +with fright, Daisy met the stern eyes of the apothecary bent +searchingly, inquiringly upon her.</p> +<p>“It means that I am tired of life,” she replied, desperately. +“My life is so full of sadness it will be no sorrow to leave it. +I wanted to rest quietly down there, but you have held me +back; it is useless to attempt to save me now. I have already +swallowed a portion of the laudanum. Death must come to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +relieve me soon. It would be better to let me die down there +where no one could have looked upon my face again.”</p> +<p>“I had no intention to let you die so easily,” said the +apothecary, softly. “I read your thoughts too plainly for +that. I did not give you laudanum, but a harmless mixture +instead, and followed you to see if my surmise was correct. +You are young and fair––surely life could not have lost all +hope and sunshine for you?”</p> +<p>“You do not know all,” said Daisy, wearily, “or you +would not have held me back. I do not know of another life +so utterly hopeless as my own.”</p> +<p>The good man looked at the sweet, innocent, beautiful face, +upon which the starlight fell, quite bewildered and thoughtful.</p> +<p>“I should like to know what your trouble is,” he said, +gently.</p> +<p>“I could tell you only one half of it,” she replied, wearily. +“I have suffered much, and yet through no fault of my own. +I am cast off, deserted, condemned to a loveless, joyless life; +my heart is broken; there is nothing left me but to die. I repeat +that it is a sad fate.”</p> +<p>“It is indeed,” replied the apothecary, gravely. “Yet, +alas! not an uncommon one. Are you quite sure that nothing +can remedy it?”</p> +<p>“Quite sure,” replied Daisy, hopelessly. “My doom is +fixed; and no matter how long I live, or how long he lives, it +can never be altered.”</p> +<p>The apothecary was uncomfortable without knowing why, +haunted by a vague, miserable suspicion, which poor Daisy’s +words secretly corroborated; yet it seemed almost a sin to harbor +one suspicion against the purity of the artless little creature +before him. He looked into the fresh young face. There +was no cloud on it, no guilt lay brooding in the clear, truthful +blue eyes. He never dreamed little Daisy was a wife. “Why +did he not love her?” was the query the apothecary asked +himself over and over again; “she is so young, so loving, and +so fair. He has cast her off, this man to whom she has given +the passionate love of her young heart.”</p> +<p>“You see you did wrong to hold me back,” she said, gently. +“How am I to live and bear this sorrow that has come upon +me? What am I to do?”</p> +<p>She looked around her with the bewildered air of one who +had lost her way, with the dazed appearance of one from beneath +whose feet the bank of safety has been withdrawn. +Hope was dead, and the past a blank.</p> +<p>“No matter what your past has been, my poor child, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +must remember there is a future. Take up the burden +again, and bear it nobly; go back to your home, and commence +life anew.”</p> +<p>“I have no home and no friends,” she sighed, hopelessly.</p> +<p>“Poor child,” he said, pityingly, “is it as bad as that?”</p> +<p>A sudden idea seemed to occur to him.</p> +<p>“You are a perfect stranger to me,” he said, “but I believe +you to be an honorable girl, and I should like to befriend you, +as I would pray Heaven to befriend a daughter of mine if she +were similarly situated. If I should put you in a way of obtaining +your own living as companion to an elderly lady in a +distant city, would you be willing to take up the tangled +threads of your life again, and wait patiently until God saw fit +to call you––that is, you would never attempt to take your life +into your own hands again?” he asked, slowly. “Remember, +such an act is murder, and a murderer can not enter the kingdom +of heaven.”</p> +<p>He never forgot the startled, frightened glance that swept +over the beautiful face, plainly discernible in the white moonlight, +nor the quiver of the sweet, tremulous voice as Daisy +answered:</p> +<p>“I think God must have intended me to live, or He would +not have sent you here to save me,” she answered, impulsively. +“Twice I have been near death, and each time I have been +rescued. I never attempted to take my own life but this +once. I shall try and accept my fate and live out my weary +life.”</p> +<p>“Bravely spoken, my noble girl,” replied her rescuer, +heartily.</p> +<p>“I must go far away from here, though,” she continued, +shuddering; “I am sorely persecuted here.”</p> +<p>The old man listened gravely to her disconnected, incoherent +words, drawing but one conclusion from them––“the lover +who had cast her off was pursuing the child, as her relentless +foe, to the very verge of death and despair.”</p> +<p>“It is my sister who wants a companion,” he said. “She +lives in the South––in Florida. Do you think you would like +to go as far away as that?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Daisy, mechanically. “I should like to go +to the furthest end of the world. It does not matter much +where I go!”</p> +<p>How little she knew where fate was drifting her! Rex had +not told her his home was in Florida; he meant to tell her +that on the morning he was to have met her.</p> +<p>“It will be a long, wearisome journey for you to undertake, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +still I feel sure you are brave enough to accomplish it in +safety.”</p> +<p>“I thank you very much for your confidence in me, sir,” +said Daisy, simply.</p> +<p>“Tut, tut, child!” exclaimed the old man, brusquely. +“That innocent little face of yours ought to be a passport to +any one’s confidence. I don’t think there’s any doubt but +what you will get on famously with Maria––that’s my sister +Mrs. Glenn––but she’s got three daughters that would put an +angel’s temper on edge. They’re my nieces––more’s the pity, +for they are regular Tartars. Mrs. Glenn sent for my daughter +Alice to come down there; but, Lord bless you, I wouldn’t +dare send her! There would be a raging quarrel before +twenty-four hours! My Alice has got a temper of her own. +But, pshaw! I ought not to frighten you, my dear; they +could not help but love <i>you</i>.”</p> +<p>And thus it was Daisy’s fate was unchangeably settled for +her.</p> +<p>“There is one thing I would like you to promise me,” she +said, timidly, “and that is never to divulge my whereabouts +to any one who might come in search of me. I must remain +dead to the world forever; I shall never take up the old life +again. They must believe me dead.”</p> +<p>Argument and persuasion alike were useless; and, sorely +troubled at heart, the apothecary reluctantly consented. Poor +little Daisy impulsively caught him by both hands, and gratefully +sobbed out her thanks.</p> +<p>The arrangements were soon completed, and before the gray +dawn pierced the darkness of the eastern sky poor little Daisy +was whirling rapidly away from Elmwood.</p> +<p>The consternation and excitement which prevailed at the +Burton Cottage when Daisy’s absence was discovered can better +be imagined than described; or the intense anger of Stanwick +upon finding Daisy had eluded him.</p> +<p>“Checkmated!” he cried, white to the very lips. “But +she shall not escape me; she shall suffer for this freak. I am +not a man to be trifled with. She can not have gone far,” he +assured himself. “In all probability she has left Elmwood; +but if by rail or by water I can easily recapture my pretty +bird. Ah, Daisy Brooks!” he muttered, “you can not fly +away from your fate; it will overtake you sooner or later.”</p> +<p>Some hours after Stanwick had left the cottage, an old man +toiled wearily up the grass-grown path.</p> +<p>“Oh, poor little Daisy,” he said, wiping the tears from his +eyes with his old red and white cotton kerchief; “no matter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +what you have done I will take you back to my heart––that I +will!”</p> +<p>He clutched the letter Mme. Whitney had written him close +in his toil-hardened hand. The letter simply told him Daisy +had fled from the seminary, and she had every reason to believe +she was now in Elmwood. He had received the letter +while in New York, and hastily proceeded to Elmwood, the +station indicated, at once, without stopping over at Allendale +to acquaint Septima with the news.</p> +<p>“She shall never be sent off to school again,” he commented; +“but she shall stop at home. Poor little pet, she was +always as happy as the day was long; she sha’n’t have book-learning +if she don’t want it. I am too hard, I s’pose, with +the child in sending her off among these primpy city gals, +with their flounces and furbelows, with only three plain muslin +frocks. The dickens fly away with the book-learnin’; I +like her all the better just as she is, bless her dear little heart! +I’m after little Daisy Brooks,” he said, bowing to the ladies +who met him at the door. “I heard she was here––run away +from school, you see, ma’am––but I’ll forgive the little gypsy. +Tell her old Uncle John is here. She’ll be powerful glad to +see me.”</p> +<p>Slowly and gently they broke to him the cruel story. How +the dark, handsome stranger had brought her there in the +storm and the night; and they could not refuse her shelter; +the gentleman claimed her to be his wife; of her illness which +culminated in her disappearance.</p> +<p>They never forgot the white, set face turned toward them. +The veins stood out like cords on his forehead, and the perspiration +rolled down his pallid cheeks in great quivering beads. +This heart-rending, silent emotion was more terrible to witness +than the most violent paroxysms of grief. Strangely enough +they had quite forgotten to mention Rex’s visit.</p> +<p>“You don’t know how I loved that child,” he cried, brokenly. +“She was all I had to love in the whole world, and I set +such store by her, but Stanwick shall pay dearly for this,” he +cried, hoarsely. “I shall never rest day or night until my +little Daisy’s honor is avenged, so help me God! You think +she is dead?” he questioned, looking brokenly from the one to +the other.</p> +<p>They only nodded their heads; they could not speak through +their sobs.</p> +<p>At that moment several of the neighbors who were assisting +in the search were seen coming toward the cottage.</p> +<p>They gathered in a little knot by the garden wall. With a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +heart heavier than lead in his bosom John Brooks went forward +to meet them.</p> +<p>“You haven’t got any track of my little Daisy?” he asked, +despondingly. The men averted their faces. “For God’s +sake speak out, my men!” he cried, in agony; “I can’t stand +this suspense.”</p> +<p>“There are footprints in the wet grass down yonder,” one +of them replied; “and they lead straight down to the old +shaft. Do you think your girl has made away with herself?”</p> +<p>A gray, ghastly pallor settled over John Brooks’ anguished +face.</p> +<p>“The Lord knows! All of you stay here while I go down +there and look. If I should find anything there I’d rather be +alone.”</p> +<p>There was a depth of agony in the man’s voice that touched +his hearers, and more than one coat-sleeve was drawn hastily +across sympathetic eyes as they whispered one to the other he +would surely find her there.</p> +<p>John Brooks had reached the very mouth of the pit now, +and through the branches of the trees the men saw him suddenly +spring forward, and stoop as if to pick up something, +and bitter cries rent the stillness of the summer morning.</p> +<p>“Daisy! oh, Daisy! my child, my child!”</p> +<p>Then they saw him fall heavily to the ground on the very +brink of the shaft.</p> +<p>“I guess he’s found her!” cried the sympathizing men. +“Let us go and see.”</p> +<p>They found John Brooks insensible, lying prone on his face, +grasping a tiny little glove in one hand, and in the other a +snowy little handkerchief, which bore, in one corner, worked +in fanciful design, the name of “Daisy.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII' id='CHAPTER_XVII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +</div> +<p>Glengrove was one of the most beautiful spots in the south +of Florida. The house––similar to many in the South in style +of architecture––stood in the midst of charming grounds which +were filled with flowers. To the left of the house was a large +shrubbery which opened on to a wide carriage-drive leading to +the main road, but the principal attraction of Glengrove was +its magnificent orange grove, where the brilliant sunshine loved +to linger longest among the dark-green boughs, painting the +luscious fruit with its own golden coloring––from green to +gold. A low stone wall divided it from the beach which led +to the sea.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div> +<p>It was early morning. In an elegant boudoir, whose oriel +window overlooked the garden, sat three young ladies, respectively, +Bessie Glenn, two-and-twenty; Gertie Glenn, twenty; +and Eve Glenn, eighteen––all dark-eyed, dark-haired, and +handsome, yet each of a distinct different type.</p> +<p>“I declare, Bess,” cried Gertie, indignantly, twisting the +telegram she held in her hand into a wisp, “it’s from Uncle +Jet! Guess what he says!”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t possibly,” yawns Bess, from the depths of her +easy-chair; “it’s too much trouble.”</p> +<p>“Is it about Alice?” questioned Eve, maliciously.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Gertie; “but you are to try and guess what +it is.”</p> +<p>“Why, I suppose some stranger has chanced to flutter down +into the quiet little village of Elmwood, and Alice thinks it +her duty to stay there and capture him.”</p> +<p>“That isn’t it at all,” snapped Gertie. “Uncle Jet says +Alice can not come; but he has taken the liberty of sending +another young lady in her stead, and hopes Miss Daisy Brooks +will be the right person in the right place. She will arrive on +the twentieth, at nine <span class='smcaplc'>A. M.</span>”</p> +<p>Eve jumped to her feet in actual astonishment, and even +Bessie dropped her novel, with widely opened eyes.</p> +<p>“Just fancy some tall, gaunt old maid of a companion, with +such a name!” she cried, raising her eyebrows and picking up +her book again. “I think you will find the daisy a rather +ancient and faded flower.”</p> +<p>“She couldn’t be anything else,” assented Gertie.</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t it be fun if she should turn out to be young and +pretty, and take the shine off both of you?” laughed Eve, +puckering up her mouth. “I would enjoy it immensely!”</p> +<p>“Eve, will you hold your tongue?” commanded Bessie, +sharply.</p> +<p>“You’d better hold your temper!” retorted Eve.</p> +<p>“Pshaw! what’s the use of being so silly as to quarrel over +a Miss Nobody?” cried Gertie, stamping her pretty slippered +foot. “Guess what else is the news.”</p> +<p>“Haven’t I told you I despise guessing?” cried Bess, angrily. +“It is not good form to insist upon a person’s guessing––please +remember it.”</p> +<p>“Write it down on ice,” said Eve, <i>sotto voce</i>, mimicking +her elder sister’s tone.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Gertie, with a look of triumph, “I drove over +to Mrs. Lyon’s yesterday to see how everything was progressing +for that contemplated marriage, and, lo! she informs me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +the wedding is postponed for the present, and Rex––handsome +Rex––is coming home alone.”</p> +<p>“No––o!” cried both the sisters in chorus.</p> +<p>Bess sat bolt upright, and Eve danced around the room +clapping her hands.</p> +<p>“I don’t think much of a marriage which has been postponed,” +said Bess, a bright spot glowing on both of her cheeks. +“Who knows but what one of us may have a chance of winning +handsome Rex Lyon, after all? He is certainly a golden +prize!”</p> +<p>“‘Don’t count the chickens,’ etc.,” quoted Eve, saucily.</p> +<p>“Gertrude!” said Bess, severely, “you will learn after +awhile never to speak before Eve. She is as liable to do mischief +as her namesake was in the Garden of Eden.”</p> +<p>“You ought never to go back on your own sex,” retorted +Eve, banging the door after her as she quitted the room, +Rover, an ugly-looking mastiff, closely following at her heels.</p> +<p>“That is certainly an astonishing piece of news,” said Bess, +reflectively, smoothing out the folds of her white cashmere +morning wrapper. “Now, here’s a plan for you, Gertie. +Find out his address in some way, and we will write to him on +some pretext or other. Rex has probably quarreled with the +haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, and one of us ought certainly +to catch his heart in the rebound. Send him an invitation +to your birthday party, Gertie.”</p> +<p>“I would be more likely to succeed than you, Bess,” said +Gertie, rocking complacently to and fro, and looking maliciously +at her sister. “You remember he once remarked he +did not like tall ladies, and you are certainly tall, Bess.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’d rather be tall and willowy and graceful, than +short and fat and dumpy,” jerked out Bess, spitefully.</p> +<p>“What! at swords’ points yet, eh? Ha, ha, ha!” cried +Eve, suddenly, popping her head in at the door. “I’ll be +back after awhile to see which one of you gets the best of it.”</p> +<p>Before either of the sisters had time to reply, the family +carriage dashed suddenly up to the porch, and a moment later +a slight, dark-robed little figure was ushered into their presence.</p> +<p>“This is Miss Brooks, mum,” said Jim, the coachman, addressing +the elder sister.</p> +<p>“I’d like to know why you have brought her in here?” +cried Bess, angrily. “Why did you not take her into the +servants’ hall or into the kitchen?”</p> +<p>But Jim had disappeared.</p> +<p>“Well, now that you are here, you might sit down,” suggested +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +Gertie, wondering what kind of a face was hid behind +the long, thick, clinging veil. “You may lay aside your bonnet +and veil.”</p> +<p>Trembling and sick at heart with the cold greeting which +had been given her, Daisy did as she was bid.</p> +<p>“Why, I declare, you are younger than I am!” cried Eve, +impulsively. “We were all expecting to see a wrinkled, dried-up +old maid. Why, you’d make a much better companion for +me than for mother.”</p> +<p>“E––v––e!” cried the elder Miss Glenn, severely, “be kind +enough to leave the room.”</p> +<p>“I sha’n’t go one step until I have had my say out,” cried +Eve, planting herself firmly down on a hassock in the middle +of the floor. “Nobody likes me because I’m rude and free-spoken,” +declared Eve, addressing Daisy; “but I believe in +letting people know just what I am to begin with. I’m not +one of these sleek, smooth, tigery creatures that hide their +claws under velvet-paws. We are three model sisters,” she +went on, recklessly; “we have tremendous spats––when we are +here alone; but if a visitor happens in we all sit with our arms +around one another, ‘just to have the appearance’ of affection, +you know.”</p> +<p>The elder Miss Glenn arose with dignity, motioning Daisy to +follow her.</p> +<p>“Papa will see you later, Eve, dear,” she said, with a baleful +glitter in her sloe-black eyes; and as Daisy followed her +she could not help but compare her with Pluma Hurlhurst, +with that treacherous, mocking smile playing about her full, +red lips––and quite unconsciously poor little Daisy fell to +thinking.</p> +<p>“Rex will go back to Pluma Hurlhurst now,” she thought, +with a bitter sigh. “He has cast me out of his life; he will +go back and marry her.”</p> +<p>Poor, innocent Daisy, how little she knew of life or the insurmountable +barrier which lay between the haughty, scheming +heiress and Rex––her husband!</p> +<p>“I was asking you if you resided in Elmwood, Miss Brooks,” +said Bess, raising her voice. “I have asked you twice.”</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon; please forgive me,” said Daisy, flushing +painfully. “I––I was not aware you had spoken. No, I +lived near Elmwood––between there and Baltimore.”</p> +<p>Daisy was sorely afraid Miss Glenn would ask her to name +the exact location. She did not, however, much to Daisy’s +relief. By this time they had reached the door of Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +Glenn’s room, and as it was slightly ajar Bessie pushed it open +without further ceremony and entered.</p> +<p>“Has Miss Brooks come yet?” asked a thin, querulous +voice.</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Bessie; “here she is, mamma.”</p> +<p>The room was so dark Daisy could scarcely distinguish the +different objects for a moment or so. She saw, however, a +dark figure on a couch and a white jeweled hand waving a fan +indolently to and fro. A sudden impulse came over Daisy to +turn and run away, but by a great effort she controlled her +feelings.</p> +<p>“Step forward, if you please, Miss Brooks. I can not observe +you well at such a distance; do not tread on the poodle +on the rug or brush against the bric-à-brac placed indiscriminately +about the room.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, if there were only a light,” thought Daisy, +in dismay. She was afraid of taking a single step for fear +some of the bric-à-brac mentioned, either at the right or left +of her, should come crashing down under her blundering little +feet.</p> +<p>“I always exclude the broad glare of early morning light, +as I find it especially trying.”</p> +<p>As she spoke she threw back one of the shutters with the +end of her fan, and a warm flood of invigorating sunshine +poured into the room.</p> +<p>“Dear me,” she cried, staring hard at the beautiful little +face before her. “Why, you are a child, scarcely older than +my Eve. What could that stupid brother of mine mean by +sending you to me? I have a notion to send you back again +directly.”</p> +<p>“Oh, please do not, madame,” cried Daisy, piteously. +“Only try me first; I will do my very best to please you.”</p> +<p>“But I did not want a young person,” expostulated Mrs. +Glenn.</p> +<p>“But you sent for Alice, his daughter, and––and he thought +I would do as well,” faltered Daisy, timidly.</p> +<p>“Alice Jet is over forty, and you are not more than sixteen, +I should judge. How did you happen to think you could do +as well as she?”</p> +<p>The color came and went on Daisy’s pretty flower-like face, +and her heart throbbed pitifully.</p> +<p>“I am not so very wise or learned,” she said, “but I should +try so hard to please you, if you will only let me try.”</p> +<p>“I suppose, now that you are here, we will have to make +the best of it,” replied Mrs. Glenn, condescendingly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></div> +<p>The fair beauty of the young girl’s face did not please her.</p> +<p>“I have always dreaded fair women,” she thought to herself, +“they are the most dangerous of rivals. If she stays at +Glengrove I shall see she is kept well in the background.”</p> +<p>While in the morning-room below the three girls were discussing +the new turn of affairs vigorously.</p> +<p>“I am determined she shall not remain here,” Bessie Glenn +was saying.</p> +<p>“I heartily indorse your opinion,” said Gertie, slowly.</p> +<p>And for once in her life the tongue of reckless Eve was +silent. She looked thoughtfully out of the window.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII' id='CHAPTER_XVIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>The first week of Daisy’s stay at Glengrove passed quickly. +She was beginning to feel quite at home with Mrs. Glenn and +Eve, but Bessie and Gertie held aloof from her. She was beginning +to believe she never would be able to win her way to +their hearts. Eve––warm-hearted, impulsive Eve––took to +her at once.</p> +<p>“You are just the kind of a girl I like, Daisy,” said Eve, +twirling one of her soft gold curls caressingly around her +finger; “and if I were a handsome young man, instead of a +girl, I should fall straightway in love with you. Why, what +are you blushing so for?” cried Eve. “Don’t you like to talk +about love and lovers?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Daisy, in a low voice, a distressed look creeping +into her blue eyes. “If you please, Eve, I’d rather not talk +about such things.”</p> +<p>“You are certainly a funny girl,” said Eve, wonderingly. +“Why, do you know all the handsome young fellows around +here have fallen deeply in love with you, and have just been +besieging both Bess and Gertie for an introduction to you.”</p> +<p>No laughing rejoinder came from Daisy’s red lips. There +was an anxious look in her eyes. Ah! this, then, accounted +for the growing coldness with which the two sisters greeted her.</p> +<p>“You do not seem enough interested to even ask who they +are,” said Eve, disappointedly. “I suppose you have never +heard we have some of the handsomest gentlemen around here +to be met with in the whole South––or in the North either, +for that matter,” said Eve, enthusiastically. “Wait until +you have seen some of them.”</p> +<p>How little she knew the girl’s heart and soul was bound up +in Rex, whom she told herself she was never again to see.</p> +<p>“Do you see that large gray, stone house yonder, whose turrets +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +you can just see beyond those trees?” asked Eve, suddenly, +a mischievous light dancing in her merry hazel eyes.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Daisy. “I have a fine view of it from my +window upstairs. I have seen a little child swinging to and +fro in a hammock beneath the trees. Poor little thing, she +uses a crutch. Is she lame?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Eve, “that’s little Birdie; she’s lame. I +do not want to talk about her but about her brother. Oh, he +is perfectly splendid!” declared Eve, enthusiastically, “and +rich, too. Why, he owns I don’t know how many cotton +plantations and orange groves, and he is––oh––so handsome! +You must take care you do not fall in love with him. All the +girls do. If you did not, you would be a great exception; you +could scarcely help caring for him, he is so winning and so +nice,” said Eve, blushing furiously.</p> +<p>How poor little Daisy’s heart longed for sympathy and consolation! +Oh, if she only dared tell Eve the great hidden sorrow +that seemed eating her heart away! She felt that she +must unburden her heart to some one, or it must surely break.</p> +<p>“Eve,” she said, her little hands closing softly over the +restless brown one drumming a tattoo on the window-sill, and +her golden head drooping so close to Eve’s, her curls mingled +with her dark locks, “I could never love any one in this world +again. I loved once––it was the sweetest, yet the most bitter, +experience of my life. The same voice that spoke tender words +to me cruelly cast me from him. Yet I love him still with +all my heart. Do not talk to me of love, or lovers, Eve, I can +not bear it. The world will never hold but one face for me, +and that is the face of him who is lost to me forever.”</p> +<p>“Oh, how delightfully romantic!” cried Eve. “I said to +myself over and over again there was some mystery in your +life. I have seen such strange shadows in your eyes, and your +voice often had the sound of tears in it. I do wish I could +help you in some way,” said Eve, thoughtfully. “I’d give +the world to set the matter straight for you. What’s his +name, and where does he live?”</p> +<p>“I can not tell you,” said Daisy, shaking her golden curls +sadly.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear! then I do not see how I can help you,” cried +Eve.</p> +<p>“You can not,” replied Daisy; “only keep my secret for +me.”</p> +<p>“I will,” she cried, earnestly.</p> +<p>And as they parted, Eve resolved in her own mind to bring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +this truant lover of Daisy’s back to his old allegiance; but the +first and most important step was to discover his name.</p> +<p>Eve went directly to her own room, her brain whirling with +a new plan, which she meant to put into execution at once, +while Daisy strolled on through the grounds, choosing the less +frequented paths. She wanted to be all alone by herself to +have a good cry. Somehow she felt so much better for having +made a partial confidante of Eve.</p> +<p>The sun was beginning to sink in the west; still Daisy +walked on, thinking of Rex. A little shrill piping voice falling +suddenly upon her ears caused her to stop voluntarily.</p> +<p>“Won’t you please reach me my hat and crutch? I have +dropped them on your side of the fence.”</p> +<p>Daisy glanced around, wondering in which direction the +voice came from.</p> +<p>“I am sitting on the high stone wall; come around on the +other side of that big tree and you will see me.”</p> +<p>The face that looked down into Daisy’s almost took her +breath away for a single instant, it was so like Rex’s.</p> +<p>A bright, winning, childish face, framed in a mass of dark +nut-brown curls, and the brownest of large brown eyes.</p> +<p>“Certainly,” said Daisy, stooping down with a strange unexplainable +thrill at her heart and picking up the wide-brimmed +sun-hat and crutch, which was unfortunately broken +by the fall.</p> +<p>A low cry burst from the child’s lips.</p> +<p>“Oh, my crutch is broken!” she cried, in dismay. “What +shall I do? I can not walk back to the house. I am lame!”</p> +<p>“Let me see if I can help you,” said Daisy, scaling the +stone wall with the grace of a fawn. “Put your arms around +my neck,” she said, “and cling very tight. I will soon have +you down from your high perch; never mind the crutch. I +can carry you up to the porch; it is not very far, and you are +not heavy.”</p> +<p>In a very few moments Daisy had the child down safely +upon <i>terra firma</i>.</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said the child. “I know you are tired; we +will rest a moment, please, on this fallen log.”</p> +<p>The touch of the little girl’s hands, the glance of the soft +brown eyes, and the tone of her voice seemed to recall every +word and glance of Rex, and hold a strange fascination for +her.</p> +<p>“I shall tell my mother and my brother how good you have +been to me, and they will thank you too. My name is Birdie; +please tell me yours.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></div> +<p>“My name is Daisy Brooks,” she answered.</p> +<p>Poor little girl-bride, there had been a time when she had +whispered to her heart that her name was Daisy Lyon; but +that bright dream was over now; she would never be aught else +than––Daisy Brooks.</p> +<p>“Is your name really Daisy?” cried the little girl in a transport +of delight, scarcely catching the last name. “Why, that +is the name my brother loves best in the world. You have +such a sweet face,” said the child, earnestly. “I would choose +the name of some flower as just suited to you. I should have +thought of Lily, Rose, Pansy, or Violet, but I should never +have thought of anything one half so pretty as Daisy; it just +suits you.”</p> +<p>All through her life Daisy felt that to be the sweetest compliment +ever paid her. Daisy laughed––the only happy laugh +that had passed her lips since she had met Rex that morning +under the magnolia-tree.</p> +<p>“Shall I tell you what my brother said about daisies?”</p> +<p>“Yes, you may tell me, if you like,” Daisy answered, observing +the child delighted to talk of her brother.</p> +<p>“He has been away for a long time,” explained Birdie. +“He only came home last night, and I cried myself to sleep, I +was so glad. You see,” said the child, growing more confidential, +and nestling closer to Daisy’s side, and opening wide +her great brown eyes, “I was crying for fear he would bring +home a wife, and mamma was crying for fear he wouldn’t. I +wrote him a letter all by myself once, and begged him not to +marry, but come home all alone, and you see he did,” cried +the child, overjoyed. “When he answered my letter, he inclosed +a little pressed flower, with a golden heart and little +white leaves around it, saying: ‘There is no flower like the +daisy for me. I shall always prize them as pearls beyond price.’ +I planted a whole bed of them beneath his window, and I +placed a fresh vase of them in his room, mingled with some +forget-me-nots, and when he saw them, he caught me in his +arms, and cried as though his heart would break.”</p> +<p>If the white fleecy clouds in the blue sky, the murmuring +sea, or the silver-throated bobolink swinging in the green leafy +bough above her head, had only whispered to Daisy why he +loved the flowers so well which bore the name of daisy, how +much misery might have been spared two loving hearts! The +gray, dusky shadows of twilight were creeping up from the sea.</p> +<p>“Oh, see how late it is growing,” cried Birdie, starting up +in alarm. “I am afraid you could not carry me up to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +porch. If you could only summon a servant, or––or––my +brother.”</p> +<p>For answer, Daisy raised the slight burden in her arms with +a smile.</p> +<p>“I like you more than I can tell,” said Birdie, laying her +soft, pink, dimpled cheek against Daisy’s. “Won’t you come +often to the angle in the stone wall? That is my favorite +nook. I like to sit there and watch the white sails glide by +over the white crested waves.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Daisy, “I will come every day.”</p> +<p>“Some time I may bring my brother with me; you must +love him, too, won’t you?”</p> +<p>“I should love any one who had you for a sister,” replied +Daisy, clasping the little figure she held still closer in her +arms; adding, in her heart: “You are so like him.”</p> +<p>Birdie gave her such a hearty kiss, that the veil twined +round her hat tumbled about her face like a misty cloud.</p> +<p>“You must put me down while you fix your veil,” said +Birdie. “You can not see with it so. There are huge stones +in the path, you would stumble and fall.”</p> +<p>“So I shall,” assented Daisy, as she placed the child down +on the soft, green grass.</p> +<p>At that instant swift, springy footsteps came hurriedly down +the path, and a voice, which seemed to pierce her very heart, +called: “Birdie, little Birdie, where are you?”</p> +<p>“Here, Brother Rex,” called the child, holding out her +arms to him with eager delight. “Come here, Rex, and carry +me; I have broken my crutch.”</p> +<p>For one brief instant the world seemed to stand still around +poor, hapless Daisy, the forsaken girl-bride. The wonder was +that she did not die, so great was her intense emotion. Rex +was standing before her––the handsome, passionate lover, who +had married her on the impulse of the moment; the man whom +she loved with her whole heart, at whose name she trembled, +of whom she had made an idol in her girlish heart, and worshiped––the +lover who had vowed so earnestly he would shield +her forever from the cold, cruel world, who had sworn eternal +constancy, while the faithful gleaming stars watched him from +the blue sky overhead.</p> +<p>Yes, it was Rex! She could not see through the thick, +misty veil, how pale his face was in the gathering darkness. +Oh, Heaven! how her passionate little heart went out to him! +How she longed, with a passionate longing words could not +tell, to touch his hand, or rest her weary head on his breast.</p> +<p>Her brain whirled; she seemed, to live ages in those few moments. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +Should she throw herself on her knees, and cry out +to him, “Oh, Rex, Rex, my darling! I am <i>not</i> guilty! Listen +to me, my love. Hear my pleading––listen to my prayer! I +am more sinned against than sinning. My life has been as +pure as an angel’s––take me back to your heart, or I shall +die!”</p> +<p>“She has been so good to me, Rex,” whispered Birdie, clinging +to the veil which covered Daisy’s face. “I broke my +crutch, and she has carried me from the stone wall; won’t you +please thank her for me, brother?”</p> +<p>Daisy’s heart nearly stopped beating; she knew the eventful +moment of her life had come, when Rex, her handsome young +husband, turned courteously toward her, extending his hand +with a winning smile.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX' id='CHAPTER_XIX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +</div> +<p>On the day following Rex’s return home, and the morning +preceding the events narrated in our last chapter, Mrs. +Theodore Lyon sat in her dressing-room eagerly awaiting her +son; her eyebrows met in a dark frown and her jeweled hands +were locked tightly together in her lap.</p> +<p>“Rex is like his father,” she mused; “he will not be +coerced in this matter of marriage. He is reckless and willful, +yet kind of heart. For long years I have set my heart +upon this marriage between Rex and Pluma Hurlhurst. I say +again it must be!” Mrs. Lyon idolized her only son. “He +would be a fitting mate for a queen,” she told herself. The +proud, peerless beauty of the haughty young heiress of Whitestone +Hall pleased her. “She and no other shall be Rex’s +wife,” she said.</p> +<p>When Rex accepted the invitation to visit Whitestone Hall +she smiled complacently.</p> +<p>“It can end in but one way,” she told herself; “Rex will +bring Pluma home as his bride.”</p> +<p>Quite unknown to him, his elegant home had been undergoing +repairs for months.</p> +<p>“There will be nothing wanting for the reception of his +bride,” she said, viewing the magnificent suites of rooms which +contained every luxury that taste could suggest or money procure.</p> +<p>Then came Rex’s letter like a thunderbolt from a clear sky +begging her not to mention the subject again, as he could +never marry Pluma Hurlhurst.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></div> +<p>“I shall make a flying trip home,” he said, “then I am +going abroad.”</p> +<p>She did not notice how white and worn her boy’s handsome +face had grown when she greeted him the night before, in the +flickering light of the chandelier. She would not speak to +him then of the subject uppermost in her mind.</p> +<p>“Retire to your room at once, Rex,” she said, “your +journey has wearied you. See, it is past midnight already. I +will await you to-morrow morning in my boudoir; we will +breakfast there together.”</p> +<p>She leaned back against the crimson velvet cushions, tapping +her satin quilted slipper restlessly on the thick velvet +carpet, ever and anon glancing at her jeweled watch, wondering +what could possibly detain Rex.</p> +<p>She heard the sound of a quick, familiar footstep in the +corridor; a moment later Rex was by her side. As she +stooped down to kiss his face she noticed, in the clear morning +light, how changed he was. Her jeweled hands lingered +on his dark curls and touched his bright, proud face. “What +had come over this handsome, impetuous son of hers?” she +asked herself.</p> +<p>“You have been ill, Rex,” she said, anxiously, “and you +have not told me.”</p> +<p>“I have not, indeed, mother,” he replied.</p> +<p>“Not ill? Why, my dear boy, your face is haggard and +worn, and there are lines upon it that ought not to have been +there for years. Rex,” she said, drawing him down on the +sofa beside her, and holding his strong white hands tightly +clasped in her own, “I do not want to tease you or bring +up an unpleasant subject, but I had so hoped, my boy, you +would not come alone. I have hoped and prayed, morning +and night, you would bring home a bride, and that bride +would be––Pluma Hurlhurst.”</p> +<p>Rex staggered from her arms with a groan. He meant to +tell her the whole truth, but the words seemed to fail him.</p> +<p>“Mother,” he said, turning toward her a face white with +anguish, “in Heaven’s name, never mention love or marriage +to me again or I shall go mad. I shall never bring a +bride here.”</p> +<p>“He has had a quarrel with Pluma,” she thought.</p> +<p>“Rex,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and +looking down into his face, “tell me, has Pluma Hurlhurst +refused you? Tell me what is the matter, Rex. I am your +mother, and I have the right to know. The one dream of my +life has been to see Pluma your wife; I can not give up that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +hope. If it is a quarrel it can be easily adjusted; ‘true love +never runs smooth,’ you know.”</p> +<p>“It is not that, mother,” said Rex, wearily bowing his head +on his hands.</p> +<p>Then something like the truth seemed to dawn upon her.</p> +<p>“My son,” she said, in a slight tone of irritation, “Pluma +wrote me of that little occurrence at the lawn fête. Surely +you are not in love with that girl you were so foolishly attentive +to––the overseer’s niece, I believe it was. I can not, I +will not, believe a son of mine could so far forget his pride as +to indulge in such mad, reckless folly. Remember, Rexford,” +she cried, in a voice fairly trembling with suppressed +rage, “I could never forgive such an act of recklessness. She +should never come here, I warn you.”</p> +<p>“Mother,” said Rex, raising his head proudly, and meeting +the flashing scorn of her eyes unflinchingly, “you must not +speak so; I––can not listen to it.”</p> +<p>“By what right do you forbid me to speak of that girl as I +choose?” she demanded, in a voice hard and cold with intense +passion.</p> +<p>Once or twice Rex paced the length of the room, his arms +folded upon his breast. Suddenly he stopped before her.</p> +<p>“What is this girl to you?” she asked.</p> +<p>With white, quivering lips Rex answered back:</p> +<p>“She is my wife!”</p> +<p>The words were spoken almost in a whisper, but they echoed +like thunder through the room, and seemed to repeat themselves, +over and over again, during the moment of utter +silence that ensued. Rex had told his pitiful secret, and felt +better already, as if the worst was over; while his mother stood +motionless and dumb, glaring upon him with a baleful light in +her eyes. He had dashed down in a single instant the hopes +she had built up for long years.</p> +<p>“Let me tell you about it, mother,” he said, kneeling at +her feet. “The worst and bitterest part is yet to come.”</p> +<p>“Yes, tell me,” his mother said, hoarsely.</p> +<p>Without lifting up his bowed head, or raising his voice, +which was strangely sad and low, Rex told his story––every +word of it: how his heart had went out to the sweet-faced, +golden-haired little creature whom he found fast asleep under +the blossoming magnolia-tree in the morning sunshine; how +he protected the shrinking, timid little creature from the cruel +insults of Pluma Hurlhurst; how he persuaded her to marry +him out in the starlight, and how they had agreed to meet on +the morrow––that morrow on which he found the cottage +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +empty and his child-bride gone; of his search for her, and––oh, +cruelest and bitterest of all!––where and with whom he +found her; how he had left her lying among the clover, loving +her too madly to curse her, yet praying Heaven to strike him +dead then and there. Daisy––sweet little, blue-eyed Daisy +was false; he never cared to look upon a woman’s face again. +He spoke of Daisy as his wife over and over again, the name +lingering tenderly on his lips. He did not see how, at the +mention of the words, “My wife,” his mother’s face grew +more stern and rigid, and she clutched her hands so tightly +together that the rings she wore bruised her tender flesh, yet +she did not seem to feel the pain.</p> +<p>She saw the terrible glance that leaped into his eyes when he +mentioned Stanwick’s name, and how he ground his teeth, +like one silently breathing a terrible curse. Then his voice +fell to a whisper.</p> +<p>“I soon repented of my harshness,” he said, “and I went +back to Elmwood; but, oh, the pity of it––the pity of it––I +was too late; little Daisy, my bride, was dead! She had +thrown herself down a shaft in a delirium. I would have +followed her, but they held me back. I can scarcely realize it, +mother,” he cried. “The great wonder is that I do not go +insane.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Lyon had heard but one word––“Dead.” This girl +who had inveigled her handsome son into a low marriage was +dead. Rex was free––free to marry the bride whom she had +selected for him. Yet she dare not mention that thought to +him now––no, not now; she must wait a little.</p> +<p>No pity lurked in her heart for the poor little girl-bride +whom she supposed lying cold and still in death, whom her +son so wildly mourned; she only realized her darling Rex was +free. What mattered it to her at what bitter a cost Rex was +free? She should yet see her darling hopes realized. Pluma +should be his wife, just as sure as they both lived.</p> +<p>“I have told you all now, mother,” Rex said, in conclusion; +“you must comfort me, for Heaven knows I need all of your +sympathy. You will forgive me, mother,” he said. “You +would have loved Daisy, too, if you had seen her; I shall always +believe, through some enormous villainy, Stanwick must +have tempted her. I shall follow him to the ends of the earth. +I shall wring the truth from his lips. I must go away,” he +cried––“anywhere, everywhere, trying to forget my great +sorrow. How am I to bear it? Has Heaven no pity, that +I am so sorely tried?”</p> +<p>At that moment little Birdie came hobbling into the room, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +and for a brief moment Rex forgot his great grief in greeting +his little sister.</p> +<p>“Oh, you darling brother Rex,” she cried, clinging to him +and laughing and crying in one breath, “I told them to wake +me up sure, if you came in the night. I dreamed I heard your +voice. You see, it must have been real, but I couldn’t wake +up; and this morning I heard every one saying: ‘Rex is here, +Rex is here,’ and I couldn’t wait another moment, but I came +straight down to you.”</p> +<p>Rex kissed the pretty little dimpled face, and the little +chubby hands that stroked his hair so tenderly.</p> +<p>“Why, you have been crying, Rex,” she cried out, in childish +wonder. “See, there are tear-drops on your eyelashes––one +fell on my hand. What is the matter, brother dear, are +you not happy?”</p> +<p>Birdie put her two little soft white arms around his neck, +laying her cheek close to his in her pretty, childish, caressing +way.</p> +<p>He tried to laugh lightly, but the laugh had no mirth in it.</p> +<p>“You must run away and play, Birdie, and not annoy your +brother,” said Mrs. Lyon, disengaging the child’s clinging +arms from Rex’s neck. “That child is growing altogether +too observing of late.”</p> +<p>“Child!” cried Birdie. “I am ten years old. I shall soon +be a young lady like Bess and Gertie, over at Glengrove.”</p> +<p>“And Eve,” suggested Rex, the shadow of a smile flickering +around his mouth.</p> +<p>“No, not like Eve,” cried the child, gathering up her +crutch and sun-hat as she limped toward the door; “Eve is +not a young lady, she’s a Tom-boy; she wears short dresses and +chases the hounds around, while the other two wear silk +dresses with big, big trains and have beaus to hold their fans +and handkerchiefs. I am going to take my new books you sent +me down to my old seat on the stone wall and read those +pretty stories there. I don’t know if I will be back for lunch +or not,” she called back; “if I don’t, will you come for me, +Brother Rex?”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear,” he made answer, “of course I will.”</p> +<p>The lunch hour came and went, still Birdie did not put in +an appearance. At last Rex was beginning to feel uneasy +about her.</p> +<p>“You need not be the least alarmed,” said Mrs. Lyon, +laughingly, “the child is quite spoiled; she is like a romping +gypsy, more content to live out of doors in a tent than to +remain indoors. She is probably waiting down on the stone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +wall for you to come for her and carry her home as you used +to do. You had better go down and see, Rex; it is growing +quite dark.”</p> +<p>And Rex, all unconscious of the strange, invisible thread +which fate was weaving so closely about him, quickly made his +way through the fast-gathering darkness down the old familiar +path which led through the odorous orange groves to the old +stone wall, guided by the shrill treble of Birdie’s childish +voice, which he heard in the distance, mingled with the plaintive +murmur of the sad sea-waves––those waves that seemed +ever murmuring in their song the name of Daisy. Even the +subtle breeze seemed to whisper of her presence.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX' id='CHAPTER_XX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX.</h2> +</div> +<p>“I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered +my little sister,” said Rex, extending his hand to the little +veiled figure standing in the shade of the orange-trees. “Allow +me to thank you for it.”</p> +<p>Poor Daisy! she dared not speak lest the tones of her voice +should betray her identity.</p> +<p>“I must for evermore be as one dead to him,” she whispered +to her wildly beating heart.</p> +<p>Rex wondered why the little, fluttering, cold fingers dropped +so quickly from his clasp; he thought he heard a stifled sigh; +the slight, delicate form looked strangely familiar, yet he +could see it was neither Eve, Gerty, nor Bess. She bowed +her head with a few low-murmured words he scarcely caught, +and the next instant the little figure was lost to sight in the +darkness beyond.</p> +<p>“Who was that, Birdie?” he asked, scarcely knowing what +prompted the question.</p> +<p>Alas for the memory of childhood! poor little Birdie had +quite forgotten.</p> +<p>“It is so stupid of me to forget, but when I see her again I +shall ask her and try and remember it then.”</p> +<p>“It is of no consequence,” said Rex, raising the little figure +in his arms and bearing her quickly up the graveled path to +the house.</p> +<p>As he neared the house Rex observed there was great confusion +among the servants; there was a low murmur of voices +and lights moving to and fro.</p> +<p>“What is the matter, Parker?” cried Rex, anxiously, of +the servant who came out to meet him.</p> +<p>“Mrs. Lyon is very ill, sir,” he answered, gravely; “it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +is a paralytic stroke the doctor says. We could not find you, +so we went for Doctor Elton at once.”</p> +<p>It seemed but a moment since he had parted from his +mother in the gathering twilight, to search for Birdie. His +mother very ill––dear Heaven! he could scarcely realize it.</p> +<p>“Oh, take me to mother, Rex!” cried Birdie, clinging to +him piteously. “Oh, it can not, it cannot be true; take me to +her, Rex!”</p> +<p>The sound of hushed weeping fell upon his ears and seemed +to bring to him a sense of what was happening. Like one in +a dream he hurried along the corridor toward his mother’s +boudoir. He heard his mother’s voice calling for him.</p> +<p>“Where is my son?” she moaned.</p> +<p>He opened the door quietly and went in. Her dark eyes +opened feebly as Rex entered, and she held out her arms to +him.</p> +<p>“Oh, my son, my son!” she cried; “thank Heaven you are +here!”</p> +<p>She clung to him, weeping bitterly. It was the first time he +had ever seen tears in his mother’s eyes, and he was touched +beyond words.</p> +<p>“It may not be as bad as you think, mother,” he said; +“there is always hope while there is life.”</p> +<p>She raised her face to her son’s, and he saw there was a +curious whiteness upon it.</p> +<p>The large, magnificent room was quite in shadow; soft shadows +filled the corners; the white statuettes gleamed in the +darkness; one blind was half drawn, and through it came the +soft, sweet moonlight. A large night-lamp stood upon the +table, but it was carefully shaded. Faint glimmers of light +fell upon the bed, with its costly velvet hangings, and on the +white, drawn face that lay on the pillows, with the gray +shadow of death stealing softly over it––the faint, filmy look +that comes only into eyes that death has begun to darken.</p> +<p>His mother had never been demonstrative; she had never +cared for many caresses; but now her son’s love seemed her +only comfort.</p> +<p>“Rex,” she said, clinging close to him, “I feel that I am +dying. Send them all away––my hours are numbered––a mist +rises before my face, Rex. Oh, dear Heaven! I can not see +you––I have lost my sight––my eyes grow dim.”</p> +<p>A cry came from Rex’s lips.</p> +<p>“Mother, dear mother,” he cried, “there is no pain in this +world I would not undergo for your dear sake!” he cried, kissing +the stiffening lips.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span></div> +<p>She laid her hands on the handsome head bent before her.</p> +<p>“Heaven bless you, my son,” she murmured. “Oh, Rex, +my hope and my trust are in you!” she wailed. “Comfort +me, calm me––I have suffered so much. I have one last dying +request to make of you, my son. You will grant my prayer, +Rex? Surely Heaven would not let you refuse my last request!”</p> +<p>Rex clasped her in his arms. This was his lady-mother, +whose proud, calm, serene manner had always been perfect––whose +fair, proud face had never been stained with tears––whose +lips had never been parted with sighs or worn with entreaties.</p> +<p>It was so new to him, so terrible in its novelty, he could +hardly understand it. He threw his arms around her, and +clasped her closely to his breast.</p> +<p>“My dearest mother,” he cried, “you know I would die for +you if dying would benefit you. Why do you doubt my willingness +to obey your wishes, whatever they may be? Whatever +I can do to comfort you I will surely do it, mother.”</p> +<p>“Heaven bless you, Rex!” she cried, feebly caressing his +face and his bands. “You make death a thousand-fold more +easy to bear, my darling, only son!”</p> +<p>“My dear sir,” said the doctor, bending over him gently, +“I must remind you your mother’s life hangs on a thread. +The least excitement, the least agitation, and she will be dead +before you can call for help. No matter what she may say to +you, listen and accede.”</p> +<p>Rex bent down and kissed the pale, agitated face on the +pillow.</p> +<p>“I will be careful of my dearest mother. Surely you may +trust me,” he said.</p> +<p>“I do,” replied the doctor, gravely. “Your mother’s life, +for the present, lies in your hands.”</p> +<p>“Is it true, Rex, that I must die?” she gasped. The look +of anguish on his face answered her. “Rex,” she whispered, +clinging like a child to his strong white hands, “my hope and +trust are in you, my only son. I am going to put your love +to the test, my boy. I beseech you to say ‘Yes’ to the last +request I shall ever make of you. Heaven knows, Rex, I +would not mention it now, but I am dying––yes, dying, Rex.”</p> +<p>“You need not doubt it, mother,” he replied, earnestly, +“I can not refuse anything you may ask! Why should I?”</p> +<p>But, as he spoke, he had not the faintest idea of what he +would be asked to do. As he spoke his eyes caught the gleam +of the moonlight through the window, and his thoughts traveled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +for one moment to the beloved face he had seen in the +moonlight––how fair and innocent the face was as they parted +on the night they were wed! The picture of that lonely young +girl-wife, going home by herself, brought tears to his eyes.</p> +<p>“Was there ever a fate so cruel?” he said to himself. +“Who ever lost a wife on his wedding-day?”</p> +<p>Surely there had never been a love-dream so sweet, so passionate, +or so bright as his. Surely there had never been one +so rudely broken.</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy––his wife––lying cold and still in death. +Even his mother was to be taken from him.</p> +<p>The feeble pressure of his mother’s hands recalled his +wandering thoughts.</p> +<p>“Listen, Rex,” she whispered, faintly, “my moments are +precious.”</p> +<p>He felt his mother’s arms clasp closely round his neck.</p> +<p>“Go on, mother,” he said, gently.</p> +<p>“Rex, my son,” she whispered, gaspingly, “I could not +die and leave the words unspoken. I want my race to live +long generations after me. Your poor little lame sister will +go unmarried to the grave; and now all rests with you, my +only son. You understand me, Rex; you know the last request +I have to ask.”</p> +<p>For the first time a cry came to Rex’s lips; her words pierced +like a sword in his heart.</p> +<p>“Surely, mother, you do not mean––you do not think I +could ever––”</p> +<p>The very horror of the thought seemed to completely unman +him.</p> +<p>“You will marry again,” she interrupted, finishing the +sentence he could not utter. “Remember, she whom you +loved is dead. I would not have asked this for long years to +come, but I am dying––I must speak now.”</p> +<p>“My God, mother!” he cried out in agony, “ask anything +but that. My heart is torn and bleeding; have pity on me, +have pity!”</p> +<p>Great drops of agony started on his brow; his whole frame +shook with agitation.</p> +<p>He tried to collect himself, to gather his scattered thoughts, +to realize the full import of the words she had spoken.</p> +<p>Marry again! Heaven pity him! How could he harbor such +a thought for a single instant, when he thought of the pale, +cold face of little Daisy––his fair young bride––whom he so +madly loved, lying pale and still in death, like a broken lily, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +down in the dark, bottomless pit which never yielded up its +terrible secrets!</p> +<p>“Rex,” wailed his mother, feebly, gazing into his eyes with +a suspense heart-breaking to witness, “don’t refuse me this +the first prayer I had ever made. If you mean to refuse +it would be kinder far to plunge a dagger into my heart and +let me die at once. You can not refuse.” One trembling +hand she laid on his breast, and with the other caressed his +face. “You are good and gentle of heart, Rex; the prayers +of your dying mother will touch you. Answer me, my son; +tell me my proud old race shall not die with you, and I will +rest calmly in my grave.”</p> +<p>The cold night-wind fanned his pallid brow, and the blood +coursed through his veins like molten lead. He saw the tears +coursing down her pale, withered cheeks. Ah, God! was it +brave to speak the words which must bring despair and death +to her? Was it filial to send his mother to her grave with +sorrow and sadness in her heart? Could he thrust aside his +mother’s loving arms and resist her dying prayer? Heaven +direct him, he was so sorely tried.</p> +<p>“Comfort me, Rex,” she whispered, “think of how I have +loved you since you were a little child, how I used to kiss your +rosy little face and dream what your future would be like. It +comes back to me now while I plead to you with my fast-fleeting +breath. Oh, answer me, Rex.”</p> +<p>All the love and tenderness of the young man’s impulsive +heart was stirred by the words. Never was a man so fearfully +tried. Rex’s handsome face had grown white with emotion; +deep shadows came into his eyes. Ah, what could it matter +now? His hopes were dead, his heart crushed, yet how could +he consent?</p> +<p>“Oh, Heaven, Rex!” she cried, “what does that look on +your face mean? What is it?”</p> +<p>The look of terror on her face seemed to force the mad +words from his lips, the magnetic gaze seemed to hold him +spellbound. He bent over hie mother and laid his fresh, brave +young face on the cold, white face of his dying mother.</p> +<p>“Promise me, Rex,” she whispered.</p> +<p>“I promise, mother!” he cried. “God help me; if it will +make your last moments happier, I consent.”</p> +<p>“Heaven bless you, my noble son!” whispered the quivering +voice. “You have taken the bitter sting from death, and +filled my heart with gratitude. Some day you will thank me +for it, Rex.”</p> +<p>They were uttered! Oh, fatal words! Poor Rex, wedded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +and parted, his love-dream broken, how little he knew of the +bitter grief which was to accrue from that promise wrung +from his white lips.</p> +<p>Like one in a dream he heard her murmur the name of +Pluma Hurlhurst. The power of speech seemed denied him; +he knew what she meant. He bowed his head on her cold +hands.</p> +<p>“I have no heart to give her,” he said, brokenly. “My +heart is with Daisy, my sweet little lost love.”</p> +<p>Poor Rex! how little he knew Daisy was at that self-same +moment watching with beating heart the faint light of his +window through the branches of the trees––Daisy, whom he +mourned as dead, alas! dead to him forever, shut out from his +life by the rash words of that fatally cruel promise.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI' id='CHAPTER_XXI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +</div> +<p>One thought only was uppermost in Daisy’s mind as she +sped swiftly down the flower-bordered path in the moonlight, +away from the husband who was still so dear to her.</p> +<p>“He did not recognize me,” she panted, in a little quivering +voice. “Would he have cursed me, I wonder, had he +known it was I?”</p> +<p>Down went the little figure on her knees in the dew-spangled +grass with a sharp little cry.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, what shall I do?” she cried out in sudden fright. +“How could I know she was his sister when I told her my +name?” A twig fell from the bough above her head brushed +by some night-bird’s wing. “He is coming to search for me,” +she whispered to herself.</p> +<p>A tremor ran over her frame; the color flashed into her +cheek and parted lips, and a startled, wistful brightness crept +into the blue eyes.</p> +<p>Ah! there never could have been a love so sweetly trustful +and child-like as little Daisy’s for handsome Rex, her husband +in name only.</p> +<p>Poor, little, innocent Daisy! if she had walked straight back +to him, crying out, “Rex, Rex, see, I am Daisy, your wife!” +how much untold sorrow might have been spared her.</p> +<p>Poor, little, lonely, heart-broken child-bride! how was she +to know Rex had bitterly repented and come back to claim +her, alas! too late; and how he mourned her, refusing to be +comforted, and how they forced him back from the edge of +the treacherous shaft lest he should plunge headlong down the +terrible depths. Oh, if she had but known all this!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></div> +<p>If Rex had dropped down from the clouds she could not +have been more startled and amazed at finding him in such +close proximity away down in Florida.</p> +<p>She remembered he had spoken to her of his mother, as he +clasped her to his heart out in the starlight of that never-to-be-forgotten +night, whispering to her of the marriage which +had been the dearest wish of his mother’s heart.</p> +<p>She remembered how she had hid her happy, rosy, blushing +face on his breast, and asked him if he was quite sure he loved +her better than Pluma Hurlhurst, the haughty, beautiful +heiress.</p> +<p>“Yes, my pretty little sweetheart, a thousand times better,” +he had replied, emphatically, holding her off at arm’s-length, +watching the heightened color that surged over the dainty, +dimpled face so plainly discernible in the white, radiant +starlight.</p> +<p>Daisy rested her head on one soft, childish hand, and gazed +thoughtfully up at the cold, brilliant stars that gemmed the +heavens above her.</p> +<p>“Oh, if you had only warned me, little stars!” she said. +“I was so happy then; and now life is so bitter!”</p> +<p>A sudden impulse seized her, strong as her very life, to look +upon his face again.</p> +<p>“I would be content to live my weary life out uncomplainingly +then,” she said.</p> +<p>Without intent or purpose she walked hurriedly back +through the pansy-bordered path she had so lately traversed.</p> +<p>The grand old trees seemed to stretch their giant arms protectingly +over her, as if to ward off all harm.</p> +<p>The night-wind fanned her flushed cheeks and tossed her +golden curls against her wistful, tear-stained face. Noiselessly +she crept up the wide, graveled path that led to his home––the +home which should have been hers.</p> +<p>Was it fancy? She thought she heard Rex’s voice crying +out: “Daisy, my darling!” How pitifully her heart thrilled! +Dear Heaven! if it had only been true. It was only the restless +murmur of the waves sighing among the orange-trees.</p> +<p>A light burned dimly in an upper window. Suddenly a +shadow fell across the pale, silken curtains. She knew but +too well whose shadow it was; the proud, graceful poise of the +handsome head, and the line of the dark curls waving over the +broad brow, could belong to no one but Rex. There was no +one but the pitying moonlight out there to see how passionately +the poor little child-bride kissed the pale roses on which that +shadow had fallen, and how she broke it from the stem and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +placed it close to her beating heart––that lonely, starved little +heart, chilled under the withering frost of neglect, when life, +love and happiness should have been just bursting into bloom +for her.</p> +<p>“He said I had spoiled his life,” she sighed, leaning her +pale face wearily against the dark-green ivy vines. “He must +have meant I had come between him and Pluma. Will he go +back to her, now that he believes me dead?”</p> +<p>One question alone puzzled her: Had Birdie mentioned her +name, and would he know it was she, whom every one believed +lying so cold and still in the bottomless pit? She could not +tell.</p> +<p>“If I could but see Birdie for a moment,” she thought, +“and beseech her to keep my secret!”</p> +<p>Birdie had said her brother was soon going away again.</p> +<p>“How could I bear it?” she asked herself, piteously.</p> +<p>It was not in human nature to see the young husband whom +she loved so well drifting so completely away from her and +still remain silent. “I will watch over him from afar; I will +be his guardian angel; I must remain as one dead to him forever,” +she told herself.</p> +<p>Afar off, over the dancing, moonlighted waters she saw a +pleasure-boat gliding swiftly over the rippling waves. She +could hear their merry laughter and gay, happy voices, and +snatches of mirthful songs. Suddenly the band struck up an +old, familiar strain. Poor little Daisy leaned her head against +the iron railing of the porch and listened to those cruel words––the +piece that they played was “Love’s Young Dream.”</p> +<p>Love’s young dream! Ah! how cruelly hers had ended! +She looked up at the white, fleecy clouds above her, vaguely +wondering why the love of one person made the earth a very +paradise, or a wilderness. As the gay, joyous music floated +up to her the words of the poet found echo in her heart in a +passionate appeal:</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“No one could tell, for nobody knew,<br /> +Why love was made to gladden a few;<br /> +And hearts that would forever be true,<br /> +Go lone and starved the whole way through,”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>Oh, it was such a blessed relief to her to watch that shadow. +Rex was pacing up and down the room now, his arms folded +and his head bent on his breast. Poor, patient little Daisy, +watching alone out in the starlight, was wondering if he was +thinking of her.</p> +<p>No thought occurred to her of being discovered there with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +her arms clasped around that marble pillar watching so intently +the shadow of that graceful, manly figure pacing to +and fro.</p> +<p>No thought occurred to her that a strange event was at that +moment transpiring within those walls, or that something unusual +was about to happen.</p> +<p>How she longed to look upon his face for just one brief +moment! Estrangement had not chilled her trusting love, it +had increased it, rather, tenfold.</p> +<p>Surely it was not wrong to gaze upon that shadow––he was +her husband.</p> +<p>In that one moment a wild, bitter thought swept across her +heart.</p> +<p>Did Rex regret their marriage because she was poor, friendless, +and an orphan? Would it have been different if she had +been the heiress of Whitestone Hall?</p> +<p>She pitied herself for her utter loneliness. There was no +one to whom she could say one word of all that filled her heart +and mind, no face to kiss, no heart to lean on; she was so +completely alone. And this was the hour her fate was being +decided for her. There was no sympathy for her, her isolation +was bitter. She thought of all the heroines she had ever read +of. Ah, no one could picture such a sad fate as was hers.</p> +<p>A bright thought flashed across her lonely little heart.</p> +<p>“His mother is there,” she sighed. “Ah, if I were to go +to her and cry out: ‘Love me, love me! I am your son’s wife!’ +would she cast me from her? Ah, no, surely not; a woman’s +gentle heart beats in her breast, a woman’s tender pity. I +will plead with her on my knees––to comfort me––to show me +some path out of the pitiful darkness; I can love her because +she is his mother.”</p> +<p>Daisy drew her breath quickly; the color glowed warmly on +her cheek and lips; she wondered she had not thought of it +before. Poor child! she meant to tell her all, and throw herself +upon her mercy.</p> +<p>Her pretty, soft blue eyes, tender with the light of love, +were swimming with tears. A vain hope was struggling in +her heart––Rex’s mother might love her, because she worshiped +her only son so dearly.</p> +<p>Would she send her forth from that home that should have +sheltered her, or would she clasp those little cold fingers in +Rex’s strong white ones, as she explained to him, as only a +mother can, how sadly he had misjudged poor little Daisy––his +wife?</p> +<p>No wonder her heart throbbed pitifully as she stole silently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +across the wide, shadowy porch, and, quivering from head to +foot, touched the bell that echoed with a resounding sound +through the long entrance-hall.</p> +<p>“I would like to see Mrs. Lyon,” she said, hesitatingly, to +the servant who answered her summons. “Please do not refuse +me,” she said, clasping her little white hands pleadingly. +“I must see her at once. It is a question of life or death with +me. Oh, sir, please do not refuse me. I must see her at +once––and––all alone!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII' id='CHAPTER_XXII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +</div> +<p>In the beautiful drawing-room at Whitestone Hall sat +Pluma Hurlhurst, running her white, jeweled fingers lightly +over the keyboard of a grand piano, but the music evidently +failed to charm her. She arose listlessly and walked toward +the window, which opened out upon the wide, cool, rose-embowered +porch.</p> +<p>The sunshine glimmered on her amber satin robe, and the +white frost-work of lace at her throat, and upon the dark, rich +beauty of her southern face.</p> +<p>“Miss Pluma,” called Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, entering +the room, “there is a person down-stairs who wishes to see +you. I have told her repeatedly it is an utter impossibility––you +would not see her; but she declares she will not go away +until she does see you.”</p> +<p>Pluma turns from the window with cold disdain.</p> +<p>“You should know better than to deliver a message of this +kind to me. How dare the impertinent, presuming beggar +insist upon seeing me! Order the servants to put her out of +the house at once.”</p> +<p>“She is not young,” said the venerable housekeeper, “and +I thought, if you only would––”</p> +<p>“Your opinion was not called for, Mrs. Corliss,” returned +the heiress, pointing toward the door haughtily.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon,” the housekeeper made answer, “but +the poor creature begged so hard to see you I did feel a little +sorry for her.”</p> +<p>“This does not interest me, Mrs. Corliss,” said Pluma, +turning toward the window, indicating the conversation was at +an end––“not in the least.”</p> +<p>“The Lord pity you, you stony-hearted creature!” murmured +the sympathetic old lady to herself as the door closed +between them. “One word wouldn’t have cost you much, +Heaven knows, it’s mightly little comfort poor old master +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +takes with you! You are no more like the bonny race of +Hurlhursts than a raven is like a white dove!” And the poor +old lady walked slowly back to the dark-robed figure in the +hall, so eagerly awaiting her.</p> +<p>“There was no use in my going to my young mistress; I +knew she would not see you. But I suppose you are more +satisfied now.”</p> +<p>“She utterly refuses to see me, does she,” asked the woman, +in an agitated voice, “when you told her I wished to see her +particularly?”</p> +<p>The housekeeper shook her head.</p> +<p>“When Miss Pluma once makes up her mind to a thing, no +power on earth could change her mind,” she said; “and she +is determined she won’t see you, so you may as well consider +that the end of it.”</p> +<p>Without another word the stranger turned and walked slowly +down the path and away from Whitestone Hall.</p> +<p>“Fool that I was!” she muttered through her clinched +teeth. “I might have foreseen this. But I will haunt the +place day and night until I see you, proud heiress of Whitestone +Hall. We shall see––time will tell.”</p> +<p>Meanwhile Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was staring after +her with wondering eyes.</p> +<p>“I have heard that voice and seen that face somewhere,” +she ruminated, thoughtfully; “but where––where? There +seems to be strange leaks in this brain of mine––I can not remember.”</p> +<p>A heavy, halting step passed the door, and stopped there.</p> +<p>“What did that woman want, Mrs. Corliss?”</p> +<p>She started abruptly from her reverie, replying, hesitatingly.</p> +<p>“She wanted to see Miss Pluma, sir.”</p> +<p>“Was Pluma so busily engaged she could not spare that +poor creature a moment or so?” he inquired, irritably. +“Where is she?”</p> +<p>“In the parlor, sir.”</p> +<p>With slow, feeble steps, more from weakness than age, Basil +Hurlhurst walked slowly down the corridor to the parlor.</p> +<p>It was seldom he left his own apartments of late, yet Pluma +never raised her superb eyes from the book of engravings +which lay in her lap as he entered the room.</p> +<p>A weary smile broke under his silver-white mustache.</p> +<p>“You do not seem in a hurry to bid me welcome, Pluma,” +he said, grimly, throwing himself down into an easy-chair +opposite her. “I congratulate myself upon having such an +affectionate daughter.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></div> +<p>Pluma tossed aside her book with a yawn.</p> +<p>“Of course I am glad to see you,” she replied, carelessly; +“but you can not expect me to go into ecstasies over the +event like a child in pinafores might. You ought to take it +for granted that I’m glad you are beginning to see what utter +folly it is to make such a recluse of yourself.”</p> +<p>He bit his lip in chagrin. As is usually the case with invalids, +he was at times inclined to be decidedly irritable, as +was the case just now.</p> +<p>“It is you who have driven me to seek the seclusion of my +own apartments, to be out of sight and hearing of the household +of simpering idiots you insist upon keeping about you,” +he cried, angrily. “I came back to Whitestone Hall for peace +and rest. Do I get it? No.”</p> +<p>“That is not my fault,” she answered, serenely. “You do +not mingle with the guests. I had no idea they could annoy +you.”</p> +<p>“Well, don’t you suppose I have eyes and ears, even if I do +not mingle with the chattering magpies you fill the house up +with? Why, I can never take a ramble in the grounds of an +evening without stumbling upon a dozen or more pair of +simpering lovers at every turn. I like darkness and quiet. +Night after night I find the grounds strung up with these +Chinese lanterns, and I can not even sleep in my bed for the +eternal brass bands at night; and in the daytime not a moment’s +quiet do I get for these infernal sonatas and screeching +trills of the piano. I tell you plainly, I shall not stand this +thing a day longer. I am master of Whitestone Hall yet, and +while I live I shall have things my own way. After I die you +can turn it into a pandemonium, for all I care.”</p> +<p>Pluma flashed her large dark eyes upon him surprisedly, beginning +to lose her temper, spurred on by opposition.</p> +<p>“I am sure I do not mean to make a hermit of myself because +you are too old to enjoy the brightness of youth,” she +flashed out, defiantly; “and you ought not to expect it––it +is mean and contemptible of you.”</p> +<p>“Pluma!” echoed Basil Hurlhurst, in astonishment, his +noble face growing white and stern with suppressed excitement, +“not another word.”</p> +<p>Pluma tossed her head contemptuously. When once her +temper arose it was quite as impossible to check it as it was +when she was a willful, revengeful, spoiled child.</p> +<p>“Another man as rich as you are would have taken their +daughter to Washington for a season, and in the summer to +Long Branch or Newport––somewhere, anywhere, away from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +the detestable waving cotton-fields. When you die I shall have +it all set on fire.”</p> +<p>“Pluma!” he cried, hoarsely, rising to his feet and drawing +his stately, commanding figure to its full height, “I will not +brook such language from a child who should at least yield me +obedience, if not love. You are not the heiress of Whitestone +Hall yet, and you never may be. If I thought you really contemplated +laying waste these waving fields that have been my +pride for long years––and my father’s before me––I would will +it to an utter stranger, so help me Heaven!”</p> +<p>Were his words prophetic? How little she knew the echo of +these words were doomed to ring for all time down the corridors +of her life! How little we know what is in store for us!</p> +<p>“I am your only child,” said Pluma, haughtily; “you +would not rob me of my birthright. I shall be forced to submit +to your pleasure––while you are here––but, thank Heaven, +the time is not far distant when I shall be able to do as I +please. ‘The mills of the gods grind slowly, but they grind +exceeding fine,’” she quoted, saucily.</p> +<p>“Thank Heaven the time is not far distant when I shall be +able to do as I please.” He repeated the words slowly after +her, each one sinking into his heart like a poisoned arrow. +“So you would thank Heaven for my death, would you?” he +cried, with passion rising to a white heat. “Well, this is no +better than I could expect from the daughter––of such a +mother.”</p> +<p>He had never intended speaking those words; but she goaded +him on to it with her taunting, scornful smile, reminding +him so bitterly of the one great error of his past life.</p> +<p>He was little like the kind, courteous master of Whitestone +Hall, whom none named but to praise, as he stood there watching +the immovable face of his daughter. All the bitterness of +his nature was by passion rocked. No look of pain or anguish +touched the dark beauty of that southern face at the mention +of her mother’s name.</p> +<p>“You have spoken well,” she said. “I am her child. +You speak of love,” she cried, contemptuously. “Have you +not told me, a thousand times, you never cared for my mother? +How, then, could I expect you to care for me? Have you +not cried out unceasingly for the golden-haired young wife and +the babe you lost, and that you wished Heaven had taken +you too? Did I ever hear my mother’s name upon your lips +except with a sneer? Do you expect these things made that +mother’s child more fond of you, were you twenty times my +father?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span></div> +<p>She stood up before him, proudly defiant, like a beautiful +tragedy queen, the sunlight slanting on the golden vines of her +amber satin robe, on the long, dark, silken curls fastened with +a ruby star, and on the deep crimson-hearted passion-roses +that quivered on her heaving breast. There was not one feature +of that gloriously dark face that resembled the proud, cold +man sitting opposite her.</p> +<p>He knew all she had said was quite true. He had tried so +hard to love this beautiful queenly girl from her infancy up. +He was tender of heart, honest and true; but an insurmountable +barrier seemed ever between them; each year found them +further apart.</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst lived over again in those few moments the +terrible folly that had cursed his youth, as he watched the +passion-rocked face before him.</p> +<p>“Youth is blind and will not see,” had been too bitterly +true with him. It was in his college days, when the world +seemed all gayety, youth and sunshine to him, he first met +the beautiful face that was to darken all of his after life. He +was young and impulsive; he thought it was love that filled +his heart for the beautiful stranger who appeared alone and +friendless in that little college town.</p> +<p>He never once asked who or what she was, or from whence +she came, this beautiful creature with the large, dark, dreamy +eyes that thrilled his heart into love. She carried the town by +storm; every young man at the college was deeply, desperately +in love. But Basil, the handsomest and wealthiest of them +all, thought what a lark it would be to steal a march on them +all by marrying the dark-eyed beauty then and there. He not +only thought it, but executed it, but it was not the lark that +he thought it was going to be. For one short happy week he +lived in a fool’s paradise, then a change came over the spirit +of his dreams. In that one week she had spent his year’s income +and all the money he could borrow, then petulantly left +him in anger.</p> +<p>For two long years he never looked upon her face again. +One stormy night she returned quite unexpectedly at Whitestone +Hall, bringing with her their little child Pluma, and, +placing her in her father’s arms, bitter recriminations followed. +Bitterly Basil Hurlhurst repented that terrible mistake of his +youth, that hasty marriage.</p> +<p>When the morning light dawned he took his wife and child +from Whitestone Hall––took them abroad. What did it matter +to him where they went? Life was the same to him in one +part of the world as another. For a year they led a weary +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +life of it. Heaven only knew how weary he was of the woman +the law called his wife!</p> +<p>One night, in a desperate fit of anger, she threw herself into +the sea; her body was never recovered. Then the master of +Whitestone Hall returned with his child, a sadder and wiser +man.</p> +<p>But the bitterest drop in his cup had been added last. The +golden-haired young wife, the one sweet love whom he had +married last, was taken from him; even her little child, tiny +image of that fair young mother, had not been spared him.</p> +<p>How strange it was such a passionate yearning always came +over him when he thought of his child!</p> +<p>When he saw a fair, golden-haired young girl, with eyes of +blue, the pain in his heart almost stifled him. Some strange +unaccountable fate urged him to ever seek for that one face +even in the midst of crowds. It was a mad, foolish fancy, yet +it was the one consolation of Basil Hurlhurst’s weary, tempest +tossed life.</p> +<p>No wonder he set his teeth hard together as he listened to +the cold words of the proud, peerless beauty before him, who +bore every lineament of her mother’s dark, fatal beauty––this +daughter who scornfully spoke of the hour when he should die +as of some happy, long-looked-for event.</p> +<p>Those waving cotton-fields that stretched out on all sides +as far as the eye could reach, like a waving field of snow, laid +waste beneath the fire fiend’s scorching breath! Never––never!</p> +<p>Then and there the proud, self-conscious young heiress lost +all chances of reigning a regal queen, by <i>fair</i> means, of Whitestone +Hall.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII' id='CHAPTER_XXIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>The servant who opened the door for Daisy looked earnestly +at the fair, pleading young face, framed in rings of golden +hair, so pure and spiritual that it looked like an angel’s with +the soft white moonlight falling over it.</p> +<p>“You will not refuse me,” she repeated, timidly. “I +must speak to Mrs. Lyon.”</p> +<p>“You have come too late,” he replied, gently; “Mrs. Lyon +is dead.”</p> +<p>The man never forgot the despairing look of horror that +deepened in the childish blue eyes raised to his.</p> +<p>“Rex’s mother dead!” she repeated, slowly, wondering if +she had heard aright. “Oh, my poor Rex, my poor Rex!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span></div> +<p>How she longed to go to him and comfort him in that terrible +hour, but she dared not intrude upon him.</p> +<p>“If there is any message you would like to leave,” said the +kind-hearted Parker, “I will take it to Mr. Rex.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Daisy, shaking her head, “I have no message +to leave; perhaps I will come again––after this is all over,” she +made answer, hesitatingly; her brain was in a whirl; she wanted +to get away all by herself to think. “Please don’t say any +one was here,” she said, quickly; “I––I don’t want any one +to know.”</p> +<p>The sweet, plaintive voice, as sweet as the silvery note of a +forest bird, went straight to his heart.</p> +<p>Whatever the mission of this beautiful, mysterious visitor, +he would certainly respect her wishes.</p> +<p>“I shall not mention it if you do not wish it,” he said.</p> +<p>“Thank you,” she replied, simply; “you are very kind. +My life seems made up of disappointments,” she continued, as +she walked slowly home under the restless, sighing green +branches.</p> +<p>It seemed so indeed. She was so young and inexperienced +to be thrown so entirely upon the cold, pitiless world––cut off +so entirely from all human sympathy. She entered the +house quite unobserved. Eve––bright, merry, dashing Eve––was +singing like a lark in the drawing-room, making the old +house echo with her bright young voice.</p> +<p>“How happy she is!” thought Daisy, wistfully. “She has +home, friends, and love, while I have nothing that makes life +worth the living.”</p> +<p>Like a shadow, she flitted on through the dim, shadowy hall, +toward her own little room. She saw Gertie’s door was ajar +as she passed it, and the sound of her own name caused her to +pause voluntarily.</p> +<p>It was very natural for Daisy to pause. How many are +there who would have passed on quietly, with no desire to +know what was being said of themselves, when they heard their +own names mentioned in such a sneering manner? Daisy certainly +meant no harm by it; she paused, thoughtfully and +curiously, as any one would have done.</p> +<p>“I am sure I don’t like it,” Gertie was saying, spitefully. +“It is an actual shame allowing Daisy Brooks to remain here. +Uncle Jet was a mean old thing to send her here, where there +were three marriageable young ladies. I tell you he did it out +of pure spite.”</p> +<p>“I believe it,” answered Bess, spiritedly. “Every one of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +my beaus either hints for an introduction or asks for it outright.”</p> +<p>“What do you tell them?” questions Gertie, eagerly.</p> +<p>“Tell them! Why, I look exceedingly surprised, replying: +‘I do not know to whom you refer. We have no company at +the house just now.’ ‘I mean that beautiful, golden-haired +little fairy, with the rosy cheeks and large blue eyes. If not +your guest, may I ask who she is?’ I am certainly compelled +to answer so direct a thrust,” continued Bess, angrily; “and +I ask in well-feigned wonder: ‘Surely you do not mean Daisy +Brooks, my mother’s paid companion?’”</p> +<p>“What do they say to that?” asked Gertie, laughing heartily +at her elder sister’s ingenuity, and tossing her curl papers +until every curl threatened to tumble down. “That settles +it, doesn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Mercy, no!” cried Bess, raising her eyebrows; “not a bit +of it. The more I say against her––in a sweet way, of course––the +more they are determined to form her acquaintance.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see what every one can see in that little pink-and-white +baby-face of hers to rave over so!” cried Gertie, hotly. +“I can’t imagine where in the world people see her. I have +as much as told her she was not expected to come into the parlor +or drawing-room when strangers were there, and what do +you suppose she said?”</p> +<p>“Cried, perhaps,” said Bess, yawning with ennui.</p> +<p>“She did nothing of the kind,” retorted Gertie. “She +seized my hand, and said: ‘Oh, Miss Gertrude, that is very +kind of you, indeed! I thank you ever so much!’”</p> +<p>“Pshaw!” cried Bess, contemptuously. “That was a trick +to make you believe she did not want to be observed by our +guests. She is a sly, designing little creature, with her pretty +face and soft, childish ways.”</p> +<p>“But there is one point that seriously troubles me,” said +Gertie, fastening the pink satin bow on her tiny slipper more +securely, and breaking off the thread with a nervous twitch. +“I am seriously afraid, if Rex were to see her, that would be +the end of our castle in the air. Daisy Brooks has just the +face to attract a handsome, debonair young fellow like Rex.”</p> +<p>“You can depend upon it he shall never see her,” said +Bess, decidedly. “Where there’s a will there’s a way.”</p> +<p>“I have never been actually jealous of anyone before,” said +Gertie, flushing furiously, as she acknowledged the fact; “but +that Daisy has such a way of attracting people toward her +they quite forget your presence when she is around. ‘When +one rival leaves the field, another one is sure to come to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +fore.’ That’s a true saying,” said Gertie, meditatively. “You +see, he did not marry the heiress of Whitestone Hall. So he +is still in the market, to be captured by some lucky girl.”</p> +<p>“Well, if I am the lucky one, you must forgive me, Gertie. +All is fair in love and war, you know. Besides, his wealth is +too tempting to see slip quietly by without a struggle.”</p> +<p>Before she could reply Eve popped in through the long +French window that opened out on the porch.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m so tired of hearing you two talk of lovers and +riches!” she cried, throwing herself down on the sofa. “I +do hate to hear love weighed against riches, as if it were a purchasable +article. According to your ideas, if a fellow was worth +a hundred thousand, you would love him moderately; but if +he was worth half a million, you could afford to love him immensely.”</p> +<p>“You have got a sensible idea of the matter,” said Bess, +coolly.</p> +<p>“For shame!” cried Eve, in a hot fury. “It’s an actual +sin to talk in that way. If a handsome young man loves you, +and you love him, why, you ought to marry him if he hadn’t +a dollar in the world!”</p> +<p>Gertie and the worldly-wise Bess laughed at their younger +sister’s enthusiasm.</p> +<p>“Now, there’s Rex Lyon, for instance,” persisted Eve, absolutely +refusing to be silenced. “I would wager a box of the +best kid gloves either one of you would marry him to-morrow, +if he were to ask you, if he hadn’t a penny in his pocket.”</p> +<p>“Pshaw!” reiterated Gertie, and Bess murmured something +about absurd ideas; but nevertheless both sisters were blushing +furiously to the very roots of their hair. They well knew in +their hearts what she said was perfectly true.</p> +<p>“Eve,” said Bess, laying her hand coaxingly on the young +rebel’s arm, “Gertie and I want you to promise us something. +Come, now, consent that you will do as we wish, that’s a good +girl.”</p> +<p>“How can I promise before I know what you want?” said +Eve, petulantly. “You might want the man in the moon, +after you’ve tried and failed to get his earthly brethren, for +all I know!”</p> +<p>“Eve, you are actually absurd!” cried Bess, sharply. “This +is merely a slight favor we wish you to do.”</p> +<p>“If you warn her not to do a thing, that is just what she +will set her heart upon doing,” said Gertie, significantly.</p> +<p>By this time Eve’s curiosity was well up.</p> +<p>“You may as well tell me anyhow,” she said; “for if you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +don’t, and I ever find out what it is, I’ll do my very worst, +because you kept it from me.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Gertie, eagerly, “we want you to promise us +not to give Daisy Brooks an introduction to Rex Lyon.”</p> +<p>A defiant look stole over Eve’s mischievous face.</p> +<p>“If he asks me, I’m to turn and walk off, or I’m to say, +‘No, sir, I am under strict orders from my marriageable sisters +not to.’ Is that what you mean?”</p> +<p>“Eve,” they both cried in chorus, “don’t be unsisterly; +don’t put a stumbling-block in our path; rather remove it!”</p> +<p>“I shall not bind myself to such a promise!” cried Eve. +“You are trying to spoil my pet scheme. I believe you two +are actually witches and guessed it. What put it into your +heads that I had any such intentions anyhow?”</p> +<p>“Then you were actually thinking of going against our interest +in that way,” cried Gertie, white to the very lips, “you +insolent little minx!”</p> +<p>“I don’t choose to remain in such polite society,” said Eve, +with a mocking courtesy, skipping toward the door. “I may +take a notion to write a little note to Mr. Rex, inviting him +over here to see our household fairy, just as the spirit moves +me.”</p> +<p>This was really more than Gertie’s warm, southern temper +could bear. She actually flew at the offending Eve in her +rage; but Eve was nimble of foot and disappeared up the stairway, +three steps at a bound.</p> +<p>“What a vixen our Gertie is growing to be!” she cried, +pantingly, as she reached the top step.</p> +<p>She saw a light in Daisy’s room, and tapped quietly on the +door.</p> +<p>“Is that you, Eve?” cried a smothered voice from the pillows.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Eve; “I’d like very much to come in. +May I?”</p> +<p>For answer, Daisy opened the door, but Eve stood quite still +on the threshold.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, Daisy, have you been crying?” she +demanded. “Why, your eyelids are red and swollen, and +your eyes glow like the stars. Has Gertie or Bess said anything +cross to you?” she inquired, smoothing back the soft +golden curls that clustered round the white brow.</p> +<p>“No,” said Daisy, choking down a hard sob; “only I am +very unhappy, Eve, and I feel just––just as if every one in +the world hated me.”</p> +<p>“How long have you been up here in your room?” asked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +Eve, suspiciously, fearing Daisy had by chance overheard the +late conversation down-stairs.</p> +<p>“Quite an hour,” answered Daisy, truthfully.</p> +<p>“Then you did not hear what I was talking about down-stairs, +did you?” she inquired, anxiously.</p> +<p>“No,” said Daisy, “you were playing over a new waltz +when I came upstairs.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Eve, breathing freer, thinking to herself, “She +has not heard what we said. I am thankful for that.”</p> +<p>“You must not talk like that, Daisy,” she said, gayly, clasping +her arms caressingly around the slender figure leaning +against the casement; “I predict great things in store for you––wonderful +things. Do not start and look at me so curiously, +for I shall not tell you anything else, for it is getting dangerously +near a certain forbidden subject. You know you +warned me not to talk to you of love or lovers. I intend to +have a great surprise for you. That is all I’m going to tell +you now.”</p> +<p>Eve was almost frightened at the rapture that lighted up the +beautiful face raised to her own.</p> +<p>“Has any one called for me, Eve?” she asked, piteously. +“Oh, Eve, tell me quickly. I have hoped against hope, +almost afraid to indulge so sweet a dream. Has any one inquired +for me?”</p> +<p>Eve shook her head, sorely puzzled.</p> +<p>“Were you expecting any one to call?” she asked. She saw +the light die quickly out of the blue eyes and the rich peachlike +bloom from the delicate, dimpled cheeks. “I know something +is troubling you greatly, little Daisy,” she said, “and I +sympathize with you even if I may not share your secret.”</p> +<p>“Every one is so cold and so cruel to me, I think I should +die if I were to lose your friendship, Eve,” she said.</p> +<p>Eve held the girl’s soft white hand in hers. “You will +never die, then, if you wait for that event to happen. When +I like a person, I like them for all time. I never could pretend +a friendship I did not feel. And I said to myself the first +moment I saw you: ‘What a sweet littly fairy! I shall love +her, I’m sure.’”</p> +<p>“And do you love me?” asked Daisy.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Eve; “my friendship is a lasting one. I could +do almost anything for you.”</p> +<p>She wondered why Daisy took her face between her soft little +palms and looked so earnestly down into her eyes, and kissed +her lips so repeatedly.</p> +<p>Poor Daisy! if she had only confided in Eve––reckless, impulsive, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +warm-hearted, sympathetic Eve––it might have been +better for her. “No matter what you might hear of me in +the future, no matter what fate might tempt me to do, promise +me, Eve, that you, of all the world, will believe in me, you will +not lose your faith in me.” The sweet voice sounded hollow +and unnatural. “There are dark, pitiful secrets in many +lives,” she said, “that drive one to the very verge of madness +in their woe. If you love me, pray for me, Eve. My feet +are on the edge of a terrible precipice.”</p> +<p>In after years Eve never forgot the haunted look of despair +that crossed the fair face of Daisy Brooks, as the words broke +from her lips in a piteous cry.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIV' id='CHAPTER_XXIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +</div> +<p>The announcement of Mrs. Lyon’s sudden and unexpected +death caused great excitement and consternation the next +morning at Glengrove.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear!” cried Gertie, “how provokingly unfortunate +for her to die just now! Why couldn’t she have waited until +after our birthday party? Of course Rex wouldn’t be expected +to come now; and this whole matter was arranged especially +for him; and my beautiful lilac silk is all made, and so bewitchingly +lovely, too!”</p> +<p>“What can’t be cured must be endured, you know,” said +Bess; “and now the best thing to be done is to send a note of +condolence to him, extending our deepest sympathy, and offering +him any assistance in our power; and be sure to add: ‘We +would be very pleased to have Birdie come over here until you +can make other arrangements for her.’”</p> +<p>“Have Birdie here!” flashed Gertie, angrily. “I actually +think you have gone crazy!”</p> +<p>“Well, there is certainly a method in my madness,” remarked +Bess. “Aren’t you quick-witted enough to understand +that would be a sure way of bringing Rex over here every +day?––he would come to see his sister––and that is quite a +point gained.”</p> +<p>“You are rather clever, Bess; I never thought of that.”</p> +<p>And straightway the perfumed little note was dispatched, +bearing Gertie’s monogram and tender-worded sympathy to +the handsome young heir, who sat all alone in that darkened +chamber, wondering why Heaven had been so unkind to him.</p> +<p>An hour later Bess and Gertie were in the library arranging +some new volumes on the shelves. Mrs. Glenn sat in a large +easy-chair superintending the affair, while Daisy stood at an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +open window, holding the book from which she had been reading +aloud in her restless fingers, her blue eyes gazing earnestly +on the distant curling smoke that rose up lazily from the +chimneys of Rex’s home, and upon the brilliant sunshine that +lighted up the eastern windows with a blaze of glory––as if +there was no such thing as death or sorrow within those palatial +walls––when Rex’s answer was received.</p> +<p>“It is from Rex!” cried Gertie, all in a flutter. “Shall I +read it aloud, mamma?” she asked, glancing furtively at +Daisy, who stood at the window, her pale, death-like face half +buried in the lace curtains.</p> +<p>“It is certainly not a personal letter,” said Bess, maliciously +glancing at the superscription. “Don’t you see it is addressed +to ‘Mrs. Glenn and daughters.’”</p> +<p>“In a time like that people don’t think much of letters,” +commented Mrs. Glenn, apologetically. “Read the letter +aloud, of course, my dear.”</p> +<p>It read:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class='smcap'>Dear Ladies</span>,––I thank you more than I can express for +your kind sympathy in my present sad bereavement. I would +gladly have accepted your offer of bringing my dear little +orphan sister to you, had I not received a telegram this morning +from Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, West +Virginia, announcing her intention of coming on at once, accompanied +by Mrs. Corliss, to take charge of little Birdie.</p> +<p>“Again thanking you for the courtesy and kindness shown +me, I am</p> +<p class='ralign'>“Yours very truly,<span class='rindent8'> </span><br /> +“<span class='smcap'>Rexford Lyon</span>.”<span class='rindent4'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>There was a low, gasping, piteous cry; and the little figure +at the window slipped down among the soft, billowy curtains +in a deadly swoon; but the three, so deeply engrossed in discussing +the contents of the note, did not notice it. At last +Daisy opened her eyes, and the blue eyes were dazed with pain. +She could hear them coupling the names of Rex and Pluma +Hurlhurst. Rex––her husband!</p> +<p>Daisy was blind and stupefied. She groped rather than +walked from the library––away from the three, who scarcely +noticed her absence.</p> +<p>Who cared that her heart was broken? Who cared that the +cruel stab had gone home to her tender, bleeding heart; that +the sweet young face was whiter than the petals of the star-bells +tossing their white plumes against the casement?</p> +<p>Slowly, blindly, with one hand grasping the balusters, she +went up the broad staircase to her own room.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></div> +<p>She tried to think of everything on the way except the one +thing that had taken place. She thought of the story she had +read, of a girl who was slain by having a dagger plunged into +her breast. The girl ran a short distance, and when the dagger +was drawn from the wound, she fell down dead. In some +way she fancied she was like that girl––that, when she should +reach her own room and stand face to face with her own pain, +she should drop down dead.</p> +<p>The door was closed, and she stood motionless, trying to +understand and realize what she had heard.</p> +<p>“Have my senses deceived me?” She said the words over +and over to herself. “Did I dream it? Can it even be possible +Pluma Hurlhurst is coming here, coming to the home +where I should have been? God help me. Coming to comfort +Rex––my husband!”</p> +<p>She could fancy the darkly beautiful face bending over him; +her white jeweled hands upon his shoulder, or, perhaps, +smoothing back the bonny brown clustering curls from his +white brow.</p> +<p>“My place should have been by his side,” she continued.</p> +<p>It hurt and pained her to hear the name of the man she +loved dearer than life mentioned with the name of Pluma +Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>“Oh, Rex, my love, my love!” she cried out, “I can not +bear it any longer. The sun of my life has gone down in gloom +and chill. Oh, Rex, my husband, I have not the strength nor +the courage to bear it. I am a coward. I can not give you +up. We are living apart under the blue, smiling sky and the +golden sun. Yet in the sight of the angels, I am your wife.”</p> +<p>Suddenly, the solemn bells from Rex’s home commenced +tolling, and through the leafy branches of the trees she caught +a glimpse of a white face and bowed head, and of a proud, +cold face bending caressingly over it, just as she had pictured +it in her imagination.</p> +<p>Dear Heaven! it was Rex and Pluma! She did not moan. +She did not cry out, nor utter even a sigh. Like one turned +to marble she, the poor little misguided child-wife, stood +watching them with an intentness verging almost into madness.</p> +<p>She saw him lift his head wearily from his white hands, rise +slowly, and then, side by side, both disappeared from the window.</p> +<p>After that Daisy never knew how the moments passed. She +remembered the tidy little waiting-maid coming to her and +asking if she would please come down to tea. She shook her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +head but no sound issued from the white lips, and the maid +went softly away, closing the door behind her.</p> +<p>Slowly the sun sunk in the west in a great red ball of fire. +The light died out of the sky, and the song birds trilled their +plaintive good-night songs in the soft gloaming. Still Daisy +sat with her hands crossed in her lap, gazing intently at the +window, where she had seen Pluma standing with Rex, her +husband.</p> +<p>A hand turned the knob of her door.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear me,” cried Gertie, “you are all in the dark. I +do not see you. Are you here, Daisy Brooks?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Daisy, controlling her voice by a violent effort. +“Won’t you sit down? I will light the gas.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, indeed!” cried Gertie. “I came up to ask you if +you would please sew a little on my ball dress to-night. I can +not use it just now; still, there is no need of putting it away +half finished.”</p> +<p>Sew on a ball dress while her heart was breaking! Oh, how +could she do it? Quietly she followed Gertie to her pretty little +blue and gold boudoir, making no remonstrance. She was +to sew on a ball dress while the heiress of Whitestone Hall was +consoling her young husband in his bitter sorrow?</p> +<p>The shimmering billows of silk seemed swimming before her +eyes, and the frost-work of seed-pearls to waver through the +blinding tears that would force themselves to her eyes. Eve +was not there. How pitifully lonely poor Daisy felt! The +face, bent so patiently over the lilac silk, had a strange story +written upon it. But the two girls, discussing the events of +the day, did not glance once in her direction; their thoughts +and conversation were of the handsome young heiress and Rex.</p> +<p>“For once in your life you were wrong,” said Bess. “The +way affairs appear now does not look much like a broken-off +marriage, I can assure you.”</p> +<p>“Those who have seen her say she is peculiarly beautiful +and fascinating, though cold, reserved, and as haughty as a +queen,” said Gertie.</p> +<p>“Cold and reserved,” sneered Bess. “I guess you would +not have thought so if you had been at the drawing-room window +to-day and seen her bending over Rex so lovingly. I declare +I expected every moment to see her kiss him.”</p> +<p>The box which held the seed-pearls dropped to the floor with +a crash, and the white, glistening beads were scattered about +in all directions.</p> +<p>“Why, what a careless creature you are, Daisy Brooks!” +cried Gertie, in dismay. “Just see what you have done! Half +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +of them will be lost, and what is not lost will be smashed, and +I had just enough to finish that lily on the front breadth and +twine among the blossoms for my hair. What do you suppose +I’m going to do now, you provoking girl? It is actually enough +to make one cry.”</p> +<p>“I am so sorry,” sighed Daisy, piteously.</p> +<p>“Sorry! Will that bring back my seed-pearls? I have half +a mind to make mamma deduct the amount from your salary.”</p> +<p>“You may have it all if it will only replace them,” said +Daisy, earnestly. “I think, though, I have gathered them +all up.”</p> +<p>A great, round tear rolled off from her long, silky eyelashes +and into the very heart of the frosted lily over which she bent, +but the lily’s petals seemed to close about it, leaving no trace +of its presence.</p> +<p>Bessie and Gertie openly discussed their chagrin and keen +disappointment, yet admitting what a handsome couple Rex +and Pluma made––he so courteous and noble, she so royal and +queenly.</p> +<p>“Of course we must call upon her if she is to be Rex’s +wife,” said Gertie, spitefully. “I foresee she will be exceedingly +popular.”</p> +<p>“We must also invite her to Glengrove,” said Bess, thoughtfully. +“It is the least we can do, and it is expected of us. I +quite forgot to mention one of their servants was telling Jim +both Rex and little Birdie intend to accompany Miss Hurlhurst +back to Whitestone Hall as soon after the funeral as matters +can be arranged.”</p> +<p>“Why, that is startling news indeed! Why, then, they will +probably leave some time this week!” cried Gertie.</p> +<p>“Most probably,” said Bess. “You ought certainly to send +over your note this evening––it is very early yet.”</p> +<p>“There is no one to send,” said Gertie. “Jim has driven +over to Natchez, and there is no one else to go.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps Daisy will go for you,” suggested Bess.</p> +<p>There was no need of being jealous <i>now</i> of Daisy’s beauty +in that direction. Gertie gladly availed herself of the suggestion.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” she said, turning abruptly to the quivering little +figure, whose face drooped over the lilac silk, “never mind +finishing that dress to-night. I wish you to take a note over +to the large gray stone house yonder, and be sure to deliver it +to Mr. Rex Lyon himself.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXV' id='CHAPTER_XXV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> +</div> +<p>Gertie Glenn never forgot the despairing cry that broke +from Daisy’s white lips as she repeated her command:</p> +<p>“I wish you to deliver this note to Mr. Rex Lyon himself.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Miss Gertie,” she cried, clasping her hands together +in an agony of entreaty, “I can not––oh, indeed I can not! +Ask anything of me but that and I will gladly do it!”</p> +<p>Both girls looked at her in sheer astonishment.</p> +<p>“What is the reason you can not?” cried Gertie, in utter +amazement. “I do not comprehend you.”</p> +<p>“I––I can not take the note,” she said, in a frightened +whisper. “I do not––I––”</p> +<p>She stopped short in utter confusion.</p> +<p>“I choose you shall do just as I bid you,” replied Gertie, in +her imperious, scornful anger. “It really seems to me you +forget your position here, Miss Brooks. How dare you refuse +me?”</p> +<p>Opposition always strengthened Gertie’s decision, and she +determined Daisy should take her note to Rex Lyon at all +hazards.</p> +<p>The eloquent, mute appeal in the blue eyes raised to her own +was utterly lost on her.</p> +<p>“The pride of these dependent companions is something +ridiculous,” she went on, angrily. “You consider yourself +too fine, I suppose, to be made a messenger of.” Gertie +laughed aloud, a scornful, mocking laugh. “Pride and poverty +do not work very well together. You may go to your +room now and get your hat and shawl. I shall have the letter +written in a very few minutes. There will be no use appealing +to mamma. You ought to know by this time we overrule her +objections always.”</p> +<p>It was too true, Mrs. Glenn never had much voice in a matter +where Bess or Gertie had decided the case.</p> +<p>Like one in a dream Daisy turned from them. She never +remembered how she gained her own room. With cold, tremulous +fingers she fastened her hat, tucking the bright golden +hair carefully beneath her veil, and threw her shawl over her +shoulders, just as Gertie approached, letter in hand.</p> +<p>“You need not go around by the main road,” she said, +“there is a much nearer path leading down to the stone wall. +You need not wait for an answer: there will be none. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +servants over there are awkward, blundering creatures––do +not trust it to them––you must deliver it to Rex himself.”</p> +<p>“I make one last appeal to you, Miss Gertie. Indeed, it is +not pride that prompts me. I could not bear it. Have pity +on me. You are gentle and kind to others; please, oh, please +be merciful to me!”</p> +<p>“I have nothing more to say upon the subject––I have said +you were to go. You act as if I were sending you to some +place where you might catch the scarlet fever or the mumps. +You amuse me; upon my word you do. Rex is not dangerous, +neither is he a Bluebeard; his only fault is being alarmingly +handsome. The best advice I can give you is, don’t +admire him too much. He should be labeled, ‘Out of the +market.’”</p> +<p>Gertie tripped gayly from the room, her crimson satin ribbons +fluttering after her, leaving a perceptible odor of violets +in the room, while Daisy clutched the note in her cold, nervous +grasp, walking like one in a terrible dream through the bright +patches of glittering moonlight, through the sweet-scented, +rose-bordered path, on through the dark shadows of the trees +toward the home of Rex––her husband.</p> +<p>A soft, brooding silence lay over the sleeping earth as Daisy, +with a sinking heart, drew near the house. Her soft footfalls +on the green mossy earth made no sound.</p> +<p>Silently as a shadow she crept up to the blossom-covered +porch; some one was standing there, leaning against the very +pillar around which she had twined her arms as she watched +Rex’s shadow on the roses.</p> +<p>The shifting moonbeams pierced the white, fleecy clouds +that enveloped them, and as he turned his face toward her she +saw it was Rex. She could almost have reached out her hand +and touched him from where she stood. She was sorely afraid +her face or her voice might startle him if she spoke to him +suddenly.</p> +<p>“I do not need to speak,” she thought. “I will go up to +him and lay the letter in his hand.”</p> +<p>Then a great intense longing came over her to hear his +voice and know that he was speaking to her. She had quite +decided to pursue this course, when the rustle of a silken garment +fell upon her ear. She knew the light tread of the slippered +feet but too well––it was Pluma. She went up to him +in her usual caressing fashion, laying her white hand on his +arm.</p> +<p>“Do you know you have been standing here quite two hours, +Rex, watching the shadows of the vine-leaves? I have longed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +to come up and ask you what interest those dancing shadows +had for you, but I could not make up my mind to disturb you. +I often fancy you do not know how much time you spend in +thought.”</p> +<p>Pluma was wondering if he was thinking of that foolish, +romantic fancy that had come so near separating them––his +boyish fancy for Daisy Brooks, their overseer’s niece. No, +surely not. He must have forgotten her long ago.</p> +<p>“These reveries seem to have grown into a habit with me,” +he said, dreamily; “almost a second nature, of late. If you +were to come and talk to me at such times, you would break +me of it.”</p> +<p>The idea pleased her. A bright flush rose to her face, and +she made him some laughing reply, and he looked down upon +her with a kindly smile.</p> +<p>Oh! the torture of it to the poor young wife standing watching +them, with heart on fire in the deep shadow of the crimson-hearted +passion-flowers that quivered on the intervening +vines. The letter she held in her hand slipped from her fingers +into the bushes all unheeded. She had but one thought––she +must get away. The very air seemed to stifle her; her heart +seemed numb––an icy band seemed pressing round it, and her +poor forehead was burning hot. It did not matter much +where she went, nobody loved her, nobody cared for her. As +softly as she came, she glided down the path that led to the +entrance-gate beyond. She passed through the moonlighted +grounds, where the music and fragrance of the summer night +was at its height. The night wind stirred the pink clover and +the blue-bells beneath her feet. Her eyes were hot and dry; +tears would have been a world of relief to her, but none came +to her parched eyelids.</p> +<p>She paid little heed to the direction she took. One idea +alone took possession of her––she must get away.</p> +<p>“If I could only go back to dear old Uncle John,” she +sighed. “His love has never failed me.”</p> +<p>It seemed long years back since she had romped with him, a +happy, merry child, over the cotton fields, and he had called +her his sunbeam during all those years when no one lived at +Whitestone Hall and the wild ivy climbed riotously over the +windows and doors. Even Septima’s voice would have sounded +so sweet to her. She would have lived over again those +happy, childish days, if she only could. She remembered how +Septima would send her to the brook for water, and how she +sprinkled every flower in the path-way that bore her name; +and how Septima would scold her when she returned with her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +bucket scarce half full; and how she had loved to dream away +those sunny summer days, lying under the cool, shady trees, +listening to the songs the robins sang as they glanced down at +her with their little sparkling eyes.</p> +<p>How she had dreamed of the gallant young hero who was to +come to her some day. She had wondered how she would know +him, and what were the words he first would say! If he would +come riding by, as the judge did when “Maud Muller stood in +the hay-fields;” and she remembered, too, the story of “Rebecca +at the Well.” A weary smile flitted over her face as she +remembered when she went to the brook she had always put +on her prettiest blue ribbons, in case she might meet her hero.</p> +<p>Oh, those sweet, bright, rosy dreams of girlhood! What a +pity it is they do not last forever! Those girlish dreams, where +glowing fancy reigns supreme, and the prosaic future is all +unknown. She remembered her meeting with Rex, how every +nerve in her whole being thrilled, and how she had felt her +cheeks grow flaming hot, just as she had read they would do +when she met the right one. That was how she had known +Rex was the right one when she had shyly glanced up, from +under her long eyelashes, into the gay, brown hazel eyes, fixed +upon her so quizzically, as he took the heavy basket from her +slender arms, that never-to-be-forgotten June day, beneath the +blossoming magnolia-tree.</p> +<p>Poor child! her life had been a sad romance since then. +How strange it was she was fleeing from the young husband +whom she had married and was so quickly parted from!</p> +<p>All this trouble had come about because she had so courageously +rescued her letter from Mme. Whitney.</p> +<p>“If he had not bound me to secrecy, I could have have cried +out before the whole world I was his wife,” she thought.</p> +<p>A burning flush rose to her face as she thought how cruelly +he had suspected her, this poor little child-bride who had never +known one wrong or sinful thought in her pure, innocent +young life.</p> +<p>If he had only given her the chance of explaining how she +had happened to be there with Stanwick; if they had taken her +back she must have confessed about the letter and who Rex +was and what he was to her.</p> +<p>Even Stanwick’s persecution found an excuse in her innocent, +unsuspecting little heart.</p> +<p>“He sought to save me from being taken back when he +called me his wife,” she thought. “He believed I was free to +woo and win, because I dared not tell him I was Rex’s wife.” +Yet the thought of Stanwick always brought a shudder to her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +pure young mind. She could not understand why he would +have resorted to such desperate means to gain an unwilling +bride.</p> +<p>“Not yet seventeen. Ah, what a sad love-story hers had +been. How cruelly love’s young dream had been blighted,” +she told herself; and yet she would not have exchanged that +one thrilling, ecstatic moment of rapture when Rex had clasped +her in his arms and whispered: “My darling wife,” for a +whole lifetime of calm happiness with any one else.</p> +<p>On and on she walked through the violet-studded grass, +thinking––thinking. Strange fancies came thronging to her +overwrought brain. She pushed her veil back from her face +and leaned against the trunk of a tree; her brain was dizzy +and her thoughts were confused; the very stars seemed dancing +riotously in the blue sky above her, and the branches of +the trees were whispering strange fancies. Suddenly a horseman, +riding a coal-black charger, came cantering swiftly up +the long avenue of trees. He saw the quiet figure standing +leaning against the drooping branches.</p> +<p>“I will inquire the way,” he said to himself, drawing rein +beside her. “Can you tell me, madame, if this is the most +direct road leading to Glengrove and that vicinity? I am looking +for a hostelry near it. I seem to have lost my way. Will +you kindly direct me?” he asked, “or to the home of Mr. +Rex Lyon?”</p> +<p>The voice sounded strangely familiar to Daisy. She was +dimly conscious some one was speaking to her. She raised her +face up and gazed at the speaker. The cold, pale moonlight +fell full upon it, clearly revealing its strange, unearthly whiteness, +and the bright flashing eyes, gazing dreamily past the +terror-stricken man looking down on her, with white, livid lips +and blanched, horror-stricken face. His eyes almost leaped +from their sockets in abject terror, as Lester Stanwick gazed +on the upturned face by the roadside.</p> +<p>“My God, do I dream?” he cried, clutching at the pommel +of his saddle. “Is this the face of Daisy Brooks, or is it +a specter, unable to sleep in the depths of her tomb, come +back to haunt me for driving her to her doom?”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVI' id='CHAPTER_XXVI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> +</div> +<p>Rex and Pluma talked for some time out in the moonlight, +then Rex excused himself, and on the plea of having important +business letters to write retired to the library.</p> +<p>For some minutes Pluma leaned thoughtfully against the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +railing. The night was still and clear; the moon hung over +the dark trees; floods of silvery light bathed the waters of the +glittering sea, the sleeping flowers and the grass, and on the +snowy orange-blossoms and golden fruit amid the green foliage.</p> +<p>“I shall always love this fair southern home,” she thought, +a bright light creeping into her dark, dazzling eyes. “I am +Fortune’s favorite,” she said, slowly. “I shall have the one +great prize I covet most on earth. I shall win Rex at last. I +wonder at the change in him. There was a time when I believed +he loved me. Could it be handsome, refined, courteous +Rex had more than a passing fancy for Daisy Brooks––simple, +unpretentious Daisy Brooks? Thank God she is dead!” she +cried, vehemently. “I would have periled my very soul to have +won him.”</p> +<p>Even as the thought shaped itself in her mind, a dark form +stepped cautiously forward.</p> +<p>She was not startled; a passing wonder as to who it might +be struck her. She did not think much about it; a shadow in +the moonlight did not frighten her.</p> +<p>“Pluma!” called a low, cautious voice, “come down into +the garden; I must speak with you. It is I, Lester Stanwick.”</p> +<p>In a single instant the soft love-light had faded from her +face, leaving it cold, proud, and pitiless. A vague, nameless +dread seized her. She was a courageous girl; she would not +let him know it.</p> +<p>“The mad fool!” she cried, clinching her white jeweled +hands together. “Why does he follow me here? What shall +I do? I must buy him off at any cost. I dare not defy him. +Better temporize with him.” She muttered the words aloud, +and she was shocked to see how changed and hoarse her own +voice sounded. “Women have faced more deadly peril than +this,” she muttered, “and cleverly outwitted ingenious foes. +I <i>must</i> win by stratagem.”</p> +<p>She quickly followed the tall figure down the path that +divided the little garden from the shrubbery.</p> +<p>“I knew you would not refuse me, Pluma,” he said, clasping +her hands and kissing her cold lips. He noticed the glance +she gave him had nothing in it but coldness and annoyance. +“You do not tell me you are pleased to see me, Pluma, and +yet you have promised to be my wife.” She stood perfectly +still leaning against an oleander-tree. “Why don’t you speak +to me, Pluma?” he cried. “By Heaven! I am almost beginning +to mistrust you. You remember your promise,” he said, +hurriedly––“if I removed the overseer’s niece from your path +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +you were to reward me with your heart and hand.” She +would have interrupted him, but he silenced her with a gesture. +“You said your love for Rex had turned to bitter hatred. +You found he loved the girl, and that would be a glorious revenge. +I did not have to resort to abducting her from the +seminary as we had planned. The bird flew into my grasp. +I would have placed her in the asylum you selected, but she +eluded me by leaping into the pit. I have been haunted by +her face night and day ever since. I see her face in crowds, in +the depths of the silent forest, her specter appears before me +until I fly from it like one accursed.”</p> +<p>She could not stay the passionate torrent of his words.</p> +<p>“Lester, this is all a mistake,” she said; “you have not +given me a chance to speak.” Her hands dropped nervously +by her side. There were fierce, rebellious thoughts in her heart, +but she dare not give them utterance. “What have I done to +deserve all this?” she asked, trying to assume a tender tone +she was far from feeling.</p> +<p>“What have you done?” he cried, hoarsely. “Why, I left +you at Whitestone Hall, feeling secure in the belief that I had +won you. Returning suddenly and unexpectedly, I found you +had gone to Florida, to the home of Rex Lyon. Do you know +what I would have done, Pluma, if I had found you his wife +and false to your trust?”</p> +<p>“You forget yourself, Lester,” she said; “gentlemen never +threaten women.”</p> +<p>He bit his lip angrily.</p> +<p>“There are extreme cases of desperation,” he made reply. +“You must keep your promise,” he said, determinedly. “No +other man must dare speak to you of love.”</p> +<p>She saw the angry light flame into his eyes, and trembled +under her studied composure; yet not the quiver of an eyelid +betrayed her emotion. She had not meant to quarrel with +him; for once in her life she forgot her prudence.</p> +<p>“Suppose that, by exercise of any power you think you possess, +you could really compel me to be your wife, do you think +it would benefit you? I would learn to despise you. What +would you gain by it?”</p> +<p>The answer sprung quickly to his lips: “The one great +point for which I am striving––possession of Whitestone Hall;” +but he was too diplomatic to utter the words. She saw a lurid +light in his eyes.</p> +<p>“You shall be my wife,” he said, gloomily. “If you have +been cherishing any hope of winning Rex Lyon, abandon it at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +once. As a last resort, I would explain to him how cleverly +you removed the pretty little girl he loved from his path.”</p> +<p>“You dare not!” she cried, white to the very lips. “You +have forgotten your own share in that little affair. Who would +believe you acted upon a woman’s bidding? You would soon +be called to account for it. You forget that little circumstance, +Lester; you dare not go to Rex!” He knew what she +said was perfectly true. He had not intended going to Rex; +he knew it would be as much as his life was worth to encounter +him. He was aware his name had been coupled with Daisy’s +in the journals which had described her tragic death. He +knew Rex had fallen madly, desperately in love with little +Daisy Brooks, but he did not dream he had made her his wife. +“You have not given me time to explain why I am here.”</p> +<p>“I have heard all about it,” he answered, impatiently; +“but I do not understand why they sent for you.”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Lyon requested it,” she replied, quietly. “Rex +simply obeyed her wishes.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps she looked upon you as her future daughter-in-law,” +sneered Lester, covertly. “I have followed you to +Florida to prevent it; I would follow you to the ends of the +earth to prevent it! A promise to me can not be lightly +broken.”</p> +<p>Not a feature of that proud face quivered to betray the sharp +spasm of fear that darted through her heart.</p> +<p>“You should have waited until you had cause to reproach +me, Lester,” she said, drawing her wrap closer about her and +shivering as if with cold. “I must go back to the house now; +some one might miss me.”</p> +<p>He made no reply. The wind bent the reeds, and the waves +of the sea dashed up on the distant beach with a long, low +wash. He was wondering how far she was to be trusted.</p> +<p>“You may have perfect confidence in me, Lester,” she said; +“my word ought to be sufficient,” as if quite divining his +thoughts. “You need have no fear; I will be true to you.”</p> +<p>“I shall remain away until this affair has blown over,” he +replied. “I can live as well in one part of the country as another, +thanks to the income my father left me.” He laid +great stress on the last sentence; he wanted to impress her with +the fact that he had plenty of money. “She must never +know,” he told himself, “that he had so riotously squandered +the vast inheritance that had been left him, and he was standing +on the verge of ruin.” A marriage with the wealthy heiress +would save him at the eleventh hour. “I will trust you, +Pluma,” he continued. “I know, you will keep your vow.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></div> +<p>The false ring of apparent candor did not deceive her; she +knew it would be a case of diamond cut diamond.</p> +<p>“That is spoken like your own generous self, Lester,” she +said, softly, clasping his hands in her own white, jeweled ones. +“You pained me by your distrust.”</p> +<p>He saw she was anxious to get away from him, and he bit +his lip with vexation; her pretty, coaxing manner did not deceive +him one whit, yet he clasped his arms in a very lover-like +fashion around her as he replied:</p> +<p>“Forget that it ever existed, my darling. Where there is +such ardent, passionate love, there is always more or less jealousy +and fear. Do you realize I am making an alien of myself +for your sweet sake? I could never refuse you a request. +Your slightest will has been my law. Be kind to me, Pluma.”</p> +<p>She did try to be more than agreeable and fascinating.</p> +<p>“I must remove all doubts from his mind,” she thought. +“I shall probably be Rex’s wife when we meet again. Then +his threats will be useless; I will scornfully deny it. He has +no proofs.”</p> +<p>She talked to him so gracefully, so tenderly, at times, he was +almost tempted to believe she actually cared for him more than +she would admit. Still he allowed it would do no harm to +keep a strict watch of her movements.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, Pluma, dearest,” he said, “I shall keep you +constantly advised of my whereabouts. As soon as matters can +be arranged satisfactorily, I am coming back to claim you.”</p> +<p>Another moment and she was alone, walking slowly back to +the house, a very torrent of anger in her proud, defiant heart.</p> +<p>“I must hurry matters up, delays are dangerous,” she +thought, walking slowly up the broad path toward the house.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Slowly the long hours of the night dragged themselves by, +yet Daisy did not return to Glengrove. The hours lengthened +into days, and days into weeks, still there was no trace of her +to be found. Gertie’s explanation readily accounted for her +absence.</p> +<p>“She preferred to leave us rather than deliver my note,” +she said, angrily; “and I for one am not sorry she has gone.”</p> +<p>“Rex did not mention having received it,” said Bess, +“when he came with Birdie to bid us good-bye.”</p> +<p>“She probably read it and destroyed it,” said Gertie, +“Well, there was nothing in it very particular. Toward the last +of it I mentioned I would send the note over by Daisy Brooks, +my mother’s companion. More than likely she took umbrage +at that.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></div> +<p>“That was a very unkind remark,” asserted Eve. “You +had no business to mention it at all; it was uncalled for.”</p> +<p>“Well, she would not have known it if she had not read +it,” replied Gertie. “You must admit that.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Glenn felt sorely troubled. In the short time Daisy +had been with her she had put unlimited confidence in her.</p> +<p>No one thought of searching for her; they all accepted the +facts as the case presented itself to them. Daisy had certainly +left them of her own free will.</p> +<p>Eve alone felt distressed.</p> +<p>“I know everything looks that way, but I shall never believe +it,” she cried.</p> +<p>She remembered the conversation she had so lately had with +Daisy. How she had clasped her loving little arms about her +neck, crying out:</p> +<p>“Pray for me, Eve. I am sorely tried. My feet are on +the edge of a precipice. No matter what I may be tempted to +do, do not lose faith in me, Eve; always believe in me.”</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy! what was the secret sorrow that was goading +her on to madness? Would she ever know?</p> +<p>Where was she now? Ah, who could tell?</p> +<p>A curious change seemed to come over romping, mischievous, +merry Eve; she had grown silent and thoughtful.</p> +<p>“I could never believe any one in this world was true or +pure again if I thought for one moment deceit lay brooding in +a face so fair as little Daisy Brooks’s.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVII' id='CHAPTER_XXVII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> +</div> +<p>The months flew quickly by; the cold winter had slipped +away, and the bright green grass and early violets were +sprinkling the distant hill-slopes. The crimson-breasted +robins were singing in the budding branches of the trees, and +all Nature reminded one the glorious spring had come.</p> +<p>Rex Lyon stood upon the porch of Whitestone Hall gazing +up at the white, fleecy clouds that scudded over the blue sky, +lost in deep thought.</p> +<p>He was the same handsome, debonair Rex, but ah, how +changed! The merry, laughing brown eyes looked silent and +grave enough now, and the lips the drooping brown mustache +covered rarely smiled. Even his voice seemed to have a deeper +tone.</p> +<p>He had done the one thing that morning which his mother +had asked him to do with her dying breath––he had asked +Pluma Hurlhurst to be his wife.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span></div> +<p>The torture of the task seemed to grow upon him as the +weeks rolled by, and in desperation he told himself he must +settle the matter at once, or he would not have the strength to +do it.</p> +<p>He never once thought what he should do with his life after +he married her. He tried to summon up courage to tell her the +story of his marriage, that his hopes, his heart, and his love all +lay in the grave of his young wife. Poor Rex, he could not lay +bare that sweet, sad secret; he could not have borne her questions, +her wonder, her remarks, and have lived; his dead love +was far too sacred for that; he could not take the treasured +love-story from his heart and hold it up to public gaze. It +would have been easier for him to tear the living, beating heart +from his breast than to do this.</p> +<p>He had walked into the parlor that morning, where he knew +he should find Pluma. She was standing before the fire. Although +it was early spring the mornings were chilly, and a +cheerful fire burned in the grate, throwing a bright, glowing +radiance over the room and over the exquisite morning toilet +of white cashmere, with its white lace frills, relieved here and +there with coquettish dashes of scarlet blossoms, which Pluma +wore, setting off her graceful figure to such queenly advantage.</p> +<p>Rex looked at her, at the imperious beauty any man might +have been proud to win, secretly hoping she would refuse him.</p> +<p>“Good-morning, Rex,” she said, holding out her white +hands to him. “I am glad you have come to talk to me. I +was watching you walking up and down under the trees, and +you looked so lonely I half made up my mind to join you.”</p> +<p>A lovely color was deepening in her cheeks, and her eyes +drooped shyly. He broke right into the subject at once while +he had the courage to do it.</p> +<p>“I have something to say to you, Pluma,” he began, leading +her to an adjacent sofa and seating himself beside her. “I +want to ask you if you will be my wife.” He looked perhaps +the more confused of the two. “I will do my best to make +you happy,” he continued. “I can not say that I will make +a model husband, but I will say I will do my best.”</p> +<p>There was a minute’s silence, awkward enough for both.</p> +<p>“You have asked me to be your wife, Rex, but you have +not said one word of loving me.”</p> +<p>The remark was so unexpected Rex seemed for a few moments +to be unable to reply to it. Looking at the eager, expectant +face turned toward him, it appeared ungenerous and +unkind not to give her one affectionate word. Yet he did not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +know how to say it; he had never spoken a loving word to any +one except Daisy, his fair little child-bride.</p> +<p>He tried hard to put the memory of Daisy away from him +as he answered:</p> +<p>“The question is so important that most probably I have +thought more of it than of any words which should go with it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that is it,” returned Pluma, with a wistful little +laugh. “Most men, when they ask women to marry them, +say something of love, do they not?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he replied, absently.</p> +<p>“You have had no experience,” laughed Pluma, archly.</p> +<p>She was sorely disappointed. She had gone over in her own +imagination this very scene a thousand times, of the supreme +moment he would clasp his arms around her, telling her in +glowing, passionate words how dearly he loved her and how +wretched his life would be without her. He did nothing of +the kind.</p> +<p>Rex was thinking he would have given anything to have +been able to make love to her––anything for the power of saying +tender words––she looked so loving.</p> +<p>Her dark, beautiful face was so near him, and her graceful +figure so close, that he could have wound his arm around her, +but he did not. In spite of every resolve, he thought of Daisy +the whole time. How different that other love-making had +been! How his heart throbbed, and every endearing name he +could think of trembled on his lips, as he strained Daisy to his +heart when she had bashfully consented to be his wife!</p> +<p>That love-making was real substance; this one only the +shadow of love.</p> +<p>“You have not answered my question, Pluma. Will you +be my wife?”</p> +<p>Pluma raised her dark, beautiful face, radiant with the +light of love, to his.</p> +<p>“If I consent will you promise to love me better than anything +else or any one in the wide world?”</p> +<p>“I will devote my whole life to you, study your every wish,” +he answered, evasively.</p> +<p>How was she to know he had given all his heart to Daisy?</p> +<p>She held out her hands to him with a charming gesture of +affection. He took them and kissed them; he could do neither +more nor less.</p> +<p>“I will be your wife, Rex,” she said, with a tremulous, +wistful sigh.</p> +<p>“Thank you, Pluma,” he returned, gently, bending down +and kissing the beautiful crimson lips; “you shall never regret +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +it. You are so kind, I am going to impose on your good +nature. You have promised me you will be my wife––when +may I claim you, Pluma?”</p> +<p>“Do you wish it to be soon?” she asked, hesitatingly, wondering +how he would answer her.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, absently; “the sooner it is over the better +I shall be pleased.”</p> +<p>She looked up into his face, at a loss how to interpret the +words.</p> +<p>“You shall set the day, Rex,” she replied.</p> +<p>“I have your father’s consent that it may take place just as +soon as possible, in case you promised to marry me,” he said. +“Suppose it takes place in a fortnight, say––will that be too +soon for you?”</p> +<p>She gave a little scream of surprise. “As soon as that?” +she murmured; but ended by readily consenting.</p> +<p>He thanked her and kissed her once more. After a few +quiet words they parted––she, happy in the glamour of her +love-dream; he, praying to Heaven from the depths of his +miserable heart, to give him strength to carry out the rash +vow which had been wrung from his unwilling lips.</p> +<p>In his heart Rex knew no one but Daisy could ever reign. +Dead, he was devoted to her memory.</p> +<p>His life was narrowing down. He was all kindness, consideration +and devotion; but the one supreme magnet of all––love––was +wanting.</p> +<p>In vain Pluma exerted all her wondrous powers of fascination +to win him more completely. How little he dreamed +of the depths of love which controlled that passionate heart, +every throb of which was for him––that to have won from him +one token of warm affection she would have given all she held +dear in this world.</p> +<p>“How does it happen, Rex,” she asked, one evening, “you +have not asked me to sing to you since you have asked me to +be your wife? Music used to be such a bond of sympathy +between us.”</p> +<p>There was both love and reproach in her voice. He heard +neither. He had simply forgotten it.</p> +<p>“I have been thinking of other things, I presume. Allow +me to make up for it at once, however, by asking you if you +will sing for me now.”</p> +<p>The tears came to her dark, flashing eyes, but she forced +them bravely back. She had hoped he would clasp her in his +arms, whispering some sweet compliment, then say to her +“Darling, won’t you sing to me now?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></div> +<p>She swept toward the piano with the air of a queen.</p> +<p>“I want you to sit where I can see you, Rex,” she demanded, +prettily; “I like to watch your face when I sing you +my favorite songs.”</p> +<p>Rex drew his chair up close to the piano, laying his head +back dreamily against the crimson cushions. He would not +be obliged to talk; for once––just once––he would let his fancies +roam where they would. He had often heard Pluma sing +before, but never in the way she sung to-night. A low, thrilling, +seductive voice full of pleading, passionate tenderness––a +voice that whispered of the sweet irresistible power of love, that +carried away the hearts of her listeners as a strong current +carries a leaflet.</p> +<p>Was it a dream, or was it the night wind breathing the +name of Daisy? The tears rose in his eyes, and he started to +his feet, pale and trembling with agitation. Suddenly the +music ceased.</p> +<p>“I did not think such a simple little melody had power to +move you,” she said.</p> +<p>“Is it a new song?” he asked. “I do not remember having +heard it before. What is the title of it?”</p> +<p>He did not notice her face had grown slightly pale under +the soft, pearly light of the gleaming lamps, as she held the +music out toward him.</p> +<p>“It is a pretty title,” she said, in her low, musical voice, +“‘Daisies Growing o’er my Darling’s Grave.’”</p> +<p>In the terrible look of agony that swept over his handsome +face, Pluma read the secret of his life; the one secret she had +dreaded stood as clearly revealed to her as though it had been +stamped in glowing letters upon his brow. She would have +stood little chance of being Rex’s wife if Daisy Brooks had +lived.</p> +<p>Who would have dreamed the beautiful, proud young heiress +could have cursed the very memory of the young girl whom +she believed to be dead––lying all uncared for in a neglected, +lonely grave?</p> +<p>Rex felt sorely disturbed. He never remembered how the +remainder of the evening passed. Ah, heavens! how his mind +wandered back to that sweet love-dream so cruelly broken. A +mist as of tears spread before his eyes, and shut the whole +world from him as he glanced out of the window and up at +the star-gemmed sky––that was his Daisy’s home.</p> +<p>“I hope my little song has not cast a gloom over you, Rex?” +she said, holding out her hands to him as she arose to bid him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +good-night––those small white hands upon one of which his +engagement-ring glowed with a thousand prismatic hues.</p> +<p>“Why should it?” he asked, attempting to laugh lightly. +“I admired it perhaps more than any other I have ever heard +you sing.”</p> +<p>Pluma well knew why.</p> +<p>“It was suggested to me by a strange occurrence. Shall I +relate it to you, Rex?”</p> +<p>He made some indistinct answer, little dreaming of how +wofully the little anecdote would affect him.</p> +<p>“I do not like to bring up old, unpleasant subjects, Rex. +But do you remember what the only quarrel we ever had was +about, or rather <i>who</i> it was about?”</p> +<p>He looked at her in surprise; he had not the least idea of +what she alluded to.</p> +<p>“Do you remember what a romantic interest you once took +in our overseer’s niece––the one who eloped with Lester Stanwick +from boarding-school––the one whose death we afterward +read of? Her name was Daisy––Daisy Brooks.”</p> +<p>If she had suddenly plunged a dagger into his heart with +her white jeweled hands he could not have been more cruelly +startled. He could have cried aloud with the sharp pain of +unutterable anguish that memory brought him. His answer +was a bow; he dared not look up lest the haggard pain of his +face should betray him.</p> +<p>“Her uncle (he was no relation, I believe, but she called +him that) was more fond of her than words can express. I +was driving along by an unfrequented road to-day when I +came across a strange, pathetic sight. The poor old man was +putting the last touches to a plain wooden cross he had just +erected under a magnolia-tree, which bore the simple words: +‘To the memory of Daisy Brooks, aged sixteen years.’ +Around the cross the grass was thickly sown with daisies.</p> +<p>“‘She does not rest here,’ the old man said, drawing his +rough sleeve across his tear-dimmed eyes; ‘but the poor little +girl loved this spot best of any.’”</p> +<p>Pluma wondered why Rex took her just then in his arms for +the first time and kissed her. He was thanking her in his +heart; he could have knelt to her for the kind way she had +spoken of Daisy.</p> +<p>A little later he was standing by the open window of his own +room in the moonlight.</p> +<p>“My God!” he cried, burying his face in his hands, “this +poor John Brooks did what I, her husband, should have done; +but it is not too late now. I shall honor your memory, my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +darling; I shall have a costly marble monument erected to +your memory, bearing the inscription: ‘Sacred to the memory +of Daisy, beloved wife of Rex Lyon, aged sixteen years.’ Not +Daisy Brooks, but Daisy Lyon. Mother is dead, what can +secrecy avail now?”</p> +<p>He would not tell Pluma until the last moment. Straightway +he ordered a magnificent monument from Baltimore––one +of pure unblemished white, with an angel with drooping wings +overlooking the tall white pillar.</p> +<p>When it arrived he meant to take Pluma there, and, reverently +kneeling down before her, tell her all the story of his +sweet, sad love-dream with his face pressed close against the +cold, pulseless marble––tell her of the love-dream which had +left him but the ashes of dead hope. He sealed the letter and +placed it with the out-going morning mail.</p> +<p>“Darling, how I wish I had not parted from you that +night!” he sighed.</p> +<p>How bitterly he regretted he could not live that one brief +hour of his past life over again––how differently he would act!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVIII' id='CHAPTER_XXVIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>While Rex was penning his all-important letter in his +room, Pluma was walking restlessly to and fro in her boudoir, +conning over in her mind the events of the evening.</p> +<p>Rex had asked her to be his wife, but she stood face to face +with the truth at last––he did not love her. It was not only +a blow of the keenest and cruelest kind to her affection, but it +was the cruelest blow her vanity could possibly have received.</p> +<p>To think that she, the wealthy, petted heiress, who counted +her admirers by the score, should have tried so hard to win the +love of this one man and have failed; that her beauty, her grace, +her wit, and her talent had been lavished upon him, and +lavished in vain. “Was that simple girl, with her shy, timid, +shrinking manner, more lovable than I?” she asked herself, +incredulously.</p> +<p>She could not realize it––she, whose name was on the lips of +men, who praised her as the queen of beauty, and whom fair +women envied as one who had but to will to win.</p> +<p>It seemed to her a cruel mockery of fate that she, who had +everything the world could give––beauty and fortune––should +ask but this one gift, and that it should be refused her––the +love of the man who had asked her to be his wife.</p> +<p>Was it impossible that he should learn to love her?</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></div> +<p>She told herself that she should take courage, that she would +persevere, that her great love must in time prevail.</p> +<p>“I must never let him find me dull or unhappy,” she +thought. “I must carefully hide all traces of pique or annoyance.”</p> +<p>She would do her best to entertain him, and make it the +study of her life to win his love.</p> +<p>She watched the stars until they faded from the skies, then +buried her face in her pillow, falling into an uneasy slumber, +through which a beautiful, flower-like, girlish face floated, and +a slight, delicate form knelt at her feet holding her arms out +imploringly, sobbing out:</p> +<p>“Do not take him from me––he is my world––I love him!”</p> +<p>And with a heart racked by terrible jealousy, Pluma turned +uneasily on her pillow and opened her eyes. The stars were +still glimmering in the moonlighted sky.</p> +<p>“Is the face of Daisy Brooks ever to haunt me thus?” she +cried out, impatiently. “How was I to know she was to die?” +she muttered, excitedly. “I simply meant to have Stanwick +abduct her from the seminary that Rex might believe him her +lover and turn to me for sympathy. I will not think of it,” +she cried; “I am not one to flinch from a course of action I +have marked out for myself, no matter what the consequences +may be, if I only gain Rex’s love.”</p> +<p>And Pluma, the bride soon to be, turned her flushed face +again to the wall to dream again of Daisy Brooks.</p> +<p>She little dreamed Rex, too, was watching the stars, as +wakeful as she, thinking of the past.</p> +<p>Then he prayed Heaven to help him, so that no unworthy +thought should enter his mind. After that he slept, and one +of the most painful days of his life was ended.</p> +<p>The days at Whitestone Hall flew by on rapid wings in a +round of gayety. The Hall was crowded with young folks, +who were to remain until after the marriage. Dinner parties +were followed by May-pole dances out on the green lawns, and +by charades and balls in the evening. The old Hall had never +echoed with such frolicsome mirth before. Rex plunged into +the excitement with strange zest. No one guessed that beneath +his winning, careless smile his heart was almost breaking.</p> +<p>One morning Pluma was standing alone on the vine-covered +terrace, waiting for Rex, who had gone out to try a beautiful +spirited horse that had just been added to the stables of Whitestone +Hall. She noticed he had taken the unfrequented road +the magnolia-trees shaded. That fact bore no significance, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +certainly; still there was a strong feeling of jealousy in her +heart as she remembered that little wooden cross he would be +obliged to pass. Would he stop there? She could not tell.</p> +<p>“How I love him––and how foolish I am!” she laughed, +nervously. “I have no rival, yet I am jealous of his very +thoughts, lest they dwell on any one else but myself. I do not +see how it is,” she said, thoughtfully, to herself, “why people +laugh at love, and think it weakness or a girl’s sentimental +folly. Why, it is the strongest of human passions!”</p> +<p>She heard people speak of her approaching marriage as “a +grand match”––she heard him spoken of as a wealthy Southerner, +and she laughed a proud, happy, rippling laugh. She +was marrying Rex for love; she had given him the deepest, +truest love of her heart.</p> +<p>Around a bend in the terrace she heard approaching footsteps +and the rippling of girlish laughter.</p> +<p>“I can not have five minutes to myself to think,” she said +to herself, drawing hastily back behind the thick screen of +leaves until they should pass. She did not feel in the humor +just then to listen to Miss Raynor’s chatter or pretty Grace +Alden’s gossip.</p> +<p>“Of course every one has a right to their own opinion,” +Grace was saying, with a toss of her pretty nut-brown curls, +“and I, for one, do not believe he cares for her one whit.”</p> +<p>“It is certainly very strange,” responded Miss Raynor, +thoughtfully. “Every one can see she is certainly in love +with Rex; but I am afraid it is quite a one-sided affair.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Grace, laughing shyly, “a <i>very</i> one-sided +affair. Why, have you ever noticed them together––how +Pluma watches his face and seems to live on his smiles? +And as for Rex, he always seems to be looking over her head +into the distance, as though he saw something there far more +interesting than the face of his bride-to-be. That doesn’t look +much like love or a contented lover.”</p> +<p>“If you had seen him this morning you might well say he +did not look contented,” replied Miss Raynor, mysteriously. +“I was out for a morning ramble, and, feeling a little tired, +I sat down on a moss-covered stone to rest. Hearing the approaching +clatter of a horse’s hoofs, I looked up and saw Rex +Lyon coming leisurely down the road. I could not tell you +what prompted me to do it, but I drew quietly back behind +the overhanging alder branches that skirted the brook, admiring +him all unseen.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear!” cried Grace, merrily, “this is almost too good +to keep. Who would imagine dignified Miss Raynor peeping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +admiringly at handsome Rex, screened by the shadows of the +alders!”</p> +<p>“Now don’t be ridiculous, Grace, or I shall be tempted not +to tell you the most interesting part,” returned Miss Raynor, +flushing hotly.</p> +<p>“Oh, that would be too cruel,” cried Grace, who delighted +on anything bordering on mystery. “Do tell it.”</p> +<p>“Well,” continued Miss Raynor, dropping her voice to a +lower key, “when he was quite opposite me, he suddenly +stopped short and quickly dismounted from his horse, and +picked up from the roadside a handful of wild flowers.”</p> +<p>“What in the world could he want with them?” cried +Grace, incredulously.</p> +<p>“Want with them!” echoed Miss Raynor. “Why, he +pressed them to his lips, murmuring passionate, loving words +over them. For one brief instant his face was turned toward +me, and I saw there were tears standing in his eyes, and there +was a look on his face I shall never forget to my dying day. +There was such hopeless woe upon it––indeed one might have +almost supposed, by the expression of his face, he was waiting +for his death-sentence to be pronounced instead of a marriage +ceremony, which was to give him the queenly heiress of Whitestone +Hall for a bride.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps there is some hidden romance in the life of handsome +Rex the world does not know of,” suggested Grace, +sagely.</p> +<p>“I hope not,” replied Miss Raynor. “I would hate to be +a rival of Pluma Hurlhurst’s. I have often thought, as I +watched her with Rex, it must be terrible to worship one person +so madly. I have often thought Pluma’s a perilous love.”</p> +<p>“Do not speak so,” cried Grace. “You horrify me. +Whenever I see her face I am afraid those words will be ringing +in my ears––a perilous love.”</p> +<p>Miss Raynor made some laughing rejoinder which Pluma, +white and trembling behind the ivy vines, did not catch, and +still discussing the affair, they moved on, leaving Pluma Hurlhurst +standing alone, face to face with the truth, which she +had hoped against hope was false. Rex, who was so soon to +be her husband, was certainly not her lover.</p> +<p>Her keen judgment had told her long ago all this had come +about through his mother’s influence.</p> +<p>Every word those careless lips had uttered came back to her +heart with a cruel stab.</p> +<p>“Even my guests are noticing his coldness,” she cried, with +a hysterical little sob. “They are saying to each other, ‘He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +does not love me’––I, who have counted my triumphs by the +scores. I have revealed my love in every word, tone and +glance, but I can not awaken one sentiment in his proud, cold +heart.”</p> +<p>When she remembered the words, “He pressed them to his +lips, murmuring passionate, loving words over them,” she +almost cried aloud in her fierce, angry passion. She knew, +just as well as though she had witnessed him herself, that +those wild flowers were daisies, and she knew, too, why he had +kissed them so passionately. She saw the sun shining on the +trees, the flower-beds were great squares and circles of color, +the fountains sparkled in the sunlight, and restless butterflies +flitted hither and thither.</p> +<p>For Pluma Hurlhurst, after that hour, the sunshine never +had the same light, the flowers the same color, her face the +same smile, or her heart the same joyousness.</p> +<p>Never did “good and evil” fight for a human heart as they +struggled in that hour in the heart of the beautiful, willful +heiress. All the fire, the passion, and recklessness of her +nature were aroused.</p> +<p>“I will make him love me or I will die!” she cried, +vehemently. “The love I long for shall be mine. I swear +it, cost what it may!”</p> +<p>She was almost terribly beautiful to behold, as that war of +passion raged within her.</p> +<p>She saw a cloud of dust arising in the distance. She knew +it was Rex returning, but no bright flush rose to her cheek as +she remembered what Miss Raynor had said of the wild flowers +he had so rapturously caressed––he had given a few rank wild +flowers the depths of a passionate love which he had never +shown to her, whom he had asked to be his wife.</p> +<p>She watched him as he approached nearer and nearer, so +handsome, so graceful, so winning, one of his white hands +carelessly resting on the spirited animal’s proudly arched, +glossy neck, and with the other raising his hat from his brown +curls in true courtly cavalier fashion to her, as he saw her +standing there, apparently awaiting him on the rose-covered +terrace.</p> +<p>He looked so handsome and lovable Pluma might have forgotten +her grievance had she not at that moment espied, +fastened to the lapel of his coat, a cluster of golden-hearted +daisies.</p> +<p>That sight froze the light in her dark, passionate eyes and +the welcome that trembled on her scarlet lips.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></div> +<p>He leaped lightly from the saddle, and came quickly forward +to meet her, and then drew back with a start.</p> +<p>“What is the matter, Pluma?” he asked, in wonder.</p> +<p>“Nothing,” she replied, keeping her eyes fastened as if +fascinated on the offending daisies he wore on his breast.</p> +<p>“I left you an hour ago smiling and happy. I find you +white and worn. There are strange lights in your eyes like +the slumbrous fire of a volcano; even your voice seems to have +lost its tenderness. What is it, Pluma?”</p> +<p>She raised her dark, proud face to his. There was a strange +story written on it, but he could not tell what it was.</p> +<p>“It––it is nothing. The day is warm, and I am tired, that +is all.”</p> +<p>“You are not like the same Pluma who kissed me when I +was going away,” he persisted. “Since I left this house something +has come between you and me. What is it, Pluma?”</p> +<p>She looked up to him with a proud gesture that was infinitely +charming.</p> +<p>“Is anything likely to come between us?” she asked.</p> +<p>“No; not that I know of,” he answered, growing more and +more puzzled.</p> +<p>“Then why imagine it?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Because you are so changed, Pluma,” he said. “I shall +never perhaps know the cause of your strange manner toward +me, but I shall always feel sure it is something which concerns +myself. You look at me as though you were questioning me,” +he said. “I wish you would tell me what is on your mind?”</p> +<p>“I do not suppose it could make the least difference,” she +answered, passionately. “Yes, I will tell you, what you must +have been blind not to notice long ago. Have you not noticed +how every one watches us with a peculiar smile on their lips as +we come among them; and how their voices sink to a whisper +lest we should overhear what they say? What is commented +upon by my very guests, and the people all about us? Listen, +then, it is this: Rex Lyon does not love the woman he has +asked to be his wife. The frosts of Iceland could not be +colder than his manner toward her. They say, too, that I +have given you the truest and deepest love of my heart, and +have received nothing in return. Tell me that it is all false, +my darling. You do care for me, do you not, Rex? Tell +me,” she implored.</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” cried Rex, almost speechless in consternation; +“do they dare say such things? I never thought my +conduct could give rise to one reproach, one unkind thought.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></div> +<p>“Tell me you do care for me, Rex,” she cried. “I have +been almost mad with doubt.”</p> +<p>There was something in the lovely face, in the tender, +pleading eyes, and quivering, scarlet mouth, that looked as if +it were made for kisses––that Rex would have had to have +been something more than mortal man to have resisted her +pleading with sighs and tears for his love, and refuse it, +especially as she had every reason to expect it, as he had asked +her to be his wife. There was such a look of unutterable love +on her face it fairly bewildered him. The passion in her voice +startled him. What was he to do with this impetuous girl? +Rex looked as if he felt exceedingly uncomfortable.</p> +<p>He took her in his arms and kissed her mechanically; he +knew that was what she wanted and what she expected him +to do.</p> +<p>“This must be my answer, dear,” he said, holding her in +a close embrace.</p> +<p>In that brief instant she had torn the daisies from the lapel +of his coat with her white, jeweled fingers, tossed them to the +earth, and stamped her dainty feet upon them, wishing in the +depths of her soul she could crush out all remembrance from +his heart of the young girl for whose memory this handsome +lover of hers wore these wild blossoms on his breast.</p> +<p>As Rex looked down into her face he missed them, and +quickly unclasped his arms from around her with a little cry.</p> +<p>Stooping down he instantly recovered his crushed treasures +and lifted them reverently in his hand with a sigh.</p> +<p>“I can not say that I admire your taste, Rex,” she said, +with a short, hard laugh, that somehow grated harshly on her +lover’s ears. “The conservatories are blooming with rare and +odorous flowers, yet you choose these obnoxious plants; they +are no more or less than a species of weeds. Never wear them +again, Rex––I despise them––throw them away, and I will +gather you a rare bouquet of white hyacinths and starry +jasmine and golden-rod bells.”</p> +<p>The intense quiver in her voice pained him, and he saw her +face wore the pallor of death, and her eyes were gleaming like +restless fire.</p> +<p>“I will not wear them certainly if you dislike them, Pluma,” +he said, gravely, “but I do not care to replace them by any +other; daisies are the sweetest flowers on earth for me.”</p> +<p>He did not fasten them on his coat again, but transferred +them to his breast-pocket. She bit her scarlet lips in impotent +rage.</p> +<p>In the very moment of her supreme triumph and happiness +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +he had unclasped his arms from about her to pick up the +daisies she had crushed with her tiny heel––those daisies which +reminded him of that other love that still reigned in his heart +a barrier between them.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIX' id='CHAPTER_XXIX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> +</div> +<p>“I do think it is a perfect shame those horrid Glenn girls are +to be invited up here to Rex’s wedding,” cried little Birdie +Lyon, hobbling into the room where Mrs. Corliss sat, busily +engaged in hemming some new table-linen, and throwing herself +down on a low hassock at her feet, and laying down her +crutch beside her––“it is perfectly awful.”</p> +<p>“Why,” said Mrs. Corliss, smoothing the nut-brown curls +back from the child’s flushed face, “I should think you would +be very pleased. They were your neighbors when you were +down in Florida, were they not?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied the little girl, frowning, “but I don’t like +them one bit. Bess and Gertie––that’s the two eldest ones, +make me think of those stiff pictures in the gay trailing +dresses in the magazines. Eve is nice, but she’s a Tom-boy.”</p> +<p>“A wh––at!” cried Mrs. Corliss.</p> +<p>“She’s a Tom-boy, mamma always said; she romps, and +has no manners.”</p> +<p>“They will be your neighbors when you go South again––so +I suppose your brother thought of that when he invited them.”</p> +<p>“He never dreamed of it,” cried Birdie; “it was Miss +Pluma’s doings.”</p> +<p>“Hush, child, don’t talk so loud,” entreated the old housekeeper; +“she might hear you.”</p> +<p>“I don’t care,” cried Birdie. “I don’t like her anyhow, and +she knows it. When Rex is around she is as sweet as honey +to me, and calls me ‘pretty little dear,’ but when Rex isn’t +around she scarcely notices me, and I <i>hate</i> her––yes, I do.”</p> +<p>Birdie clinched her little hands together venomously, crying +out the words in a shrill scream.</p> +<p>“Birdie,” cried Mrs. Corliss, “you <i>must not</i> say such hard, +cruel things. I have heard you say, over and over again, you +liked Mr. Hurlhurst, and you must remember Pluma is his +daughter, and she is to be your brother’s wife. You must +learn to speak and think kindly of her.”</p> +<p>“I never shall like her,” cried Birdie, defiantly, “and I +am sure Mr. Hurlhurst don’t.”</p> +<p>“Birdie!” ejaculated the good lady in a fright, dropping +her scissors and spools in consternation; “let me warn you not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +to talk so again; if Miss Pluma was to once hear you, you +would have a sorry enough time of it all your after life. What +put it into your head Mr. Hurlhurst did not like his own +daughter?”</p> +<p>“Oh, lots of things,” answered Birdie. “When I tell him +how pretty every one says she is, he groans, and says strange +things about fatal beauty, which marred all his young life, and +ever so many things I can’t understand, and his face grows so +hard and so stern I am almost afraid of him.”</p> +<p>“He is thinking of Pluma’s mother,” thought Mrs. Corliss––but +she made no answer.</p> +<p>“He likes to talk to me,” pursued the child, rolling the +empty spools to and fro with her crutch, “for he pities me because +I am lame.”</p> +<p>“Bless your dear little heart,” said Mrs. Corliss, softly +stroking the little girl’s curls; “it is seldom poor old master +takes to any one as he has to you.”</p> +<p>“Do I look anything like the little child that died?” questioned +Birdie.</p> +<p>A low, gasping cry broke from Mrs. Corliss’s lips, and her +face grew ashen white. She tried to speak, but the words died +away in her throat.</p> +<p>“He talks to me a great deal about her,” continued Birdie, +“and he weeps such bitter tears, and has such strange dreams +about her. Why, only last night he dreamed a beautiful, +golden-haired young girl came to him, holding out her arms, +and crying softly: ‘Look at me, father; I am your child. I +was never laid to rest beneath the violets, in my young mother’s +tomb. Father, I am in sore distress––come to me, father, +or I shall die!’ Of course it was only a dream, but it makes +poor Mr. Hurlhurst cry so; and what do you think he said?”</p> +<p>The child did not notice the terrible agony on the old housekeeper’s +face, or that no answer was vouchsafed her.</p> +<p>“‘My dreams haunt me night and day,’ he cried. ‘To still +this wild, fierce throbbing of my heart I must have that grave +opened, and gaze once more upon all that remains of my loved +and long-lost bride, sweet Evalia and her little child.’ He +was––”</p> +<p>Birdie never finished her sentence.</p> +<p>A terrible cry broke from the housekeeper’s livid lips.</p> +<p>“My God!” she cried, hoarsely, “after nearly seventeen +years the sin of my silence is about to find me out at last.”</p> +<p>“What is the matter, Mrs. Corliss? Are you ill?” cried +the startled child.</p> +<p>A low, despairing sob answered her, as Mrs. Corliss arose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +from her seat, took a step or two forward, then fell headlong +to the floor in a deep and death-like swoon.</p> +<p>Almost any other child would have been terrified, and +alarmed the household.</p> +<p>Birdie was not like other children. She saw a pitcher of ice-water +on an adjacent table, which she immediately proceeded +to sprinkle on the still, white, wrinkled face; but all her efforts +failed to bring the fleeting breath back to the cold, pallid lips.</p> +<p>At last the child became fairly frightened.</p> +<p>“I must go and find Rex or Mr. Hurlhurst,” she cried, +grasping her crutch, and limping hurriedly out of the room.</p> +<p>The door leading to Basil Hurlhurst’s apartments stood +open––the master of Whitestone Hall sat in his easy-chair, in +morning-gown and slippers, deeply immersed in the columns +of his account-books.</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr. Hurlhurst,” cried Birdie, her little, white, +scared face peering in at the door, “won’t you please come +quick? Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, has fainted ever so long +ago, and I can’t bring her to!”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst hurriedly arose and followed the now thoroughly +frightened child quickly to the room where the old +housekeeper lay, her hands pressed close to her heart, the look +of frozen horror deepening on her face.</p> +<p>Quickly summoning the servants, they raised her from the +floor. It was something more than a mere fainting fit. The +poor old lady had fallen face downward on the floor, and upon +the sharp point of the scissors she had been using, which had +entered her body in close proximity to her heart. The wound +was certainly a dangerous one. The surgeon, who was quickly +summoned, shook his head dubiously.</p> +<p>“The wound is of the most serious nature,” he said. “She +can not possibly recover.”</p> +<p>“I regret this sad affair more than I can find words to express,” +said Basil Hurlhurst, gravely. “Mrs. Corliss’s whole +life almost has been spent at Whitestone Hall. You tell me, +doctor, there is no hope. I can scarcely realize it.”</p> +<p>Every care and attention was shown her; but it was long +hours before Mrs. Corliss showed signs of returning consciousness, +and with her first breath she begged that Basil Hurlhurst +might be sent for at once.</p> +<p>He could not understand why she shrunk from him, refusing +his proffered hand.</p> +<p>“Tell them all to leave the room,” she whispered. “No +one must know what I have to say to you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></div> +<p>Wondering a little what she had to say to him, he humored +her wishes, sending them all from the room.</p> +<p>“Now, Mrs. Corliss,” he said, kindly drawing his chair up +close by the bedside, “what is it? You can speak out without +reserve; we are all alone.”</p> +<p>“Is it true that I can not live?” she asked, eagerly scanning +his face. “Tell me truthfully, master, is the wound a +fatal one?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, sympathetically, “I––I––am afraid it is.”</p> +<p>He saw she was making a violent effort to control her emotions. +“Do not speak,” he said, gently; “it distresses you. +You need perfect rest and quiet.”</p> +<p>“I shall never rest again until I make atonement for my +sin,” she cried, feebly. “Oh, master, you have ever been +good and kind to me, but I have sinned against you beyond all +hope of pardon. When you hear what I have to say you will +curse me. Oh, how can I tell it! Yet I can not sleep in my +grave with this burden on my soul.”</p> +<p>He certainly thought she was delirious, this poor, patient, +toil-worn soul, speaking so incoherently of sin; she, so tender-hearted––she +could not even have hurt a sparrow.</p> +<p>“I can promise you my full pardon, Mrs. Corliss,” he said, +soothingly; “no matter on what grounds the grievance may +be.”</p> +<p>For a moment she looked at him incredulously.</p> +<p>“You do not know what you say. You do not understand,” +she muttered, fixing her fast-dimming eyes strangely upon him.</p> +<p>“Do not give yourself any uneasiness upon that score, Mrs. +Corliss,” he said, gently; “try to think of something else. Is +there anything you would like to have done for you?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, in a voice so hoarse and changed he +could scarcely recognize it was her who had spoken; “when I +tell you all, promise me you will not curse me; for I have +sinned against you so bitterly that you will cry out to Heaven +asking why I did not die long years ago, that the terrible secret +I have kept so long might have been wrung from my lips.”</p> +<p>“Surely her ravings were taking a strange freak,” he +thought to himself; “yet he would be patient with her and +humor her strange fancy.”</p> +<p>The quiet, gentle expression did not leave his face, and she +took courage.</p> +<p>“Master,” she said, clasping her hands nervously together, +“would it pain you to speak of the sweet, golden-haired young +girl-bride who died on that terrible stormy night nearly seventeen +years ago?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></div> +<p>She saw his care-worn face grow white, and the lines of pain +deepen around his mouth.</p> +<p>“That is the most painful of all subjects to me,” he said, +slowly. “You know how I have suffered since that terrible +night,” he said shudderingly. “The double loss of my sweet +young wife and her little babe has nearly driven me mad. I +am a changed man, the weight of the cross I have had to bear +has crushed me. I live on, but my heart is buried in the +grave of my sweet, golden-haired Evalia and her little child. +I repeat, it is a painful subject, still I will listen to what you +have to say. I believe I owe my life to your careful nursing, +when I was stricken with the brain fever that awful time.”</p> +<p>“It would have been better if I had let you die then, rather +than live to inflict the blow which my words will give you. +Oh, master!” she implored, “I did not know then what I did +was a sin. I feared to tell you lest the shock might cost you +your life. As time wore on, I grew so deadly frightened I +dared not undo the mischief my silence had wrought. Remember, +master, when you looked upon me in your bitterest, +fiercest moments of agony, what I did was for <i>your</i> sake; to +save your bleeding heart one more pang. I have been a good +and faithful woman all my life, faithful to your interests.”</p> +<p>“You have indeed,” he responded, greatly puzzled as to +what she could possibly mean.</p> +<p>She tried to raise herself on her elbows, but her strength +failed her, and she sunk back exhausted on the pillow.</p> +<p>“Listen, Basil Hurlhurst,” she said, fixing her strangely +bright eyes upon his noble, care-worn face; “this is the secret +I have carried in this bosom for nearly seventeen years: ‘Your +golden-haired young wife died on that terrible stormy night +you brought her to Whitestone Hall;’ but listen, Basil, ‘<i>the +child did not!</i>’ It was stolen from our midst on the night the +fair young mother died.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXX' id='CHAPTER_XXX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> +</div> +<p>“My God!” cried Basil Hurlhurst, starting to his feet, pale +as death, his eyes fairly burning, and the veins standing out on +his forehead like cords, “you do not know what you say, +woman! My little child––Evalia’s child and mine––not dead, +but stolen on the night its mother died! My God! it can not +be; surely you are mad!” he shrieked.</p> +<p>“It is true, master,” she moaned, “true as Heaven.”</p> +<p>“You knew my child, for whom I grieved for seventeen +long years, was stolen––not dead––and dared to keep the knowledge +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +from me?” he cried, passionately, beside himself with +rage, agony and fear. “Tell me quickly, then, where I shall +find my child!” he cried, breathlessly.</p> +<p>“I do not know, master,” she moaned.</p> +<p>For a few moments Basil Hurlhurst strode up and down the +room like a man bereft of reason.</p> +<p>“You will not curse me,” wailed the tremulous voice from +the bed; “I have your promise.”</p> +<p>“I can not understand how Heaven could let your lips remain +silenced all these long, agonizing years, if your story be +true. Why, yourself told me my wife and child had both died +on that never-to-be-forgotten night, and were buried in one +grave. How could you dare steep your lips with a lie so foul +and black? Heaven could have struck you dead while the +false words were yet warm on your lips!”</p> +<p>“I dared not tell you, master,” moaned the feeble voice, +“lest the shock would kill you; then, after you recovered, I +grew afraid of the secret I had dared to keep, and dared not +tell you.”</p> +<p>“And yet you knew that somewhere in this cruel world my +little child was living––my tender, little fair-haired child––while +I, her father, was wearing my life out with the grief of +that terrible double loss. Oh, woman, woman, may God forgive +you, for I never can, if your words be true.”</p> +<p>“I feared such anger as this; that is why I dared not tell +you,” she whispered, faintly. “I appeal to your respect for +me in the past to hear me, to your promise of forgiveness to +shield me, to your love for the little child to listen calmly while +I have strength to speak.”</p> +<p>He saw she was right. His head seemed on fire, and his +heart seemed bursting with the acute intensity of his great excitement.</p> +<p>He must listen while she had strength to tell him of his +child.</p> +<p>“Go on––go on!” he cried, hoarsely, burying his face in the +bed-clothes; “tell me of my child!”</p> +<p>“You remember the terrible storm, master, how the tree +moaned, and without against the western wing––where your +beautiful young wife lay dead, with the pretty, smiling, blue-eyed +babe upon her breast?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes––go on––you are driving me mad!” he groaned.</p> +<p>“You remember how you fell down senseless by her bedside +when we told you the terrible news––the young child-bride was +dead?”</p> +<p>She knew, by the quivering of his form, he heard her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></div> +<p>“As they carried you from the room, master, I thought I +saw a woman’s form gliding stealthily on before, through the +dark corridors. A blaze of lightning illumined the hall for +one brief instant, and I can swear I saw a woman’s face––a +white, mocking, gloriously beautiful face––strangely like the +face of your first wife, master, Pluma’s mother. I knew it +could not be her, for she was lying beneath the sea-waves. It +was not a good omen, and I felt sorely afraid and greatly +troubled. When I returned to the room from which they had +carried you––there lay your fair young wife with a smile on +her lips––but the tiny babe that had slumbered on her breast +was gone.”</p> +<p>“Oh, God! if you had only told me this years ago,” cried +the unhappy father. “Have you any idea who could have +taken the child? It could not have been for gain, or I should +have heard of it long ago. I did not know I had an enemy in +the wide world. You say you saw a woman’s face?” he asked, +thoughtfully.</p> +<p>“It was the ghost of your first wife,” asserted the old housekeeper, +astutely. “I never saw her face but once; but there +was something about it one could not easily forget.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst was not a superstitious man, yet he felt a +strange, unaccountable dread stealing over him at the bare +mention of such a thing. It was more than he could endure +to hear the name of the wife he had loved, and the wife who +slept beneath the wild sea-waves, coupled in one breath––the +fair young wife he had idolized, and the dark, sparkling face +of the wife who had brought upon him such wretched folly in +his youth!</p> +<p>“Have you not some clew to give me?” he cried out in +agony––“some way by which I can trace her and learn her +fate?”</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>“This is unbearable!” he cried, pacing up and down the +room like one who had received an unexpected death-blow. +“I am bewildered! Merciful Heaven! which way shall I +turn? This accounts for my restlessness all these years, when +I thought of my child––my restless longing and fanciful +dreams! I thought her quietly sleeping on Evalia’s breast. +God only knows what my tender little darling has suffered, or +in what part of the world she lives, or if she lives at all!”</p> +<p>It had been just one hour since Basil Hurlhurst had entered +that room, a placid-faced, gray-haired man. When he left it +his hair was white as snow from the terrible ordeal through +which he had just passed.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></div> +<p>He scarcely dared hope that he should yet find her––where +or how he should find her, if ever.</p> +<p>In the corridor he passed groups of maidens, but he neither +saw nor heard them. He was thinking of the child that had +been stolen from him in her infancy––the sweet little babe +with the large blue eyes and shining rings of golden hair.</p> +<p>He saw Pluma and Rex greeting some new arrivals out on +the flower-bordered terrace, but he did not stop until he had +reached his own apartments.</p> +<p>He did not send for Pluma, to divulge the wonderful discovery +he had made. There was little sympathy or confidence +between the father and daughter.</p> +<p>“I can never sleep again until I have some clew to my +child!” he cried, frantically wringing his hands.</p> +<p>Hastily he touched the bell-rope.</p> +<p>“Mason,” he said to the servant who answered the summons, +“pack my valise at once. I am going to take the first +train to Baltimore. You have no time to lose.”</p> +<p>He did not hear the man’s ejaculation of surprise as his eyes +fell on the face of the master who stood before him with hair +white as snow––so utterly changed in one short hour.</p> +<p>“You couldn’t possibly make the next train, sir; it leaves +in a few moments.”</p> +<p>“I tell you you <i>must</i> make it!” cried Basil Hurlhurst. +“Go and do as I bid you at once! Don’t stand there staring +at me; you are losing golden moments. Fly at once, I tell +you!”</p> +<p>Poor old Mason was literally astounded. What had come +over his kind, courteous master?</p> +<p>“I have nothing that could aid them in the search,” he said +to himself, pacing restlessly up and down the room. “Ah! +stay!––there is Evalia’s portrait! The little one must look like +her mother if she is living yet!”</p> +<p>He went to his writing-desk and drew from a private drawer +a little package tied with a faded ribbon, which he carefully +untied with trembling fingers.</p> +<p>It was a portrait on ivory of a beautiful, girlish, dimpled +face, with shy, upraised blue eyes, a smiling rosebud mouth, +soft pink cheeks, and a wealth of rippling, sunny-golden hair.</p> +<p>“She must look like this,” he whispered. “God grant that +I may find her!”</p> +<p>“Mr. Rex Lyon says, please may he see you a few moments, +sir,” said Mason, popping his black head in at the door.</p> +<p>“No; I do not wish to see any one, and I will not see any +one. Have you that satchel packed, I say?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></div> +<p>“Yes, sir; it will be ready directly, sir,” said the man, +obediently.</p> +<p>“Don’t come to me with any more messages––lock everybody +out. Do you hear me, Mason? I <i>will</i> be obeyed!”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, I hear. No one shall disturb you.”</p> +<p>Again Basil Hurlhurst turned to the portrait, paying little +attention to what was transpiring around him. “I shall put +it at once in the hands of the cleverest detectives,” he mused; +“surely they will be able to find some trace of my lost darling.”</p> +<p>Seventeen years! Ah, what might have happened her in +that time? The master of Whitestone Hall always kept a file +of the Baltimore papers; he rapidly ran his eye down the different +columns.</p> +<p>“Ah, here is what I want,” he exclaimed, stopping short. +“Messrs. Tudor, Peck & Co., Experienced Detectives, ––– Street, +Baltimore. They are noted for their skill. I will give +the case into their hands. If they restore my darling child +alive and well into my hands I will make them wealthy men––if +she is dead, the blow will surely kill me.”</p> +<p>He heard voices debating in the corridor without.</p> +<p>“Did you tell him I wished particularly to see him?” asked +Rex, rather discomfited at the refusal.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Mason, dubiously.</p> +<p>“Miss Pluma, his daughter, wishes me to speak with him +on a very important matter. I am surprised that he so persistently +refuses to see me,” said Rex, proudly, wondering if +Pluma’s father had heard that gossip––among the guests––that +he did not love his daughter. “I do not know that I +have offended the old gentleman in any way,” he told himself. +“If it comes to that,” he thought, “I can do no more than +confess the truth to him––the whole truth about poor little +Daisy––no matter what the consequences may be.”</p> +<p>Fate was playing at cross-purposes with handsome Rex, but +no subtle warning came to him.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXI' id='CHAPTER_XXXI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> +</div> +<p>The preparations for the wedding went steadily on. It was +to be a magnificent affair. Inside and outside of Whitestone +Hall fairly glowed with brilliancy and bloom.</p> +<p>Rex’s deportment toward his promised bride was exemplary; +he did his best to show her every possible attention and kindness +in lieu of the love which should have been hers.</p> +<p>There seemed to be no cloud in Pluma Hurlhurst’s heaven.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></div> +<p>She had no warning of the relentless storm-cloud that was +gathering above her head and was so soon to burst upon her +in all its fury.</p> +<p>She walked among her guests with a joyous, happy smile +and the air of a queen. Why should she not? On the morrow +she would gain the prize she coveted most on earth––she +would be Rex’s wife.</p> +<p>Her father had gone unexpectedly to Baltimore, and the +good old housekeeper had been laid to rest, but in the excitement +and bustle attending the great coming event these two +incidents created little comment.</p> +<p>Mirth and gayety reigned supreme, and the grim old halls +resounded with laughter and song and gay young voices from +morning until night.</p> +<p>Pluma, the spoiled, petted, willful heiress, was fond of excitement +and gay throngs.</p> +<p>“Our marriage must be an event worthy of remembrance, +Rex,” she said, as they walked together through the grounds +the morning before the wedding. “We must have something +new and novel. I am tired of brilliant parlors and gas-light. +I propose we shall have a beautiful platform built, covered +with moss and roses, beneath the blossoming trees, with the +birds singing in their boughs, upon which we shall be united. +What do you think of my idea––is it not a pretty one?”</p> +<p>“Your ideas are always poetical and fanciful,” said Rex, +glancing down into the beautiful brilliant face beside him. +“My thoughts are so dull and prosy compared with yours, are +you not afraid you will have a very monotonous life-companion?”</p> +<p>“I am going to try my best to win you from that cold reserve. +There must not be one shadow between us; do you +know, Rex, I have been thinking, if anything should ever happen +to take your love from me I should surely die. I––I am +jealous of your very thoughts. I know I ought not to admit +it, but I can not help it.”</p> +<p>Rex flushed nervously; it was really embarrassing to him, +the tender way in which she looked up to him––her black eyelids +coyly drooping over her dark, slumbrous eyes, inviting a +caress. He was certainly wooed against his will, but there was +no help for it; he was forced to take up his part and act it out +gracefully.</p> +<p>“You need not be jealous of my thoughts, Pluma,” he replied, +“for they were all of you.”</p> +<p>“I wonder if they were pleasant thoughts?” she asked, +toying with the crimson flower-bells she holds in her white +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +hands. “I have heard you sigh so much of late. Are you +quite happy, Rex?” she inquired, hesitatingly.</p> +<p>The abruptness of the question staggered him: he recovered +his composure instantly, however.</p> +<p>“How can you ask me such a question, Pluma?” he asked, +evasively; “any man ought to be proud of winning so peerless +a treasure as you are. I shall be envied by scores of disappointed +lovers, who have worshiped at your shrine. I am not +as demonstrative as some might be under similar circumstances, +but my appreciation is none the less keen.”</p> +<p>She noticed he carefully avoided the word––love.</p> +<p>In after years Rex liked to remember that, yielding to a +kindly impulse, he bent down and kissed her forehead.</p> +<p>It was the first time he had caressed her voluntarily; it was +not love which prompted the action––only kindness.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you will love me some day with your whole heart, +Rex?” she asked.</p> +<p>“You seem quite sure that I do not do that now?” he remarked.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said, clasping his arm more closely, “I often +fear you do not, but as time passes you will give me all your +affection. Love must win love.”</p> +<p>Other young girls could not have made such an open declaration +without rosy blushes suffusing their cheeks; they would +have been frightened at their free-spoken words, even though +the morrow <i>was</i> their wedding-day.</p> +<p>She stood before him in her tall, slim loveliness, as fair a +picture as any man’s eyes could rest on. She wore a most becoming +dress, and a spring blossom was in her hair. Almost +any other man’s heart would have warmed toward her as she +raised her dark eyes to his and the white fingers trembled on +his arm.</p> +<p>Rex was young, impulsive, and mortal; tender words from +such lovely lips would have intoxicated any man. Yet from +that faithful heart of his the words did not take one thought +that belonged to Daisy; he did his utmost to forget that +sunny, golden memory.</p> +<p>To Pluma, handsome, courtly Rex was an enigma. In her +own mind she liked him all the better because he had not +fallen down and worshiped her at once. Most men did that.</p> +<p>For several moments they walked along in utter silence––until +they had reached the brink of the dark pool, which lay +quite at the further end of the inclosure.</p> +<p>Pluma gave a little shuddering scream:</p> +<p>“I did not mean to bring you here,” she cried. “I always +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +avoid this path; the waters of the pool have always had a great +dread for me.”</p> +<p>“It should be filled up,” said Rex, “or fenced around; it +is certainly a dangerous locality.”</p> +<p>“It can not be filled up,” she returned, laughingly; “it is +said to be bottomless. I do not like to think of it; come away, +Rex.”</p> +<p>The magnificent bridal costume, ordered expressly from +Paris, had arrived––perfect even to the last detail. The bride-maids’ +costumes were all ready; and to everything in and +about the Hall the last finishing touches had been given.</p> +<p>All the young girls hovered constantly around Pluma, in +girl-fashion admiring the costume, the veil, the wreath, and +above all the radiantly beautiful girl who was to wear them. +Even the Glenn girls and Grace Alden were forced to admit +the willful young heiress would make the most peerless bride +they had ever beheld.</p> +<p>Little Birdie alone held aloof, much to Rex’s amusement +and Pluma’s intense mortification.</p> +<p>“Little children often take such strange freaks,” she would +say to Rex, sweetly. “I really believe your little sister intends +never to like me; I can not win one smile from her.”</p> +<p>“She is not like other children,” he replied, with a strange +twinkle in his eye. “She forms likes and dislikes to people +from simply hearing their name. Of course I agree with you +it is not right to do so, but Birdie has been humored more or +less all her life. I think she will grow to love you in time.”</p> +<p>Pluma’s lips quivered like the lips of a grieving child.</p> +<p>“I shall try so hard to make her love me, because she is +your sister, Rex.”</p> +<p>He clasped the little jeweled hands that lay so confidingly +within his own still closer, saying he knew she could not help +but succeed.</p> +<p>The whole country-side was ringing with the coming marriage. +No one could be more popular than handsome Rex +Lyon, no one admired more than the young heiress of Whitestone +Hall. The county papers were in ecstasies; they discussed +the magnificent preparations at the Hall, the number +of bride-maids, the superb wedding-presents, the arrangements +for the marriage, and the ball to be given in the evening.</p> +<p>The minister from Baltimore who was to perform the ceremony +was expected to arrive that day. That all preparations +might be completed for the coming morrow, Rex had gone +down to meet the train, and Pluma strolled into the conservatory, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +to be alone for a few moments with her own happy +thoughts.</p> +<p>Out on the green lawns happy maidens were tripping here +and there, their gay laughter floating up to her where she stood.</p> +<p>Every one seemed to be making the most of the happy occasion. +Lawn-tennis parties here and croquet-parties there, +and lovers strolling under the blossoming trees or reclining on +the rustic benches––it was indeed a happy scene.</p> +<p>Pluma leaned her dark head against the fragrant roses. +The breeze, the perfume of the flowers, all told one story to +the impassioned girl––the story of her triumph and her mad, +reckless love.</p> +<p>She gathered a spray of the fairest flowers, and fastened +them in the bodice of her dress.</p> +<p>“To-morrow I shall have won the one great prize I covet,” +she murmured, half aloud. “After to-morrow I can defy +Lester Stanwick to bring one charge against me. I shall be +Rex’s wife––it will avail him nothing.”</p> +<p>“Speaking of angels, you often hear ‘the rustle of their +wings.’ I believe there is an old adage of that sort, or something +similar,” said a deep voice beside her, and turning around +with a low cry she saw Lester Stanwick himself standing before +her.</p> +<p>For one moment her lips opened as though to utter a piercing +cry, but even the very breath seemed to die upon them, +they were so fixed and still.</p> +<p>The flowers she held in her hand fell into the fountain +against which she leaned, but she did not heed them.</p> +<p>Like one fascinated, her eyes met the gaze of the bold, flashing +dark ones bent so steadily upon her.</p> +<p>“You thought you would escape me,” he said. “How +foolish and blind you are, my clever plotter. Did you think I +did not see through your clever maneuverings? There shall +be a wedding to-morrow, but you shall marry me, instead of +handsome, debonair Rex. You can not fly from your fate.”</p> +<p>She set her lips firmly together. She had made a valiant +struggle. She would defy him to the bitter end. She was no +coward, this beautiful, imperious girl. She would die hard. +Alas! she had been too sanguine, hoping Lester Stanwick +would not return before the ceremony was performed.</p> +<p>The last hope died out of that proud, passionate heart––as +well hope to divert a tiger from its helpless prey as expect +Lester Stanwick to relinquish any plans he had once formed.</p> +<p>“I have fought my fight,” she said to herself, “and have +failed on the very threshold of victory, still, I know how to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +bear defeat. What do you propose to do?” she said, huskily. +“If there is any way I can buy your silence, name your price, +keeping back the truth will avail me little now. I love Rex, +and no power on earth shall prevent me from becoming his +wife.”</p> +<p>Lester Stanwick smiled superciliously––drawing from his +pocket a package of letters.</p> +<p>“Money could not purchase these charming <i>billets-doux</i> from +me,” he said. “This will be charming reading matter for +the Honorable Rex Lyon, and the general public to discuss.”</p> +<p>She raised her flashing eyes unflinchingly to his face, but no +word issued from her white lips.</p> +<p>“A splendid morsel for the gossips to whisper over. The +very refined and exclusive heiress of Whitestone Hall connives +to remove an innocent rival from her path, by providing money +for her to be sent off secretly to boarding-school, from which +she is to be abducted and confined in a mad-house. Your +numerous letters give full instructions; it would be useless to +deny these accusations. I hold proof positive.”</p> +<p>“That would not screen you,” she said, scornfully.</p> +<p>“I did not carry out your plans. No matter what the intentions +were, the points in the case are what actually happened. +I can swear I refused to comply with your nefarious +wishes, even though you promised me your hand and fortune +if I succeeded,” he answered, mockingly.</p> +<p>“Will not money purchase your silence?” she said, with a +deep-drawn breath. “I do not plead with you for mercy or +compassion,” she said, haughtily.</p> +<p>Lester Stanwick laughed a mocking laugh.</p> +<p>“Do not mistake me, Miss Pluma,” he said, making no attempt +at love-making; “I prefer to wrest you from Rex Lyon. +I have contemplated with intense satisfaction the blow to his +pride. It will be a glorious revenge, also giving me a charming +bride, and last, but not least, the possession at some future +day of Whitestone Hall and the Hurlhurst Plantations. A +pleasing picture, is it not, my dear?”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXII' id='CHAPTER_XXXII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> +</div> +<p>Pluma Hurlhurst never quailed beneath the cold, mocking +glance bent upon her.</p> +<p>There was no hope for her; disgrace and ruin stared her in +the face; she would defy even Fate itself to the bitter end with +a heroism worthy of a better cause. In that hour and that +mood she was capable of anything.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></div> +<p>She leaned against a tall palm-tree, looking at him with a +strange expression on her face, as she made answer, slowly:</p> +<p>“You may depend upon it, I shall never marry you, Lester +Stanwick. If I do not marry Rex I shall go unmarried to the +grave. Ah, no!” she cried desperately; “Heaven will have +more mercy, more pity than to take him from me.”</p> +<p>“What mercy or pity did you feel in thrusting poor little +Daisy Brooks from his path?” asked Stanwick, sarcastically. +“Your love has led you through dangerous paths. I should +call it certainly a most perilous love.”</p> +<p>She recoiled from him with a low cry, those words again +still ringing in her ears, “A perilous love.”</p> +<p>She laughed with a laugh that made even Stanwick’s blood +run cold––a horrible laugh.</p> +<p>“I do not grieve that she is dead,” she said. “You ought to +understand by this time I shall allow nothing to come between +Rex and me.”</p> +<p>“You forget the fine notions of honor your handsome lover +entertains; it may not have occurred to you that he might object +at the eleventh hour.”</p> +<p>“He will not,” she cried, fiercely, her bosom rising and +falling convulsively under its covering of filmy lace and the +diamond brooch which clasped it. “You do not know the +indomitable will of a desperate woman,” she gasped. “I will +see him myself and confess all to him, if you attempt to reveal +the contents of those letters. He will marry me and take +me abroad at once. If I have Rex’s love, what matters it +what the whole world knows or says?”</p> +<p>She spoke rapidly, vehemently, with flushed face and glowing +eyes; and even in her terrible anger Stanwick could not +help but notice how gloriously beautiful she was in her tragic +emotion.</p> +<p>“I have asked you to choose between us,” he said, calmly, +“and you have chosen Rex regardless of all the promises of +the past. The consequences rest upon your own head.”</p> +<p>“So be it,” she answered, haughtily.</p> +<p>With a low bow Stanwick turned and left her.</p> +<p>“<i>Au revoir</i>, my dear Pluma,” he said, turning again toward +her on the threshold. “Not farewell––I shall not give +up hope of winning the heiress of Whitestone Hall.”</p> +<p>For several moments she stood quite still among the dark-green +shrubs, and no sound told of the deadly strife and despair. +Would he see Rex and divulge the crime she had +planned? Ah! who would believe she, the proud, petted heiress +had plotted so cruelly against the life of an innocent young +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +girl because she found favor in the eyes of the lover she had +sworn to win? Ah! who could believe she had planned to +confine that sweet young life within the walls of a mad-house +until death should release her?</p> +<p>What if the plan had failed? The intention still remained +the same. She was thankful, after all, the young girl was +dead.</p> +<p>“I could never endure the thought of Rex’s intense anger +if he once imagined the truth; he would never forgive +duplicity,” she cried, wildly.</p> +<p>The proud, beautiful girl, radiant with love and happiness +a short time since, with a great cry flung herself down among +the ferns, the sunlight gleaming on the jewels, the sumptuous +morning dress, the crushed roses, and the white, despairing +face.</p> +<p>Any one who saw Pluma Hurlhurst when she entered the +drawing-room among her merry-hearted guests, would have +said that she had never shed a tear or known a sigh. Could +that be the same creature upon whose prostrate figure and +raining tears the sunshine had so lately fallen? No one could +have told that the brightness, the smiles, and the gay words +were all forced. No one could have guessed that beneath the +brilliant manner there was a torrent of dark, angry passions +and an agony of fear.</p> +<p>It was pitiful to see how her eyes wandered toward the door. +Hour after hour passed, and still Rex had not returned.</p> +<p>The hum of girlish voices around her almost made her +brain reel. Grace Alden and Miss Raynor were singing a duet +at the piano. The song they were singing fell like a death-knell +upon her ears; it was “‘He Cometh Not,’ She Said.”</p> +<p>Eve Glenn, with Birdie upon her lap, sat on an adjoining +sofa flirting desperately with the two or three devoted beaus; +every one was discussing the prospect of the coming morrow.</p> +<p>Her father had returned from Baltimore some time since. +She was too much engrossed with her thoughts of Rex to +notice the great change in him––the strange light in his eyes, +or the wistful, expectant expression of his face, as he kissed +her more fondly than he had ever done in his life before.</p> +<p>She gave appropriate answers to her guests grouped around +her, but their voices seemed afar off. Her heart and her +thoughts were with Rex. Why had he not returned? What +was detaining him? Suppose anything should happen––it +would kill her now––yet nothing could go wrong on the eve +of her wedding-day. She would not believe it. Stanwick +would not dare go to Rex with such a story––he would write +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +it––and all those things took time. With care and caution and +constant watching she would prevent Rex from receiving any +communications whatever until after the ceremony; then she +could breathe freely, for the battle so bravely fought would be +won.</p> +<p>“If to-morrow is as bright as to-day, Pluma will have a +glorious wedding-day,” said Bessie Glenn, smiling up into the +face of a handsome young fellow who was fastening a rosebud +she had just given him in the lapel of his coat with one hand, +and with the other tightly clasping the white fingers that had +held the rose.</p> +<p>He did not notice that Pluma stood in the curtained recesses +of an adjoining window as he answered, carelessly enough:</p> +<p>“Of course, I hope it will be a fine, sunshiny day, but the +indications of the weather don’t look exactly that way, if I am +any judge.”</p> +<p>“Why, you don’t think it is going to rain, do you? Why, +it will spoil the rose-bower she is to be married in and all the +beautiful decoration. Oh, please don’t predict anything so +awfully horrible; you make me feel nervous; besides, you +know what everybody says about weddings on which the rain +falls.”</p> +<p>“Would you be afraid to experiment on the idea?” asked +the impulsive young fellow, who always acted on the spur of +the moment. “If to-morrow were a rainy day, and I should +say to you, ‘Bess, will you marry me to-day or never?’ what +would your answer be?”</p> +<p>“I should say, just now, I do not like ‘ifs and ands.’ Supposing +a case, and standing face to face with it, are two different +things. I like people who say what they mean, and mean +what they say.”</p> +<p>Pluma saw the dazzling light flame into the bashful young +lover’s eyes as he bent his head lower over the blushing girl +who had shown him the right way to capture a hesitating +heart.</p> +<p>“<i>That</i> is love,” sighed Pluma. “Ah, if Rex would only +look at me like that I would think this earth a heaven.” She +looked up at the bright, dazzling clouds overhead; then she +remembered the words she had heard––“It looked like rain +on the morrow.”</p> +<p>Could those white, fleecy clouds darken on the morrow +that was to give her the only treasure she had ever coveted in +her life?</p> +<p>She was not superstitious. Even if it did rain, surely a few +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +rain-drops could not make or mar the happiness of a lifetime. +She would not believe it.</p> +<p>“Courage until to-morrow,” she said, “and my triumph +will be complete. I will have won Rex.” The little ormolu +clock on the mantel chimed the hour of five. “Heavens!” +she cried to herself, “Rex has been gone over two hours. I +feel my heart must be bursting.”</p> +<p>No one noticed Pluma’s anxiety. One moment hushed and +laughing, the queen of mirth and revelry, then pale and silent, +with shadowed eyes, furtively glancing down the broad, pebbled +path that led to the entrance gate.</p> +<p>Yet, despite her bravery, Pluma’s face and lips turned white +when she heard the confusion of her lover’s arrival.</p> +<p>Perhaps Pluma had never suffered more suspense in all her +life than was crowded into those few moments.</p> +<p>Had he seen Lester Stanwick? Had he come to denounce +her for her treachery, in his proud, clear voice, and declare +the marriage broken off?</p> +<p>She dared not step forward to greet him, lest the piercing +glance of his eyes would cause her to fall fainting at his feet.</p> +<p>“A guilty conscience needs no accuser.” Most truly the +words were exemplified in her case. Yet not one pang of remorse +swept across her proud heart when she thought of the +young girl whose life she had so skillfully blighted.</p> +<p>What was the love of Daisy Brooks, an unsophisticated +child of nature, only the overseer’s niece, compared to her own +mighty, absorbing passion?</p> +<p>The proud, haughty heiress could not understand how Rex, +polished, courteous and refined, could have stooped to such a +reckless folly. He would thank her in years to come for +sparing him from such a fate. These were the thoughts she +sought to console herself with.</p> +<p>She stood near the door when he entered, but he did not see +her; a death-like pallor swept over her face, her dark eyes had +a wild, perplexing look.</p> +<p>She was waiting in terrible suspense for Rex to call upon her +name; ask where she was, or speak some word in which she +could read her sentence of happiness or despair in the tone of +his voice.</p> +<p>She could not even catch the expression of his face; it was +turned from her. She watched him so eagerly she hardly +dared draw her breath.</p> +<p>Rex walked quickly through the room, stopping to chat +with this one or that one a moment; still, his face was not +turned for a single instant toward the spot where she stood.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span></div> +<p>Was he looking for her? She could not tell. Presently he +walked toward the conservatory, and a moment later Eve Glenn +came tripping toward her.</p> +<p>“Oh, here you are!” she cried, flinging her arms about her +in regular school-girl <i>abandon</i>, and kissing the cold, proud +mouth, that deigned no answering caress. “Rex has been +looking for you everywhere, and at last commissioned me to +find you and say he wants to speak to you. He is out on the +terrace.”</p> +<p>How she longed to ask if Rex’s face was smiling or stern, +but she dared not.</p> +<p>“Where did you say Rex was, Miss Glenn?”</p> +<p>“I said he was out on the terrace; but don’t call me Miss +Glenn, for pity’s sake––it sounds so freezingly cold. Won’t +you please call me Eve,” cried the impetuous girl––“simply +plain Eve? That has a more friendly sound, you know.”</p> +<p>Another girl less proud than the haughty heiress would have +kissed Eve’s pretty, piquant, upturned, roguish face.</p> +<p>“What did Rex have to say to her?” she asked herself, in +growing dread.</p> +<p>The last hope seemed withering in her proud, passionate +heart. She rose haughtily, and walked with the dignity of a +queen through the long drawing-room toward the terrace. +Her heart almost stopped beating as she caught sight of Rex +leaning so gracefully against the trunk of an old gnarled oak +tree, smoking a cigar. That certainly did not look as if he +meant to greet her with a kiss.</p> +<p>She went forward hesitatingly––a world of anxiety and suspense +on her face––to know her fate. The color surged over +her face, then receded from it again, as she looked at him with +a smile––a smile that was more pitiful than a sigh.</p> +<p>“Rex,” she cried, holding out her hands to him with a +fluttering, uncertain movement that stirred the perfumed +laces of the exquisite robe she wore, and the jewels on her +white, nervous hands––“Rex, I am here!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXIII' id='CHAPTER_XXXIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>We must now return to Daisy, whom we left standing in the +heart of the forest, the moonlight streaming on her upturned +face, upon which the startled horseman gazed.</p> +<p>He had not waited for her to reply, but, touching his horse +hastily with his riding-whip, he sped onward with the speed of +the wind.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></div> +<p>In that one instant Daisy had recognized the dark, sinister, +handsome face of Lester Stanwick.</p> +<p>“They have searched the pit and found I was not there. +He is searching for me; he has tracked me down!” she cried, +vehemently, pressing her little white hands to her burning +head.</p> +<p>Faster, faster flew the little feet through the long dew-damp +grasses.</p> +<p>“My troubles seem closing more darkly around me,” she +sobbed. “I wish I had never been born, then I could never +have spoiled Rex’s life. But I am leaving you, my love, my +darling, so you can marry Pluma, the heiress. You will forget +me and be happy.”</p> +<p>Poor little, neglected, unloved bride, so fair, so young, so +fragile, out alone facing the dark terrors of the night, fleeing +from the young husband who was wearing his life out in grief +for her. Ah, if the gentle winds sighing above her, or the +solemn, nodding trees had only told her, how different her life +might have been!</p> +<p>“No one has ever loved me but poor old Uncle John!” +She bent her fair young head and cried out to Heaven: +“Why has no mercy been shown to me? I have never done +one wrong, yet I am so sorely tried. Oh, mother, mother!” +she cried, raising her blue eyes up to the starry sky, “if you +could have foreseen the dark, cruel shadows that would have +folded their pitiless wings over the head of your child, would +you not have taken me with you down into the depths of the +seething waters?” She raised up her white hands pleadingly +as though she would fain pierce with her wrongs the blue skies, +and reach the great White Throne. “I must be going mad,” +she said. “Why did Rex seek me out?” she cried, in anguish. +“Why did Heaven let me love him so madly, and my whole +life be darkened by living apart from him if I am to live? I +had no thought of suffering and sorrow when I met him that +summer morning. Are the summer days to pass and never +bring him? Are the flowers to bloom, the sun to shine, the +years to come and go, yet never bring him once to me? I can +not bear it––I do not know how to live!”</p> +<p>If she could only see poor old, faithful John Brooks again +she would kneel at his feet just as she had done when she was +a little child, lay her weary head down on his toil-hardened +hand, tell him how she had suffered, and ask him how she +could die and end it all.</p> +<p>She longed so hungrily for some one to caress her, murmuring +tender words over her. She could almost hear his voice +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +saying as she told him her pitiful story: “Come to my arms, +pet, my poor little trampled Daisy! You shall never want for +some one to love you while poor old Uncle John lives. Bless +your dear little heart!”</p> +<p>The longing was strongly upon her. No one would recognize +her––she <i>must</i> go and see poor old John. She never +thought what would become of her life after that.</p> +<p>At the station she asked for a ticket for Allendale. No one +seemed to know of such a place. After a prolonged search on +the map the agent discovered it to be a little inland station +not far from Baltimore.</p> +<p>“We can sell you a ticket for Baltimore,” he said, “and +there you can purchase a ticket for the other road.”</p> +<p>And once again poor little Daisy was whirling rapidly toward +the scene of her first great sorrow.</p> +<p>Time seemed to slip by her unheeded during all that long, +tedious journey of two nights and a day.</p> +<p>“Are you going to Baltimore?” asked a gentle-faced lady, +who was strangely attracted to the beautiful, sorrowful young +girl, in which all hope, life, and sunshine seemed dead.</p> +<p>“Yes, madame,” she made answer, “I change cars there; +I am going further.”</p> +<p>The lady was struck by the peculiar mournful cadence of +the young voice.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon for my seeming rudeness,” she said, +looking long and earnestly at the fair young face; “but you +remind me so strangely of a young school-mate of my youth; +you are strangely like what she was then. We both attended +Madame Whitney’s seminary. Perhaps you have heard of the +institution; it is a very old and justly famous school.” She +wondered at the beautiful flush that stole into the girl’s flower-like +face––like the soft, faint tinting of a sea-shell. “She +married a wealthy planter,” pursued the lady, reflectively; +“but she did not live long to enjoy her happy home. One +short year after she married Evalia Hurlhurst died.” The +lady never forgot the strange glance that passed over the girl’s +face, or the wonderful light that seemed to break over it. +“Why,” exclaimed the lady, as if a sudden thought occurred +to her, “when you bought your ticket I heard you mention +Allendale. That was the home of the Hurlhursts. Is it possible +you know them? Mr. Hurlhurst is a widower––something +of a recluse, and an invalid, I have heard; he has a +daughter called Pluma.”</p> +<p>“Yes, madame,” Daisy made answer, “I have met Miss +Hurlhurst, but not her father.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></div> +<p>How bitterly this stranger’s words seemed to mock her! +Did she know Pluma Hurlhurst, the proud, haughty heiress +who had stolen her young husband’s love from her?––the dark, +sparkling, willful beauty who had crossed her innocent young +life so strangely––whom she had seen bending over <i>her</i> husband +in the pitying moonlight almost caressing him? She +thought she would cry out with the bitterness of the thought. +How strange it was! The name, Evalia Hurlhurst, seemed to +fall upon her ears like the softest, sweetest music. Perhaps +she wished she was like that young wife, who had died so long +ago, resting quietly beneath the white daisies that bore her +name.</p> +<p>“That is Madame Whitney’s,” exclaimed the lady, leaning +forward toward the window excitedly. “Dear me! I can almost +imagine I am a young girl again. Why, what is the +matter, my dear? You look as though you were about to +faint.”</p> +<p>The train whirled swiftly past––the broad, glittering Chesapeake +on one side, and the closely shaven lawn of the seminary +on the other. It was evidently recess. Young girls were +flitting here and there under the trees, as pretty a picture of +happy school life as one would wish to see. It seemed to +poor hapless Daisy long ages must have passed since that +morning poor old John Brooks had brought her, a shy, blushing, +shrinking country lassie, among those daintily attired, +aristocratic maidens, who had laughed at her coy, timid +mannerism, and at the clothes poor John wore, and at his +flaming red cotton neckerchief.</p> +<p>She had not much time for further contemplation. The +train steamed into the Baltimore depot, and she felt herself +carried along by the surging crowd that alighted from the +train.</p> +<p>She did not go into the waiting-room; she had quite forgotten +she was not at the end of her journey.</p> +<p>She followed the crowds along the bustling street, a solitary, +desolate, heart-broken girl, with a weary white face whose +beautiful, tender eyes looked in vain among the throngs that +passed her by for one kindly face or a sympathetic look.</p> +<p>Some pushed rudely by her, others looked into the beautiful +face with an ugly smile. Handsomely got-up dandies, with +fine clothes and no brains, nodded familiarly as Daisy passed +them. Some laughed, and others scoffed and jeered; but not +one––dear Heaven! not one among the vast throng gave her a +kindly glance or a word. Occasionally one, warmer hearted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +than the others, would look sadly on that desolate, beautiful, +childish face.</p> +<p>A low moan she could scarcely repress broke from her lips. +A handsomely dressed child, who was rolling a hoop in front +of her, turned around suddenly and asked her if she was ill.</p> +<p>“Ill?” She repeated the word with a vague feeling of +wonder. What was physical pain to the torture that was eating +away her young life? Ill? Why, all the illness in the +world put together could not cause the anguish she was suffering +then––the sting of a broken heart.</p> +<p>She was not ill––only desolate and forsaken.</p> +<p>Poor Daisy answered in such a vague manner that she quite +frightened the child, who hurried away as fast as she could +with her hoop, pausing now and then to look back at the +white, forlorn face on which the sunshine seemed to cast such +strange shadows.</p> +<p>On and on Daisy walked, little heeding which way she went. +She saw what appeared to be a park on ahead, and there she +bent her steps. The shady seats among the cool green grasses +under the leafy trees looked inviting. She opened the gate +and entered. A sudden sense of dizziness stole over her, and +her breath seemed to come in quick, convulsive gasps.</p> +<p>“Perhaps God has heard my prayer, Rex, my love,” she +sighed. “I am sick and weary unto death. Oh, Rex––Rex––”</p> +<p>The beautiful eyelids fluttered over the soft, blue eyes, and +with that dearly loved name on her lips, the poor little child-bride +sunk down on the cold, hard earth in a death-like swoon.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear me, Harvey, who in the world is this?” cried a +little, pleasant-voiced old lady, who had witnessed the young +girl enter the gate, and saw her stagger and fall. In a moment +she had fluttered down the path, and was kneeling by +Daisy’s side.</p> +<p>“Come here, Harvey,” she called; “it is a young girl; she +has fainted.”</p> +<p>Mr. Harvey Tudor, the celebrated detective, threw away the +cigar he had been smoking, and hastened to his wife’s side.</p> +<p>“Isn’t she beautiful?” cried the little lady, in ecstasy. +“I wonder who she is, and what she wanted.”</p> +<p>“She is evidently a stranger, and called to consult me professionally,” +responded Mr. Tudor; “she must be brought +into the house.”</p> +<p>He lifted the slight, delicate figure in his arms, and bore +her into the house.</p> +<p>“I am going down to the office now, my dear,” he said; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +“we have some important cases to look after this morning. I +will take a run up in the course of an hour or so. If the young +girl should recover and wish to see me very particularly, I suppose +you will have to send for me. Don’t get me away up here +unless you find out the case is imperative.”</p> +<p>And with a good-humored nod, the shrewd detective, so +quiet and domesticated at his own fireside, walked quickly +down the path to the gate, whistling softly to himself––thinking +with a strange, puzzled expression in his keen blue eyes, of +Daisy. Through all of his business transactions that morning +the beautiful, childish face was strangely before his mind’s eye.</p> +<p>“Confound it!” he muttered, seizing his hat, “I must +hurry home and find out at once who that pretty little creature +is––and what she wants.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXIV' id='CHAPTER_XXXIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> +</div> +<p>The sunny summer days came and went, lengthening themselves +into long weeks before Daisy Brooks opened her eyes to +consciousness. No clew could be found as to who the beautiful +young stranger was.</p> +<p>Mr. Tudor had proposed sending her to the hospital––but to +this proposition his wife would not listen.</p> +<p>“No, indeed, Harvey,” she exclaimed, twisting the soft, +golden curls over her white fingers, “she shall stay here +where I can watch over her myself, poor little dear.”</p> +<p>“You amaze me, my dear,” expostulated her husband, +mildly. “You can not tell who you may be harboring.”</p> +<p>“Now, Harvey,” exclaimed the little woman, bending over +the beautiful, still, white face resting against the crimson satin +pillow, “don’t insinuate there could be anything wrong with +this poor child. My woman’s judgment tells me she is as pure +as those lilies in yonder fountain’s bed.”</p> +<p>“If you had seen as much of the world as I have, my dear, +you would take little stock in the innocence of beautiful +women; very homely women are rarely dangerous.”</p> +<p>“There is no use in arguing the point, Harvey. I have +determined she shall not be sent to the hospital, and she shall +stay here.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor carried the point, as she always did in every +argument.</p> +<p>“Well, my dear, if any ill consequences arise from this piece +of folly of yours, remember, I shirk all responsibility.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“‘When a woman will, she will, you may depend on’t,<br /> +And when she won’t––she won’t, and there’s an end on’t,’”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>he quoted, dryly. “I sincerely hope you will not rue it.”</p> +<p>“Now, you would be surprised, my dear, to find out at +some future time you had been entertaining an angel unawares.”</p> +<p>“I should be <i>extremely</i> surprised; you have put it mildly, +my dear––nay, I may say dumbfounded––to find an angel +dwelling down here below among us sinners. My experience +has led me to believe the best place for angels is up above +where they belong. I am glad that <i>you</i> have such pretty +little notions, though, my dear. It is not best for women to +know too much of the ways of the world.”</p> +<p>“Harvey, you shock me!” cried the little lady, holding up +her hands in horror at her liege lord’s remarks.</p> +<p>Still she had her own way in the matter, and Daisy stayed.</p> +<p>Every day the detective grew more mystified as to who in +the world she could be. One thing was certain, she had seen +some great trouble which bid fair to dethrone her reason.</p> +<p>At times she would clasp his hands, calling him Uncle +John, begging him piteously to tell her how she could die. +And she talked incoherently, too, of a dark, handsome woman’s +face, that had come between her and some lost treasure.</p> +<p>Then a grave look would come into the detective’s face. +He had seen many such cases, and they always ended badly, +he said to himself. She had such an innocent face, so fair, so +childish, he could not make up his mind whether she was +sinned against or had been guilty of a hidden sin herself.</p> +<p>Love must have something to do with it, he thought, grimly. +Whenever he saw such a hopeless, despairing look on a +young and beautiful face he always set it down as a love case +in his own mind, and in nine cases out of ten he was right.</p> +<p>“Ah! it is the old, old story,” he muttered. “A pretty, +romantic school-girl, and some handsome, reckless lover,” +and something very much like an imprecation broke from his +lips, thorough man of the world though he was, as he ruminated +on the wickedness of men.</p> +<p>Two days before the marriage of Rex and Pluma was to be +solemnized, poor little Daisy awoke to consciousness, her blue +eyes resting on the joyous face of Mrs. Tudor, who bent over +her with bated breath, gazing into the upraised eyes, turned +so wonderingly upon her.</p> +<p>“You are to keep perfectly quiet, my dear,” said Mrs. +Tudor, pleasantly, laying her hands on Daisy’s lips as she attempted +to speak. “You must not try to talk or to think; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +turn your face from the light, and go quietly to sleep for a +bit, then you shall say what you please.”</p> +<p>Daisy wondered who the lady was, as she obeyed her like an +obedient, tired child––the voice seemed so motherly, so kind, +and so soothing, as she lay there, trying to realize how she +came there. Slowly all her senses struggled into life, her +memory came back, her mind and brain grew clear. Then +she remembered walking into the cool, shady garden, and the +dizziness which seemed to fall over her so suddenly. “I must +have fainted last night,” she thought. She also remembered +Pluma bending so caressingly over her young husband in the +moonlight, and that the sight had almost driven her mad, +and, despite her efforts to suppress her emotion, she began to +sob aloud.</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor hurried quickly to the bedside. She saw at +once the ice from the frozen fountain of memory had melted.</p> +<p>“If you have any great sorrow on your mind, my dear, and +wish to see Mr. Tudor, I will call him at once. He is in the +parlor.”</p> +<p>“Please don’t,” sobbed Daisy. “I don’t want to see anybody. +I must go home to Uncle John at once. Have I been +here all night?”</p> +<p>“Why, bless your dear little heart, you have been here +many a night and many a week. We thought at one time +you would surely die.”</p> +<p>“I wish I had,” moaned Daisy. In the bitterness of her +sorely wounded heart she said to herself that Providence had +done everything for her without taking her life.</p> +<p>“We thought,” pursued Mrs. Tudor, gently, “that perhaps +you desired to see my husband––he is a detective––upon +some matter. You fainted when you were just within the +gate.”</p> +<p>“Was it your garden?” asked Daisy, surprisedly. “I +thought it was a park!”</p> +<p>“Then you were not in search of Mr. Tudor, my dear?” +asked his wife, quite mystified.</p> +<p>“No,” replied Daisy. “I wanted to get away from every +one who knew me, or every one I knew, except Uncle John.”</p> +<p>“I shall not question her concerning herself to-day,” Mrs. +Tudor thought. “I will wait a bit until she is stronger.” +She felt delicate about even asking her name. “She will seek +my confidence soon,” she thought. “I must wait.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor was a kind-hearted little soul. She tried every +possible means of diverting Daisy’s attention from the absorbing +sorrow which seemed consuming her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></div> +<p>She read her choice, sparkling paragraphs from the papers, +commenting upon them, in a pretty, gossiping way.</p> +<p>Nothing seemed to interest the pretty little creature, or +bring a smile to the quivering, childish lips.</p> +<p>“Ah! here is something quite racy!” she cried, drawing her +chair up closer to the bedside. “<i>A scandal in high life.</i> This +is sure to be entertaining.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor was a good little woman, but, like all women in +general, she delighted in a spicy scandal.</p> +<p>A handsome stranger had married a beautiful heiress. For +a time all went merry as a marriage-bell. Suddenly a second +wife appeared on the scene, of which no one previously knew +the existence. The husband had sincerely believed himself +separated by law from wife number one, but through some +technicality of the law, the separation was pronounced illegal, +and the beautiful heiress bitterly realized to her cost that she +was no wife.</p> +<p>“It must be a terrible calamity to be placed in such a predicament,” +cried Mrs. Tudor, energetically. “I blame the +husband for not finding out beyond a doubt that he was free +from his first wife.”</p> +<p>A sudden thought seemed to come to Daisy, so startling it +almost took her breath away.</p> +<p>“Supposing a husband left his wife, and afterward thought +her dead, even though she were not, and he should marry +again, would it not be legal? Supposing the poor, deserted +wife knew of it, but allowed him to marry that some one else, +because she believed he was unhappy with herself, would it +not be legal?” she repeated in an intense voice, striving to +appear calm.</p> +<p>“I can scarcely understand the question, my dear. I should +certainly say, if the first wife knew her husband was about to +remarry, and she knew she was not separated from him by +law or death, she was certainly a criminal in allowing the +ceremony to proceed. Why, did you ever hear of such a +peculiar case, my dear?”</p> +<p>“No,” replied Daisy, flushing crimson. “I was thinking +of Enoch Arden.”</p> +<p>“Why, there is scarcely a feature in Enoch Arden’s case +resembling the one you have just cited. You must have made +a mistake?”</p> +<p>“Yes; you are right. I have made a mistake,” muttered +Daisy, growing deadly pale. “I did not know. I believed it +was right.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></div> +<p>“You believed what was right?” asked Mrs. Tudor, in +amazement.</p> +<p>“I believed it was right for the first wife to go out of her +husband’s life if she had spoiled it, and leave him free to woo +and win the bride he loved,” replied Daisy, pitifully embarrassed.</p> +<p>“Why, you innocent child,” laughed Mrs. Tudor, “I have +said he would <i>not</i> be free as long as the law did not separate +him from his first wife, and she was alive. It is against the +law of Heaven for any man to have two wives; and if the first +wife remained silent and saw the sacred ceremony profaned by +that silence, she broke the law of Heaven––a sin against God +beyond pardon. Did you speak?” she asked, seeing Daisy’s +white lips move.</p> +<p>She did not know a prayer had gone up to God from that +young tortured heart for guidance.</p> +<p>Had she done wrong in letting Rex and the whole world believe +her dead? Was it ever well to do a wrong that good +should come from it?</p> +<p>And the clear, innocent, simple conscience was quick to +answer, “No!”</p> +<p>Poor Daisy looked at the position in every possible way, and +the more she reflected the more frightened she became.</p> +<p>Poor, little, artless child-bride, she was completely bewildered. +She could find no way out of her difficulty until the +idea occurred to her that the best person to help her would be +John Brooks; and her whole heart and soul fastened eagerly +on this.</p> +<p>She could not realize she had lain ill so long. Oh, Heaven, +what might have happened in the meantime, if Rex should +marry Pluma? She would not be his wife because <i>she</i>––who +was a barrier between them––lived.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXV' id='CHAPTER_XXXV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> +</div> +<p>Daisy had decided the great question of her life. Yes, she +would go to John Brooks with her pitiful secret, and, kneeling +at his feet, tell him all, and be guided by his judgment.</p> +<p>“I can never go back to Rex,” she thought, wearily. “I +have spoiled his life; he does not love me; he wished to be free +and marry Pluma.”</p> +<p>“You must not think of the troubles of other people, my +dear,” said Mrs. Tudor, briskly, noting the thoughtful expression +of the fair young face. “Such cases as I have just +read you are fortunately rare. I should not have read you the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +scandals. Young girls like to hear about the marriages best. +Ah! here is one that is interesting––a grand wedding which is +to take place at Whitestone Hall, in Allendale, to-morrow +night. I have read of it before; it will be a magnificent affair. +The husband-to-be, Mr. Rexford Lyon, is very wealthy; and +the bride, Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, is quite a society belle––a +beauty and an heiress.”</p> +<p>Poor Daisy! although she had long expected it, the announcement +seemed like a death-blow to her loving little heart; in a +single instant all her yearning, passionate love for her handsome +young husband awoke into new life.</p> +<p>She had suddenly awakened to the awful reality that her +husband was about to marry another.</p> +<p>“Oh, pitiful Heaven, what shall I do?” she cried, wringing +her hands. “I will be too late to warn them. Yet I must––I +must! It must not be!” she cried out to herself; “the +marriage would be wrong.” If she allowed it to go on, she +would be guilty of a crime; therefore, she must prevent it.</p> +<p>Pluma was her mortal enemy. Yet she must warn her that +the flower-covered path she was treading led to a precipice. +The very thought filled her soul with horror.</p> +<p>She wasted no more time in thinking, she must act.</p> +<p>“I can not go to poor old Uncle John first,” she told herself. +“I must go at once to Pluma. Heaven give me strength +to do it. Rex will never know, and I can go quietly out of +his life again.”</p> +<p>The marriage must not be! Say, think, argue with herself +as she would, she could not help owning to herself that it was +something that must be stopped at any price. She had not +realized it in its true light before. She had had a vague idea +that her supposed death would leave Rex free to marry Pluma. +That wrong could come of it, in any way, she never once +dreamed.</p> +<p>The terrible awakening truth had flashed upon her suddenly; +she might hide herself forever from her husband, but it would +not lessen the fact; she, and she only, was his lawful wife before +God and man. From Heaven nothing could be hidden.</p> +<p>Her whole heart seemed to go out to her young husband and +cling to him as it had never done before.</p> +<p>“What a fatal love mine was!” she said to herself; “how +fatal, how cruel to me!”</p> +<p>To-morrow night! Oh, Heaven! would she be in time to +save him? The very thought seemed to arouse all her energy.</p> +<p>“Why, what are you going to do, my dear?” cried Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +Tudor, in consternation, as Daisy staggered, weak and trembling, +from her couch.</p> +<p>“I am going away,” she cried. “I have been guilty of a +great wrong. I can not tell you all that I have done, but I +must atone for it if it is in my power while yet there is +time. Pity me, but do not censure me;” and sobbing as if +her heart would break, she knelt at the feet of the kind friend +Heaven had given her and told her all.</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor listened in painful interest and amazement. It +was a strange story this young girl told her; it seemed more +like a romance than a page from life’s history.</p> +<p>“You say you must prevent this marriage at Whitestone +Hall.” She took Daisy’s clasped hands from her weeping +face, and holding them in her own looked into it silently, +keenly, steadily. “How could you do it? What is Rexford +Lyon to you?”</p> +<p>Lower and lower drooped the golden bowed head, and a +voice like no other voice, like nothing human, said:</p> +<p>“I am Rex Lyon’s wife, his wretched, unhappy, abandoned +wife.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor dropped her hands with a low cry of dismay.</p> +<p>“You will keep my secret,” sobbed Daisy; and in her great +sorrow she did not notice the lady did not promise.</p> +<p>In vain Mrs. Tudor pleaded with her to go back to her husband +and beg him to hear her.</p> +<p>“No,” said Daisy, brokenly. “He said I had spoiled his +life, and he would never forgive me. I have never taken his +name, and I never shall. I will be Daisy Brooks until I die.”</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks!” The name seemed familiar to Mrs. +Tudor, yet she could not tell where she had heard it before.</p> +<p>Persuasion was useless. “Perhaps Heaven knows best,” +sighed Mrs. Tudor, and with tears in her eyes (for she had +really loved the beautiful young stranger, thrown for so many +long weeks upon her mercy and kindness) she saw Daisy depart.</p> +<p>“May God grant you may not be too late!” she cried, +fervently, clasping the young girl, for the last time, in her +arms.</p> +<p>Too late! The words sounded like a fatal warning to her. +No, no; she could not, she must not, be too late!</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>At the very moment Daisy had left the detective’s house, +Basil Hurlhurst was closeted with Mr. Tudor in his private +office, relating minutely the disappearance of his infant daughter, +as told him by the dying housekeeper, Mrs. Corliss.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></div> +<p>“I will make you a rich man for life,” he cried, vehemently, +“if you can trace my long-lost child, either dead or alive!”</p> +<p>Mr. Tudor shook his head. “I am inclined to think there +is little hope, after all these years.”</p> +<p>“Stranger things than that have happened,” cried Basil +Hurlhurst, tremulously. “You must give me hope, Mr. +Tudor. You are a skillful, expert detective; you will find +her, if any one can. If my other child were living,” he continued, +with an effort, “you know it would make considerable +difference in the distribution of my property. On the night +my lost child was born I made my will, leaving Whitestone +Hall and the Hurlhurst Plantations to the child just born, and +the remainder of my vast estates I bequeathed to my daughter +Pluma. I believed my little child buried with its mother, and +in all these years that followed I never changed that will––it +still stands. My daughter Pluma is to be married to-morrow +night. I have not told her of the startling discovery I have +made; for if anything should come of it, her hopes of a lifetime +would be dashed. She believes herself sole heiress to my +wealth. I have made up my mind, however,” he continued, +eagerly, “to confide in the young man who is to be my future +son-in-law. If nothing ever comes of this affair, Pluma need +never know of it.”</p> +<p>“That would be a wise and safe plan,” assented the detective.</p> +<p>“Wealth can have no influence over him,” continued the +father, reflectively; “for Mr. Rex Lyon’s wealth is sufficient +for them, even if they never had a single dollar from me; +still, it is best to mention this matter to him.”</p> +<p>Rex Lyon! Ah! the detective remembered him well––the +handsome, debonair young fellow who had sought his services +some time since, whose wife had died such a tragic death. He +remembered how sorry he had been for the young husband; +still he made no comment. He had little time to ruminate +upon past affairs. It was his business now to glean from Mr. +Hurlhurst all the information possible to assist him in the difficult +search he was about to commence. If he gave him even +the slightest clew, he could have had some definite starting +point. The detective was wholly at sea––it was like looking +for a needle in a hay-stack.</p> +<p>“You will lose no time,” said Basil Hurlhurst, rising to depart. +“Ah!” he exclaimed, “I had forgotten to leave you +my wife’s portrait. I have a fancy the child, if living, must +have her mother’s face.”</p> +<p>At that opportune moment some one interrupted them. Mr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +Tudor had not time to open the portrait and examine it then, +and, placing it securely in his private desk, he courteously bade +Mr. Hurlhurst good-afternoon; adding, if he <i>should</i> find a +possible clew, he would let him know at once, or, perhaps, +take a run up to Whitestone Hall to look around a bit among +the old inhabitants of that locality.</p> +<p>It was almost time for quitting the office for the night, when +the detective thought of the portrait. He untied the faded +blue ribbon, and touched the spring; the case flew open, revealing +a face that made him cry out in amazement:</p> +<p>“Pshaw! people have a strange trick of resembling each +other very often,” he muttered; “I must be mistaken.”</p> +<p>Yet the more he examined the fair, bewitching face of the +portrait, with its childish face and sunny, golden curls, the +more he knit his brow and whistled softly to himself––a habit +he had when thinking deeply.</p> +<p>He placed the portrait in his breast-pocket, and walked +slowly home. A brilliant idea was in his active brain.</p> +<p>“I shall soon see,” he muttered.</p> +<p>His wife met him at the door, and he saw that her eyes were +red with weeping.</p> +<p>“What is the commotion, my dear?” he asked, hanging +his hat and coat on the hat-rack in the hall. “What’s the +difficulty?”</p> +<p>“Our protégée has gone, Harvey; she––”</p> +<p>“Gone!” yelled the detective, frantically, “where did she +go? How long has she been gone?”</p> +<p>Down from the rack came his hat and coat.</p> +<p>“Where are you going, Harvey?”</p> +<p>“I am going to hunt that girl up just as fast as I can.”</p> +<p>“She did not wish to see you, my dear.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t the time to explain to you,” he expostulated. +“Of course, you have no idea where she went, have you?”</p> +<p>“Wait a bit, Harvey,” she replied, a merry twinkle in her +eye. “You have given me no time to tell you. I do know +where she went. Sit down and I will tell you all about it.”</p> +<p>“You will make a long story out of nothing,” he exclaimed, +impatiently; “and fooling my time here may cost me a fortune.”</p> +<p>Very reluctantly Mr. Tudor resumed his seat at his wife’s +earnest persuasion.</p> +<p>“Skim lightly over the details, my dear; just give me the +main points,” he said.</p> +<p>Like the good little wife she was, Mrs. Tudor obediently +obeyed.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></div> +<p>It was not often the cool, calculating detective allowed himself +to get excited, but as she proceeded he jumped up from +his seat, and paced restlessly up and down the room. He was +literally astounded.</p> +<p>“Rex Lyon’s wife,” he mused, thoughtfully. “Well, in +all the years of my experience I have never come across anything +like this. She has gone to Whitestone Hall, you say, to +stop the marriage?” he questioned, eagerly.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, “the poor child was almost frantic over +it. You seem greatly agitated, Harvey. Have you some new +case connected with her?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he answered, grimly. “I think I have two cases.”</p> +<p>Mr. Tudor seldom brought his business perplexities to his +fireside. His little wife knew as little of business matters as +the sparrows twittering on the branches of the trees out in the +garden.</p> +<p>He made up his mind not to mention certain suspicions that +had lodged in his mind until he saw his way clearly out of the +complicated affair.</p> +<p>He determined it would do no harm to try an experiment, +however. Suiting the action to the thought, he drew out the +portrait from his pocket.</p> +<p>“I do not think I shall have as much trouble with this affair +as I anticipated.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor came and leaned over his shoulder.</p> +<p>“Whose picture have you there, Harvey? Why, I declare,” +she cried, in amazement, “if it isn’t Daisy Brooks!”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Rex Lyon, you mean,” said the detective, with a sly +twinkle in his eye. “But for once in your life you are at sea––and +far from shore; this portrait represents a different person +altogether. Come, come, wife, get me a cup of tea––quick––and +a biscuit,” he cried, leading the way to the +kitchen, where the savory supper was cooking. “I haven’t +time to wait for tea, I must overtake that girl before she +reaches Whitestone Hall.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXVI' id='CHAPTER_XXXVI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> +</div> +<p>The shade of night was wrapping its dusky mantle over the +earth as Daisy, flushed and excited, and trembling in every +limb, alighted from the train at Allendale.</p> +<p>Whitestone Hall was quite a distance from the station; she +had quite a walk before her.</p> +<p>Not a breath of air seemed to stir the branches of the trees, +and the inky blackness of the sky presaged the coming storm.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span></div> +<p>Since dusk the coppery haze seemed to gather itself together; +great purple masses of clouds piled themselves in the sky; a +lurid light overspread the heavens, and now and then the +dense, oppressive silence was broken by distant peals of thunder, +accompanied by great fierce rain-drops.</p> +<p>Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, struggling bravely on +through the storm and the darkness, her heart beating so loudly +she wondered it did not break.</p> +<p>Poor child! how little she knew she was fast approaching +the crisis of her life!</p> +<p>She remembered, with a little sob, the last time she had +traversed that road––she was seated by John Brooks’s side +straining her eyes toward the bend in the road, watching eagerly +for the first glimpse of the magnolia-tree, and the handsome +young husband waiting there.</p> +<p>Coy blushes suffused Daisy’s cheeks as she struggled on +through the pouring rain. She forgot she was a wretched, +unpitied, forsaken little bride, on a mission of such great importance. +She was only a simple child, after all, losing sight +of all the whole world, as her thoughts dwelt on the handsome +young fellow, her husband in name only, whom she saw waiting +for her at the trysting-place, looking so cool, so handsome +and lovable in his white linen suit and blue tie; his white straw +hat, with the blue-dotted band around it, lying on the green +grass beside him, and the sunshine drifting through the green +leaves on his smiling face and brown, curling hair.</p> +<p>“If Rex had only known I was innocent, he could not have +judged me so harshly. Oh, my love––my love!” she cried out. +“Heaven must have made us for each other, but a fate more +cruel than death has torn us asunder. Oh, Rex, my love, if +you had only been more patient with me!”</p> +<p>She crept carefully along the road through the intense darkness +and the down-pouring rain. She knew every inch of the +ground. She could not lose her way. She reached the turn +in the road which was but a few feet distant from the magnolia-tree +where first she had met Rex and where she had seen him +last––a few steps more and she would reach it.</p> +<p>A blinding glare of lightning lighted up the scene for one +brief instant; there was the tree, but, oh! was it only a fancy +of her imagination? she thought she saw a man’s figure kneeling +under it.</p> +<p>“Who was he, and what was he doing there?” she wondered. +She stood rooted to the spot. “Perhaps he had taken +refuge there from the fury of the storm.”</p> +<p>Daisy was a shrinking, timid little creature; she dared not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +move a step further, although the golden moments that flitted +by were as precious as her life-blood.</p> +<p>She drew back, faint with fear, among the protecting +shadows of the trees. Another flash of light––the man was +surely gathering wild flowers from the rain-drenched grass.</p> +<p>“Surely the man must be mad,” thought Daisy, with a cold +thrill of horror.</p> +<p>Her limbs trembled so from sheer fright they refused to +bear her slight weight, and with a shudder of terror she sunk +down in the wet grass, her eyes fixed as one fascinated on the +figure under the tree, watching his every movement, as the +lurid lightning illumined the scene at brief intervals.</p> +<p>The great bell from the turret of Whitestone Hall pealed +the hour of seven, and in the lightning’s flash she saw the man +arise from his knees; in one hand he held a small bunch of +flowers, the other was pressed over his heart.</p> +<p>Surely there was something strangely familiar in that graceful +form; then he turned his face toward her.</p> +<p>In that one instantaneous glance she had recognized him––it +was Rex, her husband––as he turned hastily from the spot, +hurrying rapidly away in the direction of Whitestone Hall.</p> +<p>“Why was Rex there alone on his wedding-night under the +magnolia-tree in the terrible storm?” she asked herself, in a +strange, bewildered way. “What could it mean?” She had +heard the ceremony was to be performed promptly at half past +eight, it was seven already. “What could it mean?”</p> +<p>She had been too much startled and dismayed when she +found it was Rex to make herself known. Ah, no, Rex must +never know she was so near him; it was Pluma she must see.</p> +<p>“Why had he come to the magnolia-tree?” she asked herself +over and over again. A moment later she had reached +the self-same spot, and was kneeling beneath the tree, just as +Rex had done. She put out her little white hand to caress +the grass upon which her husband had knelt, but it was not +grass which met her touch, but a bed of flowers; that was +strange, too.</p> +<p>She never remembered flowers to grow on that spot. There +was nothing but the soft carpet of green grass, she remembered.</p> +<p>One or two beneath her touch were broken from the stem. +She knew Rex must have dropped them, and the poor little +soul pressed the flowers to her lips, murmuring passionate, loving +words over them. She did not know the flowers were +daisies; yet they seemed so familiar to the touch.</p> +<p>She remembered how she had walked home from the rectory +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +with Rex in the moonlight, and thought to herself how funny +it sounded to hear Rex call her his wife, in that rich melodious +voice of his. Septima had said it was such a terrible thing to +be married. She had found it just the reverse, as she glanced +up into her pretty young husband’s face, as they walked home +together; and how well she remembered how Rex had taken +her in his arms at the gate, kissing her rosy, blushing face, +until she cried out for mercy.</p> +<p>A sudden, blinding flash of lightning lighted up the spot +with a lurid light, and she saw a little white cross, with white +daisies growing around it, and upon the cross, in that one +meteoric flash, she read the words, “Sacred to the memory of +Daisy Brooks.”</p> +<p>She did not faint, or cry out, or utter any word. She realized +all in an instant why Rex had been there. Perhaps he +felt some remorse for casting her off so cruelly. If some tender +regret for her, whom he supposed dead, was not stirring in +his heart, why was he there, kneeling before the little cross +which bore her name, on his wedding-night?</p> +<p>Could it be that he had ever loved her? She held out her +arms toward the blazing lights that shone in the distance from +Whitestone Hall, with a yearning, passionate cry. Surely, +hers was the saddest fate that had ever fallen to the lot of a +young girl.</p> +<p>A great thrill of joy filled her heart, that she was able to +prevent the marriage.</p> +<p>She arose from her knees and made her way swiftly through +the storm and the darkness, toward the distant cotton fields. +She did not wish to enter the Hall by the main gate; there was +a small path, seldom used, that led to the Hall, which she had +often taken from John Brooks’s cottage; that was the one she +chose to-night.</p> +<p>Although the storm raged in all its fury without, the interior +of Whitestone Hall was ablaze with light, that streamed with +a bright, golden glow from every casement.</p> +<p>Strains of music, mingled with the hum of voices, fell upon +Daisy’s ear, as she walked hurriedly up the path. The damp +air that swept across her face with the beating rain was odorous +with the perfume of rare exotics.</p> +<p>The path up which she walked commanded a full view of +Pluma Hurlhurst’s boudoir.</p> +<p>The crimson satin curtains, for some reason, were still +looped back, and she could see the trim little maid arranging +her long dark hair; she wore a silver-white dressing-robe, bordered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +around with soft white swan’s-down and her dainty white +satin-slippered feet rested on a crimson velvet hassock.</p> +<p>“How beautiful she is!” thought the poor little child-wife, +wistfully gazing at her fair, false enemy. “I can not wonder +Rex is dazzled by her peerless, royal beauty. I was mad to +indulge the fatal, foolish dream that he could ever love me, +poor, plain little Daisy Brooks.”</p> +<p>Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, and her thick veil +more securely over her face. As she raised the huge brass +knocker her heart beat pitifully, yet she told herself she must +be brave to the bitter end.</p> +<p>One, two, three minutes passed. Was no one coming to +answer the summons? Yes––some one came at last, a spruce +little French maid, whom Daisy never remembered having seen +before.</p> +<p>She laughed outright when Daisy falteringly stated her +errand.</p> +<p>“You are mad to think mademoiselle will see you to-night,” +she answered, contemptuously. “Do you not know this is +her wedding-night?”</p> +<p>“She is not married <i>yet</i>?” cried Daisy, in a low, wailing +voice. “Oh, I must see her!”</p> +<p>With a quizzical expression crossing her face the girl shrugged +her shoulders, as she scanned the little dark, dripping figure, +answering mockingly:</p> +<p>“The poor make one grand mistake, insisting on what the +rich must do. I say again, my lady will not see you––you had +better go about your business.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I <i>must</i> see her! indeed, I must!” pleaded Daisy. +“Your heart, dear girl, is human, and you can see my anguish +is no light one.”</p> +<p>Her courage and high resolve seemed to give way, and she +wept––as women weep only once in a lifetime––but the heart +of the French maid was obdurate.</p> +<p>“Mademoiselle would only be angry,” she said; “it would +be as much as my place is worth to even mention you to +her.”</p> +<p>“But my errand can brook no delay,” urged Daisy. “You +do not realize,” she gasped, brokenly, while her delicate frame +was shaken with sobs, and the hot tears fell like rain down +her face.</p> +<p>“All that you say is useless,” cried the girl, impatiently, as +she purposely obstructed the passage-way, holding the doorknob +in her hand; “all your speech is in vain––she will not +see you, I say––I will not take her your message.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span></div> +<p>“Then I will go to her myself,” cried Daisy, in desperate +determination.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, Marie?” cried a shrill voice from the +head of the rose-lighted stairway; “what in the world keeps +you down there so long? Come here instantly.”</p> +<p>Daisy knew too well the handsome, impatient face and the +imperious, commanding voice.</p> +<p>“Miss Hurlhurst,” she called out, piteously, “I must see +you for a few minutes. I shall die if you refuse me. My +errand is one of almost life and death; if you knew how vitally +important it was you would not refuse me,” she panted.</p> +<p>Pluma Hurlhurst laughed a little hard laugh that had no +music in it.</p> +<p>“What would a hundred lives or deaths matter to me?” she +said, contemptuously. “I would not listen to you ten minutes +to-night if I actually knew it was to save your life,” cried the +haughty beauty, stamping her slippered foot impatiently.</p> +<p>“It is for your own sake,” pleaded Daisy. “See, I kneel +to you, Miss Hurlhurst. If you would not commit a crime, I +implore you by all you hold sacred, to hear me––grant me but +a few brief moments.”</p> +<p>“Not an instant,” cried Pluma, scornfully; “shut the +door, Marie, and send that person from the house.”</p> +<p>“Oh, what shall I do!” cried Daisy, wringing her hands. +“I am driven to the very verge of madness! Heaven pity me––the +bitter consequence must fall upon your own head.”</p> +<p>She turned away with a low, bitter cry, as the maid slammed +the heavy oaken door in her face.</p> +<p>“There is no other way for me to do,” she told herself, +despairingly, “but to see Rex. I do not know how I am going +to live through the ordeal of entering his presence––listening +to his voice––knowing I bring him such a burden of woe––spoiling +his life for the second time.”</p> +<p>She did not hear the door quietly reopen.</p> +<p>“I have heard all that has just passed, young lady,” said a +kind voice close beside her. “I am extremely sorry for you––your +case seems a pitiful one. I am sorry my daughter refused +to see you; perhaps I can be of some assistance to you. +I am Miss Hurlhurst’s father.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXVII' id='CHAPTER_XXXVII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> +</div> +<p>For a moment Daisy stood irresolute. “Follow me into +my study, and tell me your trouble. You say it concerns my +daughter. Perhaps I can advise you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span></div> +<p>Ah, yes! he above all others could help her––he was Pluma’s +father––he could stop the fatal marriage. She would not be +obliged to face Rex.</p> +<p>Without another word Daisy turned and followed him. Although +Daisy had lived the greater portion of her life at John +Brooks’ cottage on the Hurlhurst plantation, this was the first +time she had ever gazed upon the face of the recluse master of +Whitestone Hall. He had spent those years abroad; and poor +Daisy’s banishment dated from the time the lawn fête had +been given in honor of their return.</p> +<p>Daisy glanced shyly up through her veil with a strange feeling +of awe at the noble face, with the deep lines of suffering +around the mouth, as he opened his study door, and, with a +stately inclination of the head, bade her enter.</p> +<p>“His face is not like Pluma’s,” she thought, with a strange +flutter at her heart. “He looks good and kind. I am sure I +can trust him.”</p> +<p>Daisy was quite confused as she took the seat he indicated. +Mr. Hurlhurst drew up his arm-chair opposite her, and waited +with the utmost patience for her to commence.</p> +<p>She arose and stood before him, clasping her trembling little +white hands together supplicatingly. He could not see her +face, for she stood in the shadow, and the room was dimly +lighted; but he knew that the sweet, pathetic voice was like +the sound of silvery bells chiming some half-forgotten strain.</p> +<p>“I have come to tell you this wedding can not––must not––go +on to-night!” she cried, excitedly.</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst certainly thought the young girl standing +before him must be mad.</p> +<p>“I do not understand,” he said, slowly, yet gently. “Why +do you, a stranger, come to me on my daughter’s wedding-night +with such words as these? What reason can you offer +why this marriage should not proceed?”</p> +<p>He could not tell whether she had heard his words or not, +she stood before him so silent, her little hands working nervously +together. She looked wistfully into his face, and she +drew her slender figure up to its full height, as she replied, in +a low, passionate, musical voice:</p> +<p>“Mr. Lyon can not marry your daughter, sir, for he has a +living wife.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Lyon has a wife?” repeated Basil Hurlhurst, literally +dumbfounded with amazement. “In Heaven’s name, explain +yourself!” he cried, rising hastily from his chair and facing +her.</p> +<p>The agitation on his face was almost alarming. His grand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +old face was as white as his linen. His eyes were full of +eager, painful suspense and excitement. With a violent effort +at self-control he restrained his emotions, sinking back in his +arm-chair like one who had received an unexpected blow.</p> +<p>Daisy never remembered in what words she told him the +startling truth. He never interrupted her until she had quite +finished.</p> +<p>“You will not blame Rex,” she pleaded, her sweet voice +choking with emotion; “he believes me dead.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst did not answer; his thoughts were too confused. +Yes, it was but too true––the marriage could not go +on. He reached hastily toward the bell-rope.</p> +<p>“You will not let my––Rex know until I am far away,” she +cried, piteously, as she put her marriage certificate in Mr. +Hurlhurst’s hand.</p> +<p>“I am going to send for Rex to come here at once,” he +made answer.</p> +<p>With a low, agonized moan, Daisy grasped his outstretched +hand, scarcely knowing what she did.</p> +<p>“Oh, please do not, Mr. Hurlhurst,” she sobbed. “Rex +must not see me; I should die if you sent for him; I could not +bear it––indeed, I could not.” She was looking at him, all +her heart in her eyes, and, as if he felt magnetically the power +of her glance, he turned toward her, meeting the earnest gaze +of the blue, uplifted eyes.</p> +<p>The light fell full upon her fair, flushed face, and the bonnet +and veil she wore had fallen back from the golden head.</p> +<p>A sudden mist seemed to come before his eyes, and he +caught his breath with a sharp gasp.</p> +<p>“What did you say your name was before you were married?” +he asked, in a low, intense voice. “I––I––did not +quite understand.”</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks, your overseer’s niece,” she answered, simply.</p> +<p>She wondered why he uttered such a dreary sigh as he muttered, +half aloud, how foolish he was to catch at every straw +of hope.</p> +<p>Carefully he examined the certificate. It was too true. It +certainly certified Rexford Lyon and Daisy Brooks were joined +together in the bonds of matrimony nearly a year before. +And then he looked at the paper containing the notice of her +tragic death, which Daisy had read and carefully saved. +Surely no blame could be attached to Rex, in the face of these +proofs.</p> +<p>He was sorry for the beautiful, haughty heiress, to whom +this terrible news would be a great shock; he was sorry for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +Rex, he had grown so warmly attached to him of late, but he +felt still more sorry for the fair child-bride, toward whom he +felt such a yearning, sympathetic pity.</p> +<p>The great bell in the tower slowly pealed the hour of eight, +with a dull, heavy clang, and he suddenly realized what was to +be done must be done at once.</p> +<p>“I must send for both Rex and Pluma,” he said, laying his +hands on the beautiful, bowed head; “but, if it will comfort +you to be unobserved during the interview, you shall have +your wish.” He motioned her to one of the curtained recesses, +and placed her in an easy-chair. He saw she was trembling +violently.</p> +<p>It was a hard ordeal for him to go through, but there was +no alternative.</p> +<p>He touched the bell with a shaking hand, thrusting the +certificate and paper into his desk.</p> +<p>“Summon my daughter Pluma to me at once,” he said to +the servant who answered the summons, “and bid Mr. Lyon +come to me here within half an hour.”</p> +<p>He saw the man held a letter in his hand.</p> +<p>“If you please, sir,” said the man, “as I was coming to +answer your bell I met John Brooks, your overseer, in the hall +below. A stranger was with him, who requested me to give +you this without delay.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst broke open the seal. There were but a few +penciled words, which ran as follows:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class='smcap'>Mr. Hurlhurst,</span>––Will you kindly grant me an immediate +interview? I shall detain you but a few moments.</p> +<p class='ralign'>“Yours, hastily,<span class='rindent8'> </span><br /> +“<span class='smcap'>Harvey Tudor,</span><span class='rindent4'> </span><br /> +“Of Tudor, Peck & Co, Detectives, Baltimore.”<span class='rindent2'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>The man never forgot the cry that came from his master’s +lips as he read those brief words.</p> +<p>“Yes, tell him to come up at once,” he cried; “I will see +him here.”</p> +<p>He forgot the message he had sent for Pluma and Rex––forgot +the shrinking, timid little figure in the shadowy drapery +of the curtains––even the gay hum of the voices down below, +and the strains of music, or that the fatal marriage moment +was drawing near.</p> +<p>He was wondering if the detective’s visit brought him a +gleam of hope. Surely he could have no other object in calling +so hurriedly on this night above all other nights.</p> +<p>A decanter of wine always sat on the study table. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +turned toward it now with feverish impatience, poured out a +full glass with his nervous fingers, and drained it at a single +draught.</p> +<p>A moment later the detective and John Brooks, looking pale +and considerably excited, were ushered into the study.</p> +<p>For a single instant the master of Whitestone Hall glanced +into the detective’s keen gray eyes for one ray of hope, as he +silently grasped his extended hand.</p> +<p>“I see we are alone,” said Mr. Tudor, glancing hurriedly +around the room––“we three, I mean,” he added.</p> +<p>Suddenly Basil Hurlhurst thought of the young girl, quite +hidden from view.</p> +<p>“No,” he answered, leading the way toward an inner room, +separated from the study by a heavy silken curtain; “but in +this apartment we shall certainly be free from interruption. +Your face reveals nothing,” he continued, in an agitated voice, +“but I believe you have brought me news of my child.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst had no idea the conversation carried on in +the small apartment to which he had conducted them could +be overheard from the curtained recess in which Daisy sat. +But he was mistaken; Daisy could hear every word of it.</p> +<p>She dared not cry out or walk forth from her place of concealment +lest she should come suddenly face to face with Rex.</p> +<p>As the light had fallen on John Brooks’ honest face, how +she had longed to spring forward with a glad little cry and +throw herself into his strong, sheltering arms! She wondered +childishly why he was there with Mr. Tudor, the detective, +whose voice she had instantly recognized.</p> +<p>“I have two errands here to-night,” said the detective, +pleasantly. “I hope I shall bring good news, in one sense; +the other we will discuss later on.”</p> +<p>The master of Whitestone Hall made no comments; still he +wondered why the detective had used the words “one sense.” +Surely, he thought, turning pale, his long-lost child could not +be dead.</p> +<p>Like one in a dream, Daisy heard the detective go carefully +over the ground with Basil Hurlhurst––all the incidents connected +with the loss of his child. Daisy listened out of sheer +wonder. She could not tell why.</p> +<p>“I think we have the right clew,” continued the detective, +“but we have no actual proof to support our supposition; +there is one part still cloudy.”</p> +<p>There were a few low-murmured words spoken to John +Brooks. There was a moment of silence, broken by her uncle +John’s voice. For several moments he talked rapidly and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +earnestly, interrupted now and then by an exclamation of surprise +from the master of Whitestone Hall.</p> +<p>Every word John Brooks uttered pierced Daisy’s heart like +an arrow. She uttered a little, sharp cry, but no one heard +her. She fairly held her breath with intense interest. Then +she heard the detective tell them the story of Rex Lyon’s +marriage with her, and he had come to Whitestone Hall to +stop the ceremony about to be performed.</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst scarcely heeded his words. He had risen to +his feet with a great, glad cry, and pushed aside the silken +curtains that led to the study. As he did so he came face to +face with Daisy Brooks, standing motionless, like a statue, before +him. Then she fell, with a low, gasping cry, senseless at +Basil Hurlhurst’s feet.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXVIII' id='CHAPTER_XXXVIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>Pluma Hurlhurst received her father’s summons with no +little surprise. “What can that foolish old man want, I +wonder?” she soliloquized, clasping the diamond-studded +bracelets on her perfect arms. “I shall be heartily glad +when I am Rex Lyon’s wife. I shall soon tell him, then, in +pretty plain words, I am not at his beck and call any longer. +Come to him instantly, indeed! I shall certainly do no such +thing,” she muttered.</p> +<p>“Did you speak, mademoiselle?” asked the maid.</p> +<p>“No,” replied Pluma, glancing at the little jeweled watch +that glittered in its snow-white velvet case. She took it up +with a caressing movement. “How foolish I was to work +myself up into such a fury of excitement, when Rex sent for +me to present me with the jewels!” she laughed, softly, laying +down the watch, and taking up an exquisite jeweled necklace, +admired the purity and beauty of the soft, white, gleaming +stones.</p> +<p>The turret-bell had pealed the hour of eight; she had yet +half an hour.</p> +<p>She never could tell what impulse prompted her to clasp the +shining gems around her white throat, even before she had +removed her dressing-robe.</p> +<p>She leaned back dreamily in her cushioned chair, watching +the effect in the mirror opposite.</p> +<p>Steadfastly she gazed at the wondrous loveliness of the +picture she made, the dark, lustrous eyes, gleaming with unwonted +brilliancy, with their jetty fringe; the rich, red lips, +and glowing cheeks.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></div> +<p>“There are few such faces in the world,” she told herself +triumphantly.</p> +<p>Those were the happiest moments proud, peerless Pluma +Hurlhurst was ever to know––“before the hour should wane +the fruition of all her hopes would be attained.”</p> +<p>No feeling of remorse stole over her to imbitter the sweets +of her triumphant thoughts.</p> +<p>She had lived in a world of her own, planning and scheming, +wasting her youth, her beauty, and her genius, to accomplish +the one great ultimatum––winning Rex Lyon’s love.</p> +<p>She took from her bosom a tiny vial, containing a few white, +flaky crystals. “I shall not need this now,” she told herself. +“If Lester Stanwick had intended to interfere he would have +done so ere this; he has left me to myself, realizing his threats +were all in vain; yet I have been sore afraid. Rex will never +know that I lied and schemed to win his love, or that I +planned the removal of Daisy Brooks from his path so cleverly; +he will never know that I have deceived him, or the +wretched story of my folly and passionate, perilous love. I +could not have borne the shame and the exposure; there +would have been but one escape”––quite unconsciously she slid +the vial into the pocket of her silken robe––“I have lived a +coward’s life; I should have died a coward’s death.”</p> +<p>“It is time to commence arranging your toilet, mademoiselle,” +said the maid, approaching her softly with the white +glimmering satin robe, and fleecy veil over her arm. “My +fingers are deft, but you have not one moment to spare.”</p> +<p>Pluma waved her off with an imperious gesture.</p> +<p>“Not yet,” she said. “I suppose I might as well go down +first as last to see what in the world he wants with me; he +should have come to me if he had wished to see me so very +particularly;” and the dutiful daughter, throwing the train of +her dress carelessly over her arm, walked swiftly through the +brilliantly lighted corridor toward Basil Hurlhurst’s study. +She turned the knob and entered. The room was apparently +deserted. “Not here!” she muttered, with surprise. “Well, +my dear, capricious father, I shall go straight back to my +apartments. You shall come to me hereafter.” As she +turned to retrace her steps a hand was laid upon her shoulder, +and a woman’s voice whispered close to her ear:</p> +<p>“I was almost afraid I should miss you––fate is kind.”</p> +<p>Pluma Hurlhurst recoiled from the touch, fairly holding +her breath, speechless with fury and astonishment.</p> +<p>“You insolent creature!” she cried. “I wonder at your +boldness in forcing your presence upon me. Did I not have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +you thrust from the house an hour ago, with the full understanding +I would not see you, no matter who you were or +whom you wanted.”</p> +<p>“I was not at the door an hour ago,” replied the woman, +coolly; “it must have been some one else. I have been here––to +Whitestone Hall––several times before, but you have always +eluded me. You shall not do so to-night. You shall +listen to what I have come to say to you.”</p> +<p>For once in her life the haughty, willful heiress was completely +taken aback, and she sunk into the arm-chair so lately +occupied by Basil Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>“I shall ring for the servants, and have you thrown from +the house; such impudence is unheard of, you miserable +creature!”</p> +<p>She made a movement toward the bell-rope, but the woman +hastily thrust her back into her seat, crossed over, turned the +key in the lock, and hastily removed it. Basil Hurlhurst and +John Brooks were about to rush to her assistance, but the detective +suddenly thrust them back, holding up his hand +warningly.</p> +<p>“Not yet,” he whispered; “we will wait until we know +what this strange affair means. I shall request you both to +remain perfectly quiet until by word or signal I advise you to +act differently.”</p> +<p>And, breathless with interest, the three, divided only by the +silken hanging curtains, awaited eagerly further developments +of the strange scene being enacted before them.</p> +<p>Pluma’s eyes flashed like ebony fires, and unrestrained +passion was written on every feature of her face, as the woman +took her position directly in front of her with folded arms, +and dark eyes gleaming quite as strangely as her own. Pluma, +through sheer astonishment at her peculiar, deliberate manner, +was hushed into strange expectancy.</p> +<p>For some moments the woman gazed into her face, coolly––deliberately––her +eyes fastening themselves on the diamond +necklace which clasped her throat, quivering with a thousand +gleaming lights.</p> +<p>“You are well cared for,” she said, with a harsh, grating +laugh, that vibrated strangely on the girl’s ear. “You have +the good things of life, while I have only the hardships. I am +a fool to endure it. I have come to you to-night to help me––and +you must do it.”</p> +<p>“Put the key in that door instantly, or I shall cry out for +assistance. I have heard of insolence of beggars, but certainly +this is beyond all imagination. How dare you force your obnoxious +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +presence upon me? I will not listen to another word; +you shall suffer for this outrage, woman! Open the door instantly, +I say.”</p> +<p>She did not proceed any further in her breathless defiance +of retort; the woman coolly interrupted her with that strange, +grating laugh again, as she answered, authoritatively:</p> +<p>“I shall not play at cross-purposes with you any longer; it +is plainly evident there is little affection lost between us. You +will do exactly as I say, Pluma; you may spare yourself a +great deal that may be unpleasant––if you not only listen but +quietly obey me. Otherwise––”</p> +<p>Pluma sprung wildly to her feet.</p> +<p>“Obey you! obey you!”</p> +<p>She would have screamed the words in her ungovernable +rage, had not a look from this woman’s eyes, who used her +name with such ill-bred familiarity, actually frightened her.</p> +<p>“Be sensible and listen to what I intend you shall hear, +and, as I said and repeat, obey. You have made a slight mistake +in defying me, young lady. I hoped and intended to be +your friend and adviser; but since you have taken it into your +head to show such an aversion to me, it will be so much the +worse for you, for I fully intend you shall act hereafter under +my instructions; it has spoiled you allowing you to hold the +reins in your own hands unchecked.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you horrible creature! I shall have you arrested +and––”</p> +<p>The woman interrupted her gasping, vindictive words again, +more imperiously than before.</p> +<p>“Hush! not another word; you will not tell any one a +syllable of what has passed in this room.”</p> +<p>“Do you dare threaten me in my own house,” cried Pluma, +fairly beside herself with passion. “I begin to believe you are +not aware to whom you are speaking. You shall not force me +to listen. I shall raise the window and cry out to the guests +below.”</p> +<p>“Very well, then. I find I am compelled to tell you something +I never intended you should know––something that, unless +I am greatly mistaken in my estimate of you, will change +your high and mighty notions altogether.”</p> +<p>The woman was bending so near her, her breath almost +scorched her cheek.</p> +<p>“I want money,” she said, her thin lips quivering in an +evil smile, “and it is but right that you should supply me +with it. Look at the diamonds, representing a fortune, gleaming +on your throat, while I am lacking the necessaries of life.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></div> +<p>“What is that to me?” cried Pluma, scornfully. “Allow +me to pass from the room, and I will send my maid back to +you with a twenty-dollar note. My moments are precious; do +not detain me.”</p> +<p>The woman laughed contemptuously.</p> +<p>“Twenty dollars, indeed!” she sneered, mockingly. +“Twenty thousand will not answer my purpose. From this +time forth I intend to live as befits a lady. I want that necklace +you are wearing, as security that you will produce the required +sum for me before to-morrow night.”</p> +<p>The coarse proposal amazed Pluma.</p> +<p>“I thought Whitestone Hall especially guarded against +thieves,” she said, steadily. “You seem to be a desperate +woman; but I, Pluma Hurlhurst, do not fear you. We will +pass over the remarks you have just uttered as simply beyond +discussion.”</p> +<p>With a swift, gliding motion she attempted to reach the +bell-rope. Again the woman intercepted her.</p> +<p>“Arouse the household if you dare!” hissed the woman, +tightening her hold upon the white arm upon which the jewels +flashed and quivered. “If Basil Hurlhurst knew what I know +you would be driven from this house before an hour had +passed.”</p> +<p>“I––I––do not know what you mean,” gasped Pluma, her +great courage and fortitude sinking before this woman’s fearlessness +and defiant authority.</p> +<p>“No, you don’t know what I mean; and little you thank +me for carrying the treacherous secret since almost the hour of +your birth. It is time for you to know the truth at last. You +are not the heiress of Whitestone Hall––you are not Basil +Hurlhurst’s child!”</p> +<p>Pluma’s face grew deathly white; a strange mist seemed +gathering before her.</p> +<p>“I can not––seem––to––grasp––what you mean, or who you +are to terrify me so.”</p> +<p>A mocking smile played about the woman’s lips as she replied, +in a slow, even, distinct voice:</p> +<p>“I am your mother, Pluma!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXIX' id='CHAPTER_XXXIX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> +</div> +<p>At the self-same moment that the scene just described was +being enacted in the study Rex Lyon was pacing to and fro in +his room, waiting for the summons of Pluma to join the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +bridal-party in the corridor and adjourn to the parlors below, +where the guests and the minister awaited them.</p> +<p>He walked toward the window and drew aside the heavy +curtains. The storm was beating against the window-pane as +he leaned his feverish face against the cool glass, gazing out +into the impenetrable darkness without.</p> +<p>Try as he would to feel reconciled to his marriage he could +not do it. How could he promise at the altar to love, honor, +and cherish the wife whom he was about to wed?</p> +<p>He might honor and cherish her, but love her he could not, +no matter for all the promises he might make. The power of +loving was directed from Heaven above––it was not for mortals +to accept or reject at will.</p> +<p>His heart seemed to cling with a strange restlessness to +Daisy, the fair little child-bride, whom he had loved so passionately––his +first and only love, sweet little Daisy!</p> +<p>From the breast-pocket of his coat he took the cluster of +daisies he had gone through the storm on his wedding-night +to gather. He was waiting until the monument should arrive +before he could gather courage to tell Pluma the sorrowful +story of his love-dream.</p> +<p>All at once he remembered the letter a stranger had handed +him outside of the entrance gate. He had not thought much +about the matter until now. Mechanically he picked it up +from the mantel, where he had tossed it upon entering the +room, glancing carelessly at the superscription. His countenance +changed when he saw it; his lips trembled, and a hard, +bitter light crept into his brown eyes. He remembered the +chirography but too well.</p> +<p>“From Stanwick!” he cried, leaning heavily against the +mantel.</p> +<p>Rex read the letter through with a burning flush on his +face, which grew white as with the pallor of death as he read; +a dark mist was before his eyes, the sound of surging waters in +his ears.</p> +<p>“<span class='smcap'>Old College Chum,</span>”––it began,––“For the sake of +those happy hours of our school-days, you will please favor me +by reading what I have written to the end.</p> +<p>“If you love Pluma Hurlhurst better than your sense of +honor this letter is of no avail. I can not see you drifting on +to ruin without longing to save you. You have been cleverly +caught in the net the scheming heiress has set for you. It is +certainly evident she loves you with a love which is certainly a +perilous one. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +There is not much safety in the fierce, passionate love of +a desperate, jealous woman. You will pardon me for believing +at one time your heart was elsewhere. You will wonder +why I refer to that; it will surprise you to learn, that one +subject forms the basis of this letter. I refer to little Daisy +Brooks.</p> +<p>“You remember the night you saw little Daisy home, burning +with indignation at the cut direct––which Pluma had subjected +the pretty little fairy to? I simply recall that fact, as +upon that event hangs the terrible sequel which I free my conscience +by unfolding. You had scarcely left the Hall ere Pluma +called me to her side.</p> +<p>“‘Do not leave me, Lester,’ she said; ‘I want to see you; +remain until after all the guests have left.’</p> +<p>“I did so. You have read the lines:</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“‘Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,<br /> +Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned’?</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“They were too truly exemplified in the case of Pluma +Hurlhurst when she found you preferred little golden-haired +Daisy Brooks to her own peerless self. ‘What shall I do, +Lester,’ she cried, ‘to strike his heart? What shall I do to +humble his mighty pride as he has humbled mine?’ Heaven +knows, old boy, I am ashamed to admit the shameful truth. +I rather enjoyed the situation of affairs. ‘My love is turned +to hate!’ she cried, vehemently. ‘I must strike him through +his love for that little pink-and-white baby-faced creature he +is so madly infatuated with. Remove her from his path, +Lester,’ she cried, ‘and I shall make it worth your while. +You asked me once if I would marry you. I answer <i>now</i>: +remove that girl from his path, by fair means or foul, and I +give you my hand as the reward, I, the heiress of Whitestone +Hall.’</p> +<p>“She knew the temptation was dazzling. For long hours +we talked the matter over. She was to furnish money to send +the girl to school, from which I was shortly to abduct her. +She little cared what happened the little fair-haired creature. +Before I had time to carry out the design fate drifted her into +my hands. I rescued her, at the risk of my own life, from a +watery grave. I gave out she was my wife, that the affair +might reach your ears, and you would believe the child willfully +eloped with me. I swear to you no impure thought +ever crossed that child’s brain. I gave her a very satisfactory +explanation as to why I had started so false a report. In her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +innocence––it seemed plausible––she did not contradict my +words.</p> +<p>“Then you came upon the scene, charging her with the report +and demanding to know the truth.</p> +<p>“At that moment she saw the affair in its true light. +Heaven knows she was as pure as a spotless lily; but appearances +were sadly against the child, simply because she had not +contradicted the report that I had circulated––that she was +my wife. Her lips were dumb at the mere suspicion you +hurled against her, and she could not plead with you for very +horror and amazement.</p> +<p>“When you left her she was stricken with a fever that was +said to have cost her her life. She disappeared from sight, +and it was said she had thrown herself into the pit.</p> +<p>“I give you this last and final statement in all truth. I +was haunted day and night by her sad, pitiful face; it almost +drove me mad with remorse, and to ease my mind I had the +shaft searched a week ago, and learned the startling fact––it +revealed no trace of her ever having been there.</p> +<p>“The shaft does not contain the remains of Daisy Brooks, +and I solemnly affirm (although I have no clew to substantiate +the belief) that Daisy Brooks is not dead, but living, and +Pluma Hurlhurst’s soul is not dyed with the blood which she +would not have hesitated to shed to remove an innocent rival +from her path. I do not hold myself guiltless, still the planner +of a crime is far more guilty than the tool who does the work +in hope of reward.</p> +<p>“The heiress of Whitestone Hall has played me false, take +to your heart your fair, blushing bride, but remember hers is +a perilous love.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The letter contained much more, explaining each incident +in detail, but Rex had caught at one hope, as a drowning man +catches at a straw.</p> +<p>“Merciful Heaven!” he cried, his heart beating loud and +fast. “Was it not a cruel jest to frighten him on his wedding-eve? +Daisy alive! Oh, just Heaven, if it could only be +true!” He drew his breath, with a long, quivering sigh, at +the bare possibility. “Little Daisy was as pure in thought, +word and deed as an angel. God pity me!” he cried. “Have +patience with me for my harshness toward my little love. I +did not give my little love even the chance of explaining the +situation,” he groaned. Then his thoughts went back to +Pluma.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></div> +<p>He could not doubt the truth of the statement Stanwick +offered, and the absolute proofs of its sincerity. He could not +curse her for her horrible deceit, because his mother had loved +her so, and it was done through her blinding, passionate love +for him; and he buried his face in his hands, and wept bitterly. +It was all clear as noonday to him now why Daisy had not kept +the tryst under the magnolia-tree, and the cottage was empty. +She must certainly have attempted to make her escape from +the school in which they placed her to come back to his arms.</p> +<p>“Oh, dupe that I have been!” he moaned. “Oh, my sweet +little innocent darling!” he cried. “I dare not hope Heaven +has spared you to me!”</p> +<p>Now he understood why he had felt such a terrible aversion +to Pluma all along. She had separated him from his beautiful, +golden-haired child-bride.</p> +<p>His eyes rested on the certificate which bore Pluma’s name, +also his own. He tore it into a thousand shreds.</p> +<p>“It is all over between us now,” he cried. “Even if Daisy +were dead, I could never take the viper to my bosom that has +dealt me such a death-stinging blow. If living, I shall search +the world over till I find her; if dead, I shall consecrate my +life to the memory of my darling, my pure, little, injured <i>only</i> +love.”</p> +<p>He heard a low rap at the door. The servant never forgot +the young man’s haggard, hopeless face as he delivered Basil +Hurlhurst’s message.</p> +<p>“Ah, it is better so,” cried Rex to himself, vehemently, as +the man silently and wonderingly closed the door. “I will go +to him at once, and tell him I shall never marry his daughter. +Heaven help me! I will tell him all.”</p> +<p>Hastily catching up the letter, Rex walked, with a firm, +quick tread, toward the study, in which the strangest tragedy +which was ever enacted was about to transpire.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“I am your mother, Pluma,” repeated the woman, slowly. +“Look into my face, and you will see every lineament of your +own mirrored there. But for me you would never have enjoyed +the luxuries of Whitestone Hall, and this is the way you +repay me! Is there no natural instinct in your heart that tells +you you are standing in your mother’s presence?”</p> +<p>“Every instinct in my heart tells me you are a vile impostor, +woman. I wonder that you dare intimate such a thing. You +are certainly an escaped lunatic. My mother was lost at sea +long years ago.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span></div> +<p>“So every one believed. But my very presence here is proof +positive such was not the case.”</p> +<p>Pluma tried to speak, but no sound issued from her white +lips. The very tone of the woman’s voice carried positive conviction +with it. A dim realization was stealing over her that +this woman’s face, and the peculiar tone of her voice, were +strangely mixed up with her childhood dreams; and, try as she +would to scoff at the idea, it seemed to be gaining strength +with every moment.</p> +<p>“You do not believe me, I see,” pursued the woman, calmly. +“There is nothing but the stern facts that will satisfy +you. You shall have them. They are soon told: Years ago, +when I was young and fair as you are now, I lived at the home +of a quiet, well-to-do spinster, Taiza Burt. She had a nephew, +an honest, well-to-do young fellow, who worshiped me, much +to the chagrin of his aunt; and out of pique one day I married +him. I did not love the honest-hearted fellow, and I lived +with him but a few brief months. I hated him––yes, hated +him, for I had seen another––young, gay and handsome––whom +I might have won had it not been for the chains which +bound me. He was a handsome, debonair college fellow, as +rich as he was handsome. This was Basil Hurlhurst, the +planter’s only son and heir. Our meeting was romantic. I +had driven over to the village in which the college was situated, +on an errand for Taiza. Basil met me driving through +the park. He was young, reckless and impulsive. He loved +me, and the knowledge of his wealth dazzled me. I did not +tell him I was a wife, and there commenced my first sin. My +extreme youth and ignorance of the world must plead for me––my +husband or the world would never know of it. I listened +to his pleading, and married him––that is, we went through +the ceremony. He had perfect faith in its sincerity. I alone +knew the guilty truth. Yet enormous as was my crime, I had +but a dim realization of it.</p> +<p>“For one brief week I was dazzled with the wealth and +jewels he lavished upon me; but my conscience would not let +me rest when I thought of my honest-hearted husband, from +whom I had fled and whom I had so cruelly deceived.</p> +<p>“My love for Basil was short lived; I was too reckless to +care much for any one. My conscience bade me fly from him. +I gathered up what money and jewels I could, and fled. A +few months after you were born; and I swear to you, by the +proofs I can bring you, beyond all shadow of a doubt, you +were my lawful husband’s child, not Basil’s.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span></div> +<p>“Soon after this event a daring thought came to me. I +could present you, ere long, with myself, at Whitestone Hall. +Basil Hurlhurst would never know the deception practiced +upon him; and you, the child of humble parentage, should +enjoy and inherit his vast wealth. My bold plan was successful. +We had a stormy interview, and it never occurred to him +there could be the least deception––that I was not his lawful +wife, or you his child.</p> +<p>“I found Basil had learned to despise even more fiercely +than he had ever loved me.</p> +<p>“He took us abroad, refusing to speak or look upon my +face, even though he escorted us. In a fit of desperation I +threw myself into the sea, but I was rescued by another vessel. +A strong inclination seized me to again visit Whitestone Hall +and see what disposition he had made of you. Years had +passed; you were then a child of five years.</p> +<p>“One terrible stormy night––as bad a night as this one––I +made my way to the Hall. It was brilliantly lighted up, just +as it is to-night.</p> +<p>“I saw the gate was locked; and through the flashes of +lightning I saw a little girl sobbing wildly, flung face downward +in the grass, heedless of the storm.</p> +<p>“I knew you, and called you to me. I questioned you as +to why the house was lighted, and learned the truth. Basil +Hurlhurst had remarried; he had been abroad with his wife, +and to-night he was bringing home his young wife.</p> +<p>“My rage knew no bounds. I commanded you to bring +me the key of the gate. You obeyed. That night a little +golden-haired child was born at Whitestone Hall, and I knew +it would live to divide the honors and wealth of Whitestone +Hall with you––my child.</p> +<p>“The thought maddened me. I stole the child from its +mother’s arms, and fled. I expected to see the papers full of +the terrible deed, or to hear you had betrayed me, a stranger, +wanting the key of the gate.”</p> +<p>“My surprise knew no bounds when I found it was given +out the child had died, and was buried with its young mother. +I never understood why Basil Hurlhurst did not attempt to recover +his child.</p> +<p>“I took the child far from here, placing it in a basket on +the river brink, with a note pinned to it saying that I, the +mother, had sinned and had sought a watery grave beneath the +waves. I screened myself, and watched to see what would become +of the child, as I saw a man’s form approaching in the distance.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div> +<p>“I fairly caught my breath as he drew near. I saw it was +my own husband, whom I had so cruelly deserted years ago––your +father, Pluma, who never even knew or dreamed of your +existence.</p> +<p>“Carefully he lifted the basket and the sleeping babe. +How he came in that locality I do not know. I found, by +some strange freak of fate, he had taken the child home to his +aunt Taiza, and there the little one remained until the spinster +died.</p> +<p>“Again, a few years later, I determined to visit Whitestone +Hall, when a startling and unexpected surprise presented itself. +Since then I have believed in fate. All unconscious of the +strange manner in which these two men’s lives had crossed +each other, I found Basil Hurlhurst had engaged my own husband, +and your father, John Brooks, for his overseer.”</p> +<p>Pluma gave a terrible cry, but the woman did not heed her.</p> +<p>“I dared not betray my identity then, but fled quickly from +Whitestone Hall; for I knew, if all came to light, it would be +proved without a doubt you were not the heiress of Whitestone +Hall.</p> +<p>“I saw a young girl, blue-eyed and golden-haired, singing +like a lark in the fields. One glance at her face, and I knew +she was Basil Hurlhurst’s stolen child fate had brought directly +to her father’s home. I questioned her, and she answered +she had lived with Taiza Burt, but her name was Daisy +Brooks.”</p> +<p>“It is a lie––a base, ingenious lie!” shrieked Pluma. +“Daisy Brooks the heiress of Whitestone Hall! Even if it +were true,” she cried, exultingly, “she will never reign here, +the mistress of Whitestone Hall. She is dead.”</p> +<p>“Not exactly!” cried a ringing voice from the rear; and +before the two women could comprehend the situation, the detective +sprung through the silken curtains, placing his back +firmly against the door. “You have laid a deep scheme, with +a cruel vengeance; but your own weapons are turned against +you. Bring your daughter forward, Mr. Hurlhurst. Your +presence is also needed, Mr. Brooks,” he called.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XL' id='CHAPTER_XL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XL.</h2> +</div> +<p>Not a muscle of Pluma Hurlhurst’s face quivered, but the +woman uttered a low cry, shrinking close to her side.</p> +<p>“Save me, Pluma!” she gasped. “I did it for your sake!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></div> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst slowly put back the curtain, and stepped +into the room, clasping his long-lost daughter to his breast. +Daisy’s arms were clinging round his neck, and her golden +head rested on his shoulder. She was sobbing hysterically, +John Brooks, deeply affected, following after.</p> +<p>Like a stag at bay, the woman’s courage seemed to return +to her, as she stood face to face after all those years with the +husband whom she had so cruelly deceived––and the proud-faced +man who stood beside him––whose life she had blighted +with the keenest and most cruel blow of all.</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst was the first to break the ominous silence.</p> +<p>“It is unnecessary to tell you we have heard all,” he said, +slowly. “I shall not seek redress for your double crime. +Leave this locality at once, or I may repent the leniency of my +decision. I hold you guiltless, Pluma,” he added, gently. +“You are not my child, yet I have not been wanting in +kindness toward you. I shall make every provision for your +future comfort with your father,” he said, indicating John +Brooks, who stood pale and trembling at his side.</p> +<p>“Pluma, my child,” cried John Brooks, brokenly, extending +his arms.</p> +<p>But the scornful laugh that fell from her lips froze the +blood in his veins.</p> +<p>“Your child!” she shrieked, mockingly; “do not dare call +me that again. What care I for your cotton fields, or for +Whitestone Hall?” she cried, proudly, drawing herself up to +her full height. “You have always hated me, Basil Hurlhurst,” +she cried, turning haughtily toward him. “This is +your triumph! Within the next hour I shall be Rex Lyon’s +wife.”</p> +<p>She repeated the words with a clear, ringing laugh, her +flaming eyes fairly scorching poor little Daisy’s pale, frightened +face.</p> +<p>“Do you hear me, Daisy Brooks!” she screamed. “You +loved Rex Lyon, and I have won him from you. You can +queen it over Whitestone Hall, but I shall not care. I shall +be queen of Rex’s heart and home! Mine is a glorious revenge!”</p> +<p>She stopped short for want of breath, and Basil Hurlhurst +interrupted her.</p> +<p>“I have to inform you you are quite mistaken there,” he +replied, calmly. “Mr. Rexford Lyon will not marry you to-night, +for he is already married to my little daughter Daisy.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +He produced the certificate as he spoke, laying it on the table. +“Rex thought her dead,” he continued, simply. “I have +sent for him to break the startling news of Daisy’s presence, +and I expect him here every moment.”</p> +<p>“Pluma,” cried Daisy, unclasping her arms from her +father’s neck, and swiftly crossing over to where her rival +stood, beautifully, proudly defiant, “forgive me for the pain +I have caused you unknowingly. I did not dream I was––an––an––heiress––or +that Mr. Hurlhurst was my father. I don’t +want you to go away, Pluma, from the luxury that has been +yours; stay and be my sister––share my home.”</p> +<p>“My little tender-hearted angel!” cried Basil Hurlhurst, +moved to tears.</p> +<p>John Brooks hid his face in his hands.</p> +<p>For a single instant the eyes of these two girls met––whose +lives had crossed each other so strangely––Daisy’s blue eyes +soft, tender and appealing, Pluma’s hard, flashing, bitter +and scornful.</p> +<p>She drew herself up to her full height.</p> +<p>“Remain in your house?” she cried, haughtily, trembling +with rage. “You mistake me, girl: do you think I could see +you enjoying the home that I have believed to be mine––see +the man I love better than life itself lavish caresses upon you––kiss +your lips––and bear it calmly? Live the life of a pauper +when I have been led to believe I was an heiress! Better had +I never known wealth than be cast from luxury into the slums +of poverty,” she wailed out, sharply. “I shall not touch a +dollar of your money, Basil Hurlhurst. I despise you too +much. I have lived with the trappings of wealth around me––the +petted child of luxury––all in vain––all in vain.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst was struck with the terrible grandeur of the +picture she made, standing there in her magnificent, scornful +pride––a wealth of jewels flashing on her throat and breast +and twined in the long, sweeping hair that had become loosened +and swept in a dark, shining mass to her slender waist, her +flashing eyes far outshining the jewels upon which the softened +gas-light streamed. Not one gleam of remorse softened her +stony face in its cruel, wicked beauty. Her jeweled hand +suddenly crept to the pocket of her dress where she had placed +the vial.</p> +<p>“Open that door!” she commanded.</p> +<p>The key fell from her mother’s nerveless grasp. The detective +quietly picked it up, placed it in the lock, and opened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +the door. And just at that instant, Rex Lyon, with the letter +in his hand, reached it.</p> +<p>Pluma saw him first.</p> +<p>“Rex!” she cried, in a low, hoarse voice, staggering toward +him; but he recoiled from her, and she saw Stanwick’s letter +in his hands; and she knew in an instant all her treachery was +revealed; and without another word––pale as death––but with +head proudly erect, she swept with the dignity of a princess +from the scene of her bitter defeat, closely followed by her +cowering mother.</p> +<p>Rex did not seek to detain her; his eyes had suddenly fallen +upon the golden-haired little figure kneeling by Basil Hurlhurst’s +chair.</p> +<p>He reached her side at a single bound.</p> +<p>“Oh, Daisy, my darling, my darling!” he cried, snatching +her in his arms, and straining her to his breast, as he murmured +passionate, endearing words over her.</p> +<p>Suddenly he turned to Mr. Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>“I must explain––”</p> +<p>“That is quite unnecessary, Rex, my boy,” said Mr. Tudor, +stepping forward with tears in his eyes; “Mr. Hurlhurst +knows all.”</p> +<p>It never occurred to handsome, impulsive Rex to question +what Daisy was doing there. He only knew Heaven had restored +him his beautiful, idolized child-bride.</p> +<p>“You will forgive my harshness, won’t you, love?” he +pleaded. “I will devote my whole life to blot out the past. +Can you learn to love me, sweetheart, and forget the cloud +that drifted between us?”</p> +<p>A rosy flush suffused the beautiful flower-like face, as Daisy +shyly lifted her radiantly love-lighted blue eyes to his face +with a coy glance that fairly took his breath away for rapturous +ecstasy.</p> +<p>Daisy’s golden head nestled closer on his breast, and two little +soft, white arms, whose touch thrilled him through and through, +stole round his neck––that was all the answer she made him.</p> +<p>John Brooks had quietly withdrawn from the room; and +while Basil Hurlhurst with a proudly glowing face went down +among the waiting and expectant guests to unfold to them the +marvelous story, and explain why the marriage could not take +place, the detective briefly acquainted Rex with the wonderful +story.</p> +<p>“I sought and won you when you were simple little Daisy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +Brooks, and now that you are a wealthy heiress in your own +right, you must not love me less.”</p> +<p>Daisy glanced up into her handsome young husband’s face +as she whispered, softly:</p> +<p>“Nothing can ever change my love, Rex, unless it is to love +you more and more.”</p> +<p>And for answer Rex clasped the little fairy still closer in +his arms, kissing the rosy mouth over and over again, as he +laughingly replied he was more fortunate than most fellows, +being lover and husband all in one.</p> +<p>The announcement created an intense <i>furor</i> among the fluttering +maidens down in the spacious parlors. Nobody regretted +Pluma’s downfall, although Basil Hurlhurst carefully +kept that part of the narrative back.</p> +<p>“Oh, it is just like a romance,” cried Eve Glenn, rapturously; +“but still we must not be disappointed, girls; we must +have a wedding all the same. Rex and Daisy must be married +over again.”</p> +<p>Every one was on the tiptoe of expectancy to see the beautiful +little heroine of a double romance.</p> +<p>Eve Glenn, followed by Birdie, found her out at once in the +study.</p> +<p>“Oh, you darling!” cried Eve, laughing and crying in one +breath, as she hugged and kissed Daisy rapturously; “and +just to think you were married all the time, and to Rex, too; +above all other fellows in the world, he was just the one I had +picked out for you.”</p> +<p>Rex was loath to let Daisy leave him even for a moment. +Eve was firm.</p> +<p>“I shall take her to my room and convert her in no time at +all into a veritable Cinderella.”</p> +<p>“She is the pretty young girl that carried me from the stone +wall, and I have loved her so much ever since, even if I +couldn’t remember her name,” cried Birdie, clapping her +hands in the greatest glee.</p> +<p>In the din of the excitement, Pluma Hurlhurst shook the +dust of Whitestone Hall forever from her feet, muttering +maledictions at the happy occupants. She had taken good +care to secure all the valuables that she could lay her hands +on, which were quite a fortune in themselves, securing her +from want for life. She was never heard from more.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Eve Glenn took Daisy to her own room, and there the wonderful +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +transformation began. She dressed Daisy in her own +white satin dress, and twined deep crimson passion-roses in +the golden curls, clapping her hands––at Daisy’s wondrous +beauty––kissing her, and petting her by turns.</p> +<p>“There never was such a little fairy of a bride!” she cried, +exultantly leading Daisy to the mirror. “True, you haven’t +any diamonds, and I haven’t any to loan you; but who would +miss such trifles, gazing at such a bewitching, blushing face +and eyes bright as stars? Oh, won’t every one envy Rex, though!”</p> +<p>“Please don’t, Eve,” cried Daisy. “I’m so happy, and +you are trying to make me vain.”</p> +<p>A few moments later there was a great hush in the vast parlors +below, as Daisy entered the room, leaning tremblingly on +Rex’s arm, who looked as happy as a king, and Basil Hurlhurst, +looking fully ten years younger than was his wont, +walking proudly beside his long-lost daughter.</p> +<p>The storm had died away, and the moon broke through the +dark clouds, lighting the earth with a silvery radiance, as Rex +and Daisy took their places before the altar, where the ceremony +which made them man and wife was for the second time +performed.</p> +<p>Heaven’s light never fell on two such supremely happy mortals +as were Rex and his bonny blushing bride.</p> +<p>Outside of Whitestone Hall a motley throng was gathering +with the rapidity of lightning––the story had gone from lip to +lip––the wonderful story of the long-lost heiress and the double +romance.</p> +<p>Cheer after cheer rent the air, and telegraph wires were +busy with the startling revelations.</p> +<p>The throng around the Hall pressed forward to catch a +glimpse of the pretty little bride. Young girls laughed and +cried for very joy. Mothers, fathers, and sweethearts fervently +cried: “God bless her!”</p> +<p>All night long the bells rang from the church belfries, bonfires +were lighted on all the surrounding hills. A telegram was +sent to a Baltimore marble firm countermanding a certain order.</p> +<p>All night long the young people danced to the chime of +merry music, and all night long the joy-bells pealed from the +turrets of Whitestone Hall, and they seemed to echo the +chorus of the people. “God bless sweet little Daisy Lyon, the +long-lost heiress of Whitestone Hall!”</p> +<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em'>THE END</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad1.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad2.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad3.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad4.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad5.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad6.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad7.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad8.jpg' /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30137 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30137-h/images/daisy-cvr.jpg b/30137-h/images/daisy-cvr.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b9eab8 --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-h/images/daisy-cvr.jpg diff --git a/30137-h/images/illus-ad1.jpg b/30137-h/images/illus-ad1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc0fa4a --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-h/images/illus-ad1.jpg diff --git a/30137-h/images/illus-ad2.jpg b/30137-h/images/illus-ad2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b2e7e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-h/images/illus-ad2.jpg diff --git a/30137-h/images/illus-ad3.jpg b/30137-h/images/illus-ad3.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff26b40 --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-h/images/illus-ad3.jpg diff --git a/30137-h/images/illus-ad4.jpg b/30137-h/images/illus-ad4.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1fc9fac --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-h/images/illus-ad4.jpg diff --git a/30137-h/images/illus-ad5.jpg b/30137-h/images/illus-ad5.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61d84be --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-h/images/illus-ad5.jpg diff --git a/30137-h/images/illus-ad6.jpg b/30137-h/images/illus-ad6.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8f3023 --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-h/images/illus-ad6.jpg diff --git a/30137-h/images/illus-ad7.jpg b/30137-h/images/illus-ad7.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a75acdf --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-h/images/illus-ad7.jpg diff --git a/30137-h/images/illus-ad8.jpg b/30137-h/images/illus-ad8.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8cb90e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/30137-h/images/illus-ad8.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef40795 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #30137 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30137) diff --git a/old/30137-8.txt b/old/30137-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..82b0554 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/30137-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11096 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Daisy Brooks, by Laura Jean Libbey + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Daisy Brooks + A Perilous Love + + +Author: Laura Jean Libbey + + + +Release Date: September 30, 2009 [eBook #30137] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY BROOKS*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +DAISY BROOKS; + +Or, + +A Perilous Love. + +by + +LAURA JEAN LIBBEY, + +Author of + +"Parted on Her Bridal Tour," or "Miss Middleton's Lover," +"When His Love Grew Cold," "He Loved, But Was Lured Away," +"When Lovely Maiden Stoops to Folly," "The Crime of Hallow E'en," +"Lovers Once, But Strangers Now," Etc., Etc. + + + + + + + +Copyright 1883, by George Munro. +Copyright 1911, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company. +Dramatic Rights Reserved by Laura Jean Libbey-Stillwell. + +New York: +J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company, +57 Rose Street. + + + + +DAISY BROOKS. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +A warm day in the southern part of West Virginia was fast drawing to a +close; the heat during the day had been almost intolerable under the +rays of the piercing sun, and the night was coming on in sullen +sultriness. No breath of cooling air stirred the leafy branches of the +trees; the stillness was broken only by the chirping of the crickets, +and the fire-flies twinkled for a moment, and were then lost to sight +in the long grasses. + +On one of the most prosperous plantations in that section of the +country there was a great stir of excitement; the master, Basil +Hurlhurst, was momentarily expected home with his bride. The negroes +in their best attire were scattered in anxious groups here and there, +watching eagerly for the first approach of their master's carriage on +the white pebbled road. + +The curtains of Whitestone Hall were looped back, and a cheerful flood +of light shone out on the waving cotton fields that stretched out as +far as the eye could reach, like a field of snow. The last touches had +been given to the pillars of roses that filled every available nook +and corner, making the summer air redolent with their odorous +perfumes. Mrs. Corliss, who had maintained the position of housekeeper +for a score of years or more, stood at the window twisting the +telegram she held in her hand with ill-concealed impatience. The +announcement of this home-coming had been as unexpected as the news of +his marriage had been quite a year before. + +"Let there be no guests assembled--my reasons will be made apparent to +you later on," so read the telegram, which puzzled the housekeeper +more than she cared to admit to the inquisitive maid, who stood near +her, curiously watching her thoughtful face. + +"'Pears to me it will rain afore they get here, Hagar," she said, +nervously, and, as if in confirmation of her words, a few rain-drops +splashed against the window-pane. + +Both stood gazing intently out into the darkness. The storm had now +commenced in earnest. The great trees bent to and fro like reeds +before the wind; the lightning flashed, and the terrific crash of +roaring thunder mingled with the torrent of rain that beat furiously +against the casement. It seemed as if the very flood-gates of heaven +were flung open wide on this memorable night of the master's return. + +"It is a fearful night. Ah! happy is the bride upon whose home-coming +the sunlight falls," muttered Mrs. Corliss under her breath. + +Hagar had caught the low-spoken words, and in a voice that sounded +strange and weird like a warning, she answered: + +"Yes, and unhappy is the bride upon whose home-coming rain-drops +fall." + +How little they knew, as they stood there, of the terrible tragedy--the +cruelest ever enacted--those grim, silent walls of Whitestone Hall +were soon to witness, in fulfillment of the strange prophecy. Hagar, +the maid, had scarcely ceased speaking ere the door was flung violently +open, and a child of some five summers rushed into the room, her face +livid with passion, and her dark, gleaming eyes shining like baneful +stars, before which the two women involuntarily quailed. + +"What is this I hear?" she cried, with wild energy, glancing fiercely +from the one to the other. "Is it true what they tell me--my father is +bringing home his bride?" + +"Pluma, my child," remonstrated Mrs. Corliss, feebly, "I--" + +"Don't Pluma me!" retorted the child, clutching the deep crimson +passion-roses from a vase at her side, and trampling them ruthlessly +beneath her feet. "Answer me at once, I say--has he _dared_ do it?" + +"P-l-u-m-a!" Mrs. Corliss advances toward her, but the child turns her +darkly beautiful, willful face toward her with an imperious gesture. + +"Do not come a step nearer," cried the child, bitterly, "or I shall +fling myself from the window down on to the rocks below. I shall never +welcome my father's wife here; and mark me, both of you, I hate her!" +she cried, vehemently. "She shall rue the day that she was born!" + +Mrs. Corliss knew but too well the child would keep her word. No +power, save God, could stay the turbulent current of the ungovernable +self-will which would drag her on to her doom. No human being could +hold in subjection the fierce, untamed will of the beautiful, youthful +tyrant. + +There had been strange rumors of the unhappiness of Basil Hurlhurst's +former marriage. No one remembered having seen her but once, quite +five years before. A beautiful woman with a little babe had suddenly +appeared at Whitestone Hall, announcing herself as Basil Hurlhurst's +wife. There had been a fierce, stormy interview, and on that very +night Basil Hurlhurst took his wife and child abroad; those who had +once seen the dark, glorious, scornful beauty of the woman's face +never forgot it. Two years later the master had returned alone with +the little child, heavily draped in widower's weeds. + +The master of Whitestone Hall was young; those who knew his story were +not surprised that he should marry--he could not go through life +alone; still they felt a nameless pity for the young wife who was to +be brought to the home in which dwelt the child of his former wife. + +There would be bitter war to the end between them. No one could tell +on which side the scales of mercy and justice would be balanced. + +At that instant, through the raging of the fierce elements, the sound +of carriage wheels smote upon their ears as the vehicle dashed rapidly +up the long avenue to the porch; while, in another instant, the young +master, half carrying the slight, delicate figure that clung timidly +to his arm, hurriedly entered the spacious parlor. There was a short +consultation with the housekeeper, and Basil Hurlhurst, tenderly +lifting the slight burden in his strong, powerful arms, quickly bore +his wife to the beautiful apartments that had been prepared for her. + +In the excitement of the moment Pluma was quite forgotten; for an +instant only she glanced bitterly at the sweet, fair face resting +against her father's shoulder, framed in a mass of golden hair. The +child clinched her small hands until she almost cried aloud with the +intense pain, never once deigning a glance at her father's face. In +that one instant the evil seeds of a lifetime were sown strong as life +and more bitter than death. + +Turning hastily aside she sprung hurriedly down the long corridor, and +out into the darkness and the storm, never stopping to gain breath +until she had quite reached the huge ponderous gate that shut in the +garden from the dense thicket that skirted the southern portion of the +plantation. She laughed a hard, mocking laugh that sounded unnatural +from such childish lips, as she saw a white hand hurriedly loop back +the silken curtains of her father's window, and saw him bend tenderly +over the golden-haired figure in the arm-chair. Suddenly the sound of +her own name fell upon her ear. + +"Pluma," whispered a low, cautious voice; and in the quick flashes of +lightning she saw a white, haggard woman's face pressed close against +the grating, and two white hands were steadily forcing the rusty lock. +There was no fear in the fiery, rebellious heart of the dauntless +child. + +"Go away, you miserable beggar-woman," she cried, "or I shall set the +hounds on you at once. Do you hear me, I say?" + +"Who are you?" questioned the woman, in the same low, guarded voice. + +The child threw her head back proudly, her voice rising shrilly above +the wild warring of the elements, as she answered: + +"Know, then, I am Pluma, the heiress of Whitestone Hall." + +The child formed a strange picture--her dark, wild face, so strangely +like the mysterious woman's own, standing vividly out against the +crimson lightning flashes, her dark curls blown about the gypsy-like +face, the red lips curling scornfully, her dark eyes gleaming. + +"Pluma," called the woman, softly, "come here." + +"How dare _you_, a beggar-woman, call me!" cried the child, +furiously. + +"Pluma--come--here--instantly!" + +There was a subtle something in the stranger's voice that throbbed +through the child's pulses like leaping fire--a strange, mysterious +influence that bound her, heart and soul, like the mesmeric influence +a serpent exerts over a fascinated dove. Slowly, hesitatingly, this +child, whose fiery will had never bowed before human power, came +timidly forward, step by step, close to the iron gate against which +the woman's face was pressed. She stretched out her hand, and it +rested for a moment on the child's dark curls. + +"Pluma, the gate is locked," she said. "Do you know where the keys +are?" + +"No," answered the child. + +"They used to hang behind the pantry door--a great bunch of them. +Don't they hang there now?" + +"Ye--es." + +"I thought so," muttered the woman, triumphantly. "Now, listen, Pluma; +I want you to do exactly as I bid you. I want you to go quickly and +quietly, and bring me the longest and thinnest one. You are not to +breathe one word of this to any living soul. Do you understand, +Pluma--I command you to do it." + +"Yes," answered the child, dubiously. + +"Stay!" she called, as the child was about to turn from her. "Why is +the house lighted up to-night?" + +Again the reckless spirit of the child flashed forth. + +"My father has brought home his bride," she said. "Don't you see him +bending over her, toward the third window yonder?" + +The woman's eyes quickly followed in the direction indicated. + +Was it a curse the woman muttered as she watched the fair, golden-haired +young girl-wife's head resting against Basil Hurlhurst's breast, his +arms clasped lovingly about her? + +"Go, Pluma!" she commanded, bitterly. + +Quickly and cautiously the child sped on her fatal errand through the +storm and the darkness. A moment later she had returned with the key +which was to unlock a world of misery to so many lives. + +"Promise me, Pluma, heiress of Whitestone Hall, never to tell what you +have done or seen or heard to-night. You must never dare breathe it +while you live. Say you will never tell, Pluma." + +"No," cried the child, "I shall never tell. They might kill me, but I +would never tell them." + +The next moment she was alone. Stunned and bewildered, she turned her +face slowly toward the house. The storm did not abate in its fury; +night-birds flapped their wings through the storm overhead; owls +shrieked in the distance from the swaying tree-tops; yet the child +walked slowly home, knowing no fear. In the house lights were moving +to and fro, while servants, with bated breath and light footfalls, +hurried through the long corridors toward her father's room. No one +seemed to notice Pluma, in her dripping robe, creeping slowly along by +their side toward her own little chamber. + +It was quite midnight when her father sent for her. Pluma suffered him +to kiss her, giving back no answering caress. + +"I have brought some one else to you, my darling," he said. "See, +Pluma--a new mamma! And see who else--a wee, dimpled little sister, +with golden hair like mamma's, and great blue eyes. Little Evalia is +your sister, dear. Pluma must love her new mamma and sister for papa's +sake." + +The dark frown on the child's face never relaxed, and, with an +impatient gesture, her father ordered her taken at once from the +room. + +Suddenly the great bells of Whitestone Hall ceased pealing for the +joyous birth of Basil Hurlhurst's daughter, and bitter cries of a +strong man in mortal anguish rent the air. No one had noticed how or +when the sweet, golden-haired young wife had died. With a smile on her +lips, she was dead, with her tiny little darling pressed close to her +pulseless heart. + +But sorrow even as pitiful as death but rarely travels singly. Dear +Heaven! how could they tell the broken-hearted man, who wept in such +agony beside the wife he had loved so well, of another mighty sorrow +that had fallen upon him? Who was there that could break the news to +him? The tiny, fair-haired infant had been stolen from their midst. +They would have thanked God if it had been lying cold in death upon +its mother's bosom. + +Slowly throughout the long night--that terrible night that was never +to be forgotten--the solemn bells pealed forth from the turrets of +Whitestone Hall, echoing in their sound: "Unhappy is the bride the +rain falls on." Most truly had been the fulfillment of the fearful +prophecy! + +"Merciful God!" cried Mrs. Corliss, "how shall I break the news to my +master? The sweet little babe is gone!" + +For answer Hagar bent quickly over her, and breathed a few words in +her ear that caused her to cry out in horror and amaze. + +"No one will ever know," whispered Hagar; "it is the wisest course. +The truth will lie buried in our own hearts, and die with us." + + * * * * * + +Six weeks from the night his golden-haired wife had died Basil Hurlhurst +awoke to consciousness from the ravages of brain-fever--awoke to a life +not worth the living. Quickly Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was +sent for, who soon entered the room, leaning upon Hagar's arm. + +"My wife is--" He could not say more. + +"Buried, sir, beneath yonder willow." + +"And the babe?" he cried, eagerly. "Dead," answered Hagar, softly. +"Both are buried in one grave." + +Basil Hurlhurst turned his face to the wall, with a bitter groan. + +Heaven forgive them--the seeds of the bitterest of tragedies were +irrevocably sown. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +One bright May morning some sixteen years later, the golden sunshine +was just putting forth its first crimson rays, lighting up the +ivy-grown turrets of Whitestone Hall, and shining upon a little white +cottage nestling in a bower of green leaves far to the right of it, +where dwelt John Brooks, the overseer of the Hurlhurst plantation. + +For sixteen years the grand old house had remained closed--the +plantation being placed in charge of a careful overseer. Once again +Whitestone Hall was thrown open to welcome the master, Basil +Hurlhurst, who had returned from abroad, bringing with him his +beautiful daughter and a party of friends. + +The interior of the little cottage was astir with bustling activity. + +It was five o'clock; the chimes had played the hour; the laborers were +going to the fields, and the dairy-maids were beginning their work. + +In the door-way of the cottage stood a tall, angular woman, shading +her flushed and heated face from the sun's rays with her hand. + +"Daisy, Daisy!" she calls, in a harsh, rasping voice, "where are you, +you good-for-nothing lazy girl? Come into the house directly, I say." +Her voice died away over the white stretches of waving cotton, but no +Daisy came. "Here's a pretty go," she cried, turning into the room +where her brother sat calmly finishing his morning meal, "a pretty go, +indeed! I promised Miss Pluma those white mulls should be sent over to +her the first thing in the morning. She will be in a towering rage, +and no wonder, and like enough you'll lose your place, John Brooks, +and 'twill serve you right, too, for encouraging that lazy girl in her +idleness." + +"Don't be too hard on little Daisy, Septima," answered John Brooks, +timidly, reaching for his hat. "She will have the dresses at the Hall +in good time, I'll warrant." + +"Too hard, indeed; that's just like you men; no feeling for your poor, +overworked sister, so long as that girl has an easy life of it. It was +a sorry day for _me_ when your aunt Taiza died, leaving this girl to +our care." + +A deep flush mantled John Brooks' face, but he made no retort, while +Septima energetically piled the white fluted laces in the huge +basket--piled it full to the brim, until her arm ached with the weight +of it--the basket which was to play such a fatal part in the truant +Daisy's life--the life which for sixteen short years had been so +monotonous. + +Over the corn-fields half hid by the clover came a young girl tripping +lightly along. John Brooks paused in the path as he caught sight of +her. "Poor, innocent little Daisy!" he muttered half under his breath, +as he gazed at her quite unseen. + +Transferred to canvas, it would have immortalized a painter. No wonder +the man's heart softened as he gazed. He saw a glitter of golden +curls, and the scarlet gleam of a mantle--a young girl, tall and +slender, with rounded, supple limbs, and a figure graceful in every +line and curve--while her arms, bare to the elbow, would have charmed +a sculptor. Cheek and lips were a glowing rosy red--while her eyes, of +the deepest and darkest blue, were the merriest that ever gazed up to +the summer sunshine. + +Suddenly from over the trees there came the sound of the great bell at +the Hall. Daisy stood quite still in alarm. + +"It is five o'clock!" she cried. "What shall I do? Aunt Septima will +be so angry with me; she promised Miss Pluma her white dresses should +be at the Hall by five, and it is that already." + +Poor little Daisy! no wonder her heart throbbed painfully and the look +of fear deepened in her blue eyes as she sped rapidly up the path that +led to the little cottage where Septima grimly awaited her with +flushed face and flashing eyes. + +"So," she said, harshly, "you are come at last, are you? and a pretty +fright you have given me. You shall answer to Miss Pluma _herself_ for +this. I dare say you will never attempt to offend her a second time." + +"Indeed, Aunt Septima, I never dreamed it was so late," cried +conscious Daisy. "I was watching the sun rise over the cotton-fields, +and watching the dewdrops glittering on the corn, thinking of the +beautiful heiress of Whitestone Hall. I am so sorry I forgot about the +dresses." + +Hastily catching up the heavy basket, she hurried quickly down the +path, like a startled deer, to escape the volley of wrath the +indignant spinster hurled after her. + +It was a beautiful morning; no cloud was in the smiling heavens; the +sun shone brightly, and the great oak and cedar-trees that skirted the +roadside seemed to thrill with the song of birds. Butterflies spread +their light wings and coquetted with the fragrant blossoms, and busy +humming-bees buried themselves in the heart of the crimson wild rose. +The basket was very heavy, and poor little Daisy's hands ached with +the weight of it. + +"If I might but rest for a few moments only," she said to herself, +eying the cool, shady grass by the roadside. "Surely a moment or two +will not matter. Oh, dear, I am so tired!" + +She set the basket down on the cool, green grass, flinging herself +beside it beneath the grateful shade of a blossoming magnolia-tree, +resting her golden head against the basket of filmy laces that were to +adorn the beautiful heiress of whom she had heard so much, yet never +seen, and of whom every one felt in such awe. + +She looked wistfully at the great mansion in the distance, thinking +how differently her own life had been. + +The soft, wooing breeze fanned her cheeks, tossing about her golden +curls in wanton sport. It was so pleasant to sit there in the dreamy +silence watching the white fleecy clouds, the birds, and the flowers, +it was little wonder the swift-winged moments flew heedlessly by. +Slowly the white lids drooped over the light-blue eyes, the long, +golden lashes lay against the rosy cheeks, the ripe lips parted in a +smile--all unheeded were the fluted laces--Daisy slept. Oh, cruel +breeze--oh, fatal wooing breeze to have infolded hapless Daisy in your +soft embrace! + +Over the hills came the sound of baying hounds, followed by a quick, +springy step through the crackling underbrush, as a young man in +close-fitting velvet hunting-suit and jaunty velvet cap emerged from +the thicket toward the main road. + +As he parted the magnolia branches the hound sprang quickly forward at +some object beneath the tree, with a low, hoarse growl. + +"Down, Towser, down!" cried Rex Lyon, leaping lightly over some +intervening brushwood. "What kind of game have we here? Whew!" he +ejaculated, surprisedly; "a young girl, pretty as a picture, and, by +the eternal, fast asleep, too!" + +Still Daisy slept on, utterly unconscious of the handsome brown eyes +that were regarding her so admiringly. + +"I have often heard of fairies, but this is the first time I have ever +caught one napping under the trees. I wonder who she is anyhow? Surely +she can not be some drudging farmer's daughter with a form and face +like that?" he mused, suspiciously eying the basket of freshly +laundered laces against which the flushed cheeks and waving golden +hair rested. + +Just then his ludicrous position struck him forcibly. + +"Come, Towser," he said, "it would never do for you and me to be +caught staring at this pretty wood-nymph so rudely, if she should by +chance awaken just now." + +Tightening the strap of his game-bag over his shoulder, and +readjusting his velvet cap jauntily over his brown curls, Rex was +about to resume his journey in the direction of Whitestone Hall, when +the sound of rapidly approaching carriage-wheels fell upon his ears. +Realizing his awkward position, Rex knew the wisest course he could +possibly pursue would be to screen himself behind the magnolia +branches until the vehicle should pass. The next instant a pair of +prancing ponies, attached to a basket phaeton, in which sat a young +girl, who held them well in check, dashed rapidly up the road. Rex +could scarcely repress an exclamation of surprise as he saw the +occupant was his young hostess, Pluma Hurlhurst of Whitestone Hall. +She drew rein directly in front of the sleeping girl, and Rex Lyon +never forgot, to his dying day, the discordant laugh that broke from +her red lips--a laugh which caused poor Daisy to start from her +slumber in wild alarm, scattering the snowy contents of the basket in +all directions. + +For a single instant their eyes met--these two girls, whose lives were +to cross each other so strangely--poor Daisy, like a frightened bird, +as she guessed intuitively at the identity of the other; Pluma, +haughty, derisive, and scornfully mocking. + +"You are the person whom Miss Brooks sent to Whitestone Hall with my +mull dresses some three hours since, I presume. May I ask what +detained you?" + +Poor Daisy was quite crestfallen; great tear-drops trembled on her +long lashes. How could she answer? She had fallen asleep, wooed by the +lulling breeze and the sunshine. + +"The basket was so heavy," she answered, timidly, "and I--I--sat down +to rest a few moments, and--" + +"Further explanation is quite unnecessary," retorted Pluma, sharply, +gathering up the reins. "See that you have those things at the Hall +within ten minutes; not an instant later." + +Touching the prancing ponies with her ivory-handled whip, the haughty +young heiress whirled leisurely down the road, leaving Daisy, with +flushed face and tear-dimmed eyes, gazing after her. + +"Oh, dear, I wish I had never been born," she sobbed, flinging herself +down on her knees, and burying her face in the long, cool grass. "No +one ever speaks a kind word to me but poor old Uncle John, and even he +dare not be kind when Aunt Septima is near. She might have taken this +heavy basket in her carriage," sighed Daisy, bravely lifting the heavy +burden in her delicate arms. + +"That is just what I think," muttered Rex Lyon from his place of +concealment, savagely biting his lip. + +In another moment he was by her side. + +"Pardon me," he said, deferentially raising his cap from his glossy +curls, "that basket is too heavy for your slender arms. Allow me to +assist you." + +In a moment the young girl stood up, and made the prettiest and most +graceful of courtesies as she raised to his a face he never forgot. +Involuntarily he raised his cap again in homage to her youth, and her +shy sweet beauty. + +"No; I thank you, sir, I have not far to carry the basket," she +replied, in a voice sweet as the chiming of silver bells--a voice that +thrilled him, he could not tell why. + +A sudden desire possessed Rex to know who she was and from whence she +came. + +"Do you live at the Hall?" he asked. + +"No," she replied, "I am Daisy Brooks, the overseer's niece." + +"Daisy Brooks," said Rex, musingly. "What a pretty name! how well it +suits you!" + +He watched the crimson blushes that dyed her fair young face--she +never once raised her dark-blue eyes to his. The more Rex looked at +her the more he admired this coy, bewitching, pretty little maiden. +She made a fair picture under the boughs of the magnolia-tree, thick +with odorous pink-and-white tinted blossoms, the sunbeams falling on +her golden hair. + +The sunshine or the gentle southern wind brought Rex no warning he was +forging the first links of a dreadful tragedy. He thought only of the +shy blushing beauty and coy grace of the young girl--he never dreamed +of the hour when he should look back to that moment, wondering at his +own blind folly, with a curse on his lips. + +Again from over the trees came the sound of the great bell from the +Hall. + +"It is eight o'clock," cried Daisy, in alarm. "Miss Pluma will be so +angry with me." + +"Angry!" said Rex; "angry with you! For what?" + +"She is waiting for the mull dresses," replied Daisy. + +It was a strange idea to him that any one should dare be angry with +this pretty gentle Daisy. + +"You will at least permit me to carry your basket as far as the gate," +he said, shouldering her burden without waiting for a reply. Daisy had +no choice but to follow him. "There," said Rex, setting the basket +down by the plantation gate, which they had reached all too soon, "you +must go, I suppose. It seems hard to leave the bright sunshine to go +indoors." + +"I--I shall soon return," said Daisy, with innocent frankness. + +"Shall you?" cried Rex. "Will you return home by the same path?" + +"Yes," she replied, "if Miss Pluma does not need me." + +"Good-bye, Daisy," he said. "I shall see you again." + +He held out his hand and her little fingers trembled and fluttered in +his clasp. Daisy looked so happy yet so frightened, so charming yet so +shy, Rex hardly knew how to define the feeling that stirred in his +heart. + +He watched the graceful, fairy figure as Daisy tripped away--instead +of thinking he had done a very foolish thing that bright morning. Rex +lighted a cigar and fell to dreaming of sweet little Daisy Brooks, and +wondering how he should pass the time until he should see her again. + +While Daisy almost flew up the broad gravel path to the house, the +heavy burden she bore seemed light as a feather--no thought that she +had been imprudent ever entered her mind. + +There was no one to warn her of the peril which lay in the witching +depths of the handsome stranger's glances. + +All her young life she had dreamed of the hero who would one day come +to her, just such a dream as all youthful maidens experience--an idol +they enshrine in their innermost heart, and worship in secret, never +dreaming of a cold, dark time when the idol may lie shattered in ruins +at their feet. How little knew gentle Daisy Brooks of the fatal love +which would drag her down to her doom! + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +In an elegant boudoir, all crimson and gold, some hours later, sat +Pluma Hurlhurst, reclining negligently on a satin divan, toying idly +with a volume which lay in her lap. She tossed the book aside with a +yawn, turning her superb dark eyes on the little figure bending over +the rich trailing silks which were to adorn her own fair beauty on the +coming evening. + +"So you think you would like to attend the lawn fête to-night, Daisy?" +she asked, patronizingly. + +Daisy glanced up with a startled blush, + +"Oh, I should like it so much, Miss Pluma," she answered, hesitatingly, +"if I only could!" + +"I think I shall gratify you," said Pluma, carelessly. "You have made +yourself very valuable to me. I like the artistic manner you have +twined these roses in my hair; the effect is quite picturesque." She +glanced satisfiedly at her own magnificent reflection in the +cheval-glass opposite. Titian alone could have reproduced those +rich, marvelous colors--that perfect, queenly beauty. He would have +painted the picture, and the world would have raved about its beauty. +The dark masses of raven-black hair; the proud, haughty face, with +its warm southern tints; the dusky eyes, lighted with fire and +passion, and the red, curved lips. "I wish particularly to look my +very best to-night, Daisy," she said; "that is why I wish you to +remain. You can arrange those sprays of white heath in my hair +superbly. Then you shall attend the fête, Daisy. Remember, you are not +expected to take part in it; you must sit in some secluded nook +where you will be quite unobserved." + +Pluma could not help but smile at the ardent delight depicted in +Daisy's face. + +"I am afraid I can not stay," she said, doubtfully, glancing down in +dismay at the pink-and-white muslin she wore. "Every one would be sure +to laugh at me who saw me. Then I would wish I had not stayed." + +"Suppose I should give you one to wear--that white mull, for +instance--how would you like it? None of the guests would see you," +replied Pluma. + +There was a wistful look in Daisy's eyes, as though she would fain +believe what she heard was really true. + +"Would you really?" asked Daisy, wonderingly. "You, whom people call +so haughty and so proud--you would really let me wear one of your +dresses? I do not know how to tell you how much I am pleased!" she +said, eagerly. + +Pluma Hurlhurst laughed. Such rapture was new to her. + +The night which drew its mantle over the smiling earth was a perfect +one. Myriads of stars shone like jewels in the blue sky, and not a +cloud obscured the face of the clear full moon. Hurlhurst Plantation +was ablaze with colored lamps that threw out soft rainbow tints in all +directions as far as the eye could reach. The interior of Whitestone +Hall was simply dazzling in its rich rose bloom, its lights, its +fountains, and rippling music from adjoining ferneries. + +In an elegant apartment of the Hall Basil Hurlhurst, the recluse +invalid, lay upon his couch, trying to shut out the mirth and gayety +that floated up to him from below. As the sound of Pluma's voice +sounded upon his ear he turned his face to the wall with a bitter +groan. "She is so like--" he muttered, grimly. "Ah! the pleasant +voices of our youth turn into lashes which scourge us in our old age. +'Like mother, like child.'" + +The lawn fête was a grand success; the _élite_ of the whole country +round were gathered together to welcome the beautiful, peerless +hostess of Whitestone Hall. Pluma moved among her guests like a queen, +yet in all that vast throng her eyes eagerly sought one face. "Where +was Rex?" was the question which constantly perplexed her. After the +first waltz he had suddenly disappeared. Only the evening before +handsome Rex Lyon had held her jeweled hand long at parting, +whispering, in his graceful, charming way, he had something to tell +her on the morrow. "Why did he hold himself so strangely aloof?" Pluma +asked herself, in bitter wonder. Ah! had she but known! + +While Pluma, the wealthy heiress, awaited his coming so eagerly, Rex +Lyon was standing, quite lost in thought, beside a rippling fountain +in one of the most remote parts of the lawn, thinking of Daisy Brooks. +He had seen a fair face--that was all--a face that embodied his dream +of loveliness, and without thinking of it found his fate, and the +whole world seemed changed for him. + +Handsome, impulsive Rex Lyon, owner of several of the most extensive +and lucrative orange groves in Florida, would have bartered every +dollar of his worldly possessions for love. + +He had hitherto treated all notion of love in a very off-hand, +cavalier fashion. + +"Love is fate," he had always said. He knew Pluma loved him. Last +night he had said to himself: The time had come when he might as well +marry; it might as well be Pluma as any one else, seeing she cared so +much for him. Now all that was changed. "I sincerely hope she will not +attach undue significance to the words I spoke last evening," he +mused. + +Rex did not care to return again among the throng; it was sweeter far +to sit there by the murmuring fountain dreaming of Daisy Brooks, and +wondering when he should see her again. A throng which did not hold +the face of Daisy Brooks had no charm for Rex. + +Suddenly a soft step sounded on the grass; Rex's heart gave a sudden +bound; surely it could not be--yes, it was--Daisy Brooks. + +She drew back with a startled cry as her eyes suddenly encountered +those of her hero of the morning. She would have fled precipitately +had he not stretched out his hand quickly to detain her. + +"Daisy," cried Rex, "why do you look so frightened? Are you displeased +to see me?" + +"No," she said. "I--I--do not know--" + +She looked so pretty, so bewildered, so dazzled by joy, yet so +pitifully uncertain, Rex was more desperately in love with her than +ever. + +"Your eyes speak, telling me you _are_ pleased, Daisy, even if your +lips _refuse_ to tell me so. Sit down on this rustic bench, Daisy, +while I tell you how anxiously I awaited your coming--waited until the +shadows of evening fell." + +As he talked to her he grew more interested with every moment. She +had no keen intellect, no graceful powers of repartee, knew little of +books or the great world beyond. Daisy was a simple, guileless child +of nature. + +Rex's vanity was gratified at the unconscious admiration which shone +in her eyes and the blushes his words brought to her cheeks. + +"There is my favorite waltz, Daisy," he said, as the music of the +irresistible "Blue Danube" floated out to them. "Will you favor me +with a waltz?" + +"Miss Pluma would be so angry," she murmured. + +"Never mind her anger, Daisy. I will take all the blame on _my_ +shoulders. They are unusually broad, you see." + +He led her half reluctant among the gay throng; gentlemen looked at +one another in surprise. Who is she? they asked one of the other, +gazing upon her in wonder. No one could answer. The sweet-faced little +maiden in soft, floating white, with a face like an angel's, who wore +no other ornament than her crown of golden hair, was a mystery and a +novelty. In all the long years of her after life Daisy never forgot +that supremely blissful moment. It seemed to her they were floating +away into another sphere. Rex's arms were around her, his eyes smiling +down into hers; he could feel the slight form trembling in his +embrace, and he clasped her still closer. With youth, music, and +beauty--there was nothing wanting to complete the charm of love. + +Leaning gracefully against an overarching palm-tree stood a young man +watching the pair with a strange intentness; a dark, vindictive smile +hovered about the corners of his mouth, hidden by his black mustache, +and there was a cruel gleam in the dark, wicked eyes scanning the face +of the young girl so closely. + +"Ah! why not?" he mused. "It would be a glorious revenge." He made his +way hurriedly in the direction of his young hostess, who was, as +usual, surrounded by a group of admirers. A deep crimson spot burned +on either cheek, and her eyes glowed like stars, as of one under +intense, suppressed excitement. + +Lester Stanwick made his way to her side just as the last echo of the +waltz died away on the air, inwardly congratulating himself upon +finding Rex and Daisy directly beside him. + +"Miss Pluma," said Stanwick, with a low bow, "will you kindly present +me to the little fairy on your right? I am quite desperately smitten +with her." + +Several gentlemen crowded around Pluma asking the same favor. + +With a smile and a bow, what could Rex do but lead Daisy gracefully +forward. Those who witnessed the scene that ensued never forgot it. +For answer Pluma Hurlhurst turned coldly, haughtily toward them, +drawing herself up proudly to her full height. + +"There is evidently some mistake here," she said, glancing scornfully +at the slight, girlish figure leaning upon Rex Lyon's arm. "I do not +recognize this person as a guest. If I mistake not, she is one of the +hirelings connected with the plantation." + +If a thunderbolt had suddenly exploded beneath Rex's feet he could not +have been more thoroughly astounded. + +Daisy uttered a piteous little cry and, like a tender flower cut down +by a sudden, rude blast, would have fallen at his feet had he not +reached out his arm to save her. + +"Miss Hurlhurst," cried Rex, in a voice husky with emotion, "I hold +myself responsible for this young lady's presence here. I--" + +"Ah!" interrupts Pluma, ironically; "and may I ask by what right you +force one so inferior, and certainly obnoxious, among us?" + +Rex Lyon's handsome face was white with rage. "Miss Hurlhurst," he +replied, with stately dignity, "I regret, more than the mere words +express, that my heedlessness has brought upon this little creature at +my side an insult so cruel, so unjust, and so bitter, in simply +granting my request for a waltz--a request very reluctantly granted. +An invited guest among you she may not be; but I most emphatically +defy her inferiority to any lady or gentleman present." + +"Rex--Mr. Lyon," says Pluma, icily, "you forget yourself." + +He smiled contemptuously. "I do not admit it," he said, hotly. "I have +done that which any gentleman should have done; defended from insult +one of the purest and sweetest of maidens. I will do more--I will +shield her, henceforth and forever, with my very life, if need be. If +I can win her, I shall make Daisy Brooks my wife." + +Rex spoke rapidly--vehemently. His chivalrous soul was aroused; he +scarcely heeded the impetuous words that fell from his lips. He could +not endure the thought that innocent, trusting little Daisy should +suffer through any fault of his. + +"Come, Daisy," he said, softly, clasping in his own strong white ones +the little fingers clinging so pitifully to his arm, "we will go away +from here at once--our presence longer is probably obnoxious. +Farewell, Miss Hurlhurst." + +"Rex," cried Pluma, involuntarily taking a step forward, "you do not, +you can not mean what you say. You will not allow a creature like that +to separate us--you have forgotten, Rex. You said you had something to +tell me. You will not part with me so easily," she cried. + +A sudden terror seized her at the thought of losing him. He was her +world. She forgot the guests gathering about her--forgot she was the +wealthy, courted heiress for whose glance or smiles men sued in +vain--forgot her haughty pride, in the one absorbing thought that Rex +was going from her. Her wild, fiery, passionate love could bear no +restraint. + +"Rex," she cried, suddenly falling on her knees before him, her face +white and stormy, her white jeweled hands clasped supplicatingly, "you +must not, you shall not leave me so; no one shall come between us. +Listen--I love you, Rex. What if the whole world knows it--what will +it matter, it is the truth. My love is my life. You loved me until she +came between us with her false, fair face. But for this you would have +asked me to be your wife. Send that miserable little hireling away, +Rex--the gardener will take charge of her." + +Pluma spoke rapidly, vehemently. No one could stay the torrent of her +bitter words. + +Rex was painfully distressed and annoyed. Fortunately but very few of +the guests had observed the thrilling tableau enacted so near them. + +"Pluma--Miss Hurlhurst," he said, "I am sorry you have unfortunately +thus expressed yourself, for your own sake. I beg you will say no +more. You yourself have severed this night the last link of +friendship between us. I am frank with you in thus admitting it. I +sympathize with you, while your words have filled me with the +deepest consternation and embarrassment, which it is useless longer to +prolong." + +Drawing Daisy's arm hurriedly within his own, Rex Lyon strode quickly +down the graveled path, with the full determination of never again +crossing the threshold of Whitestone Hall, or gazing upon the face of +Pluma Hurlhurst. + +Meanwhile Pluma had arisen from her knees with a gay, mocking laugh, +turning suddenly to the startled group about her. + +"Bravo! bravo! Miss Pluma," cried Lester Stanwick, stepping to her +side at that opportune moment. "On the stage you would have made a +grand success. We are practicing for a coming charade," explained +Stanwick, laughingly; "and, judging from the expressions depicted on +our friend's faces, I should say you have drawn largely upon real +life. You will be a success, Miss Pluma." + +No one dreamed of doubting the assertion. A general laugh followed, +and the music struck up again, and the gay mirth of the fête resumed +its sway. + +Long after the guests had departed Pluma sat in her boudoir, her heart +torn with pain, love, and jealousy, her brain filled with schemes of +vengeance. + +"I can not take her life!" she cried; "but if I could mar her +beauty--the pink-and-white beauty of Daisy Brooks, which has won Rex +from me--I would do it. I shall torture her for this," she cried. "I +will win him from her though I wade through seas of blood. Hear me, +Heaven," she cried, "and register my vow!" + +Pluma hastily rung the bell. + +"Saddle Whirlwind and Tempest at once!" she said to the servant who +answered her summons. + +"It is after midnight, Miss Pluma. I--" + +There was a look in her eyes which would brook no further words. + +An hour later they had reached the cottage wherein slept Daisy Brooks, +heedless of the danger that awaited her. + +"Wait for me here," said Pluma to the groom who accompanied her--"_I +will not be long!_" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +"Daisy," said Rex, gently, as he led her away from the lights and the +echoing music out into the starlight that shone with a soft, silvery +radiance over hill and vale, "I shall never forgive myself for being +the cause of the cruel insult you have been forced to endure to-night. +I declare it's a shame. I shall tell Pluma so to-morrow." + +"Oh, no--no--please don't, Mr. Rex. I--I--had no right to waltz with +you," sobbed Daisy, "when I knew you were Pluma's lover." + +"Don't say that, Daisy," responded Rex, warmly. "I am glad, after all, +everything has happened just as it did, otherwise I should never have +known just how dear a certain little girl had grown to me; besides, I +am not Pluma's lover, and never shall be now." + +"You have quarreled with her for my sake," whispered Daisy, +regretfully. "I am so sorry--indeed I am." + +Daisy little dreamed, as she watched the deep flush rise to Rex's +face, it was of her he was thinking, and not Pluma, by the words, "a +certain little girl." + +Rex saw she did not understand him; he stopped short in the path, +gazing down into those great, dreamy, pleading eyes that affected him +so strangely. + +"Daisy," he said, gently, taking her little clinging hands from his +arm, and clasping them in his own, "you must not be startled at what I +am going to tell you. When I met you under the magnolia boughs, I knew +I had met my fate. I said to myself: 'She, and no other, shall be my +wife.'" + +"Your wife," she cried, looking at him in alarm. "Please don't say so. +I don't want to be your wife." + +"Why not, Daisy?" he asked, quickly. + +"Because you are so far above me," sobbed Daisy. "You are so rich, and +I am only poor little Daisy Brooks." + +Oh, how soft and beautiful were the eyes swimming in tears and lifted +so timidly to his face! She could not have touched Rex more deeply. +Daisy was his first love, and he loved her from the first moment their +eyes met, with all the strength of his boyish, passionate nature; so +it is not strange that the thought of possessing her, years sooner +than he should have dared hope, made his young blood stir with ecstasy +even though he knew it was wrong. + +"Wealth shall be no barrier between us, Daisy," he cried. "What is all +the wealth in the world compared to love? Do not say that again. Love +outweighs everything. Even though you bid me go away and forget you, +Daisy, I could not do it. I can not live without you." + +"Do you really love me so much in so short a time?" she asked, +blushingly. + +"My love can not be measured by the length of time I have known you," +he answered, eagerly. "Why, Daisy, the strongest and deepest love men +have ever felt have come to them suddenly, without warning." + +The glamour of love was upon him; he could see no faults in pretty +little artless Daisy. True, she had not been educated abroad like +Pluma, but that did not matter; such a lovely rosebud mouth was made +for kisses, not grammar. + +Rex stood in suspense beside her, eagerly watching the conflict going +on in the girl's heart. + +"Don't refuse me, Daisy," he cried, "give me the right to protect you +forever from the cold world; let us be married to-night. We will keep +it a secret if you say so. You must--you _must_, Daisy, for I can not +give you up." + +Rex was so eager, so earnest, so thoroughly the impassioned lover! His +hands were clinging to her own, his dark, handsome face drooped near +hers, his pleading eyes searching her very soul. + +Daisy was young, romantic, and impressible; a thousand thoughts rushed +through her brain; it would be so nice to have a young husband to love +her and care for her like Rex, so handsome and so kind; then, too, she +would have plenty of dresses, as fine as Pluma wore, all lace and +puffs; she might have a carriage and ponies, too; and when she rolled +by the little cottage, Septima, who had always been so cruel to her, +would courtesy to _her_, as she did when Pluma, the haughty young +heiress, passed. + +The peachy bloom on her cheeks deepened; with Daisy's thoughtless +clinging nature, her craving for love and protection, her implicit +faith in Rex, who had protected her so nobly at the fête--it is not to +be wondered Rex won the day. + +Shyly Daisy raised her blue eyes to his face--and he read a shy, sweet +consent that thrilled his very soul. + +"You shall never regret this hour, my darling," he cried, then in the +soft silvery twilight he took her to his heart and kissed her +rapturously. + +His mother's bitter anger, so sure to follow--the cold, haughty +mother, who never forgot or forgave an injury, and his little sister +Birdie's sorrow were at that moment quite forgotten--even if they had +been remembered they would have weighed as naught compared with his +lovely little Daisy with the golden hair and eyes of blue looking up +at him so trustingly. + +Daisy never forgot that walk through the sweet pink clover to the +little chapel on the banks of the lonely river. The crickets chirped +in the long green grass, and the breeze swayed the branches of the +tall leafy trees, rocking the little birds in their nests. + +A sudden, swift, terrified look crept up into Daisy's face as they +entered the dim shadowy parlor. Rex took her trembling chilled hands +in his own; if he had not, at that moment, Daisy would have fled from +the room. + +"Only a little courage, Daisy," he whispered, "then a life of +happiness." + +Then as if in a dream she stood quite still by his side, while the +fatal ceremony went on; in a confused murmur she heard the questions +and responses of her lover, and answered the questions put to her; +then Rex turned to her with a smile and a kiss. + +Poor little thoughtless Daisy--it was done--in a moment she had sown +the seeds from which was to spring up a harvest of woe so terrible +that her wildest imagination could not have painted it. + +"Are we really married, Rex?" she whispered, as he led her out again +into the starlight; "it seems so much like a dream." + +He bent his handsome head and kissed his pretty child-bride. Daisy +drew back with a startled cry--his lips were as cold as ice. + +"Yes, you are my very own now," he whispered. "No one shall ever have +the right to scold you again; you are mine now, Daisy, but we must +keep it a secret from every one for awhile, darling. You will do this +for my sake, won't you, Daisy?" he asked. "I am rich, as far as the +world knows, but it was left to me under peculiar conditions. I--I--do +not like to tell you what those conditions were, Daisy." + +"Please tell me, Rex," she said, timidly; "you know I am +your--your--wife--now." + +Daisy blushed so prettily as she spoke. Rex could not refrain from +catching her up in his arms and kissing her. + +"You _shall_ know, my darling," he cried. "The conditions were I +should marry the bride whom my mother selected for me. I was as much +startled as you will be, Daisy, when you hear who it was--Pluma +Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall." + +"But you can not marry her now, Rex," whispered the little child-bride, +nestling closer in his embrace. + +"No; nor I would not if I could. I love you the best, my pretty wild +flower. I would not exchange you, sweet, for all the world. I have +only told you this so you will see why it is necessary to keep our +marriage a secret--for the present, at least." + +Daisy readily consented. + +"You are very wise, Rex," she said. "I will do just as you tell me." + +By this time they had reached Daisy's home. + +"I will meet you to-morrow at the magnolia-tree, where first I found +my little wood-nymph, as I shall always call you. Then we can talk +matters over better. You will be sure to come while the dew sparkles +on your pretty namesakes?" he asked, eagerly. + +Before she had time to answer the cottage door opened and Septima +appeared in the door-way. Rex was obliged to content himself with +snatching a hasty kiss from the rosy lips. The next moment he was +alone. + +He walked slowly back through the tangled brushwood--not to +Whitestone Hall, but to an adjoining hostelry--feeling as though he +were in a new world. True, it _was_ hard to be separated from his +little child-bride. But Rex had a clever brain; he meant to think +of some plan out of the present difficulty. His face flushed and +paled as he thought of his new position; it seemed to him every +one must certainly read in his face he was a young husband. + +Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the broad gravel path to the little +cottage, wondering if it were a dream. + +"Well!" said Septima, sharply, "this is a pretty time of night to come +dancing home, leaving me all alone with the baking! If I hadn't my +hands full of dough I'd give your ears a sound boxing! I'll see you're +never out after dark again, I'll warrant." + +For a moment Daisy's blue eyes blazed, giving way to a roguish smile. + +"I wonder what she would say if she knew I was Daisy Brooks no longer, +but Mrs. Rex Lyon?" she thought, untying the blue ribbons of her hat. +And she laughed outright as she thought how amazed Septima would look; +and the laugh sounded like the ripple of a mountain brook. + +"Now, Aunt Seppy," coaxed Daisy, slipping up behind her and flinging +her plump little arms around the irate spinster's neck, "please don't +be cross. Indeed I was very particularly detained." + +Stptima shook off the clinging arms angrily. + +"You can't coax _me_ into upholding you with your soft, purring ways. +I'm not Brother John, to be hoodwinked so easily. Detained! A likely +story!" + +"No," laughed Daisy; "but you are dear old Uncle John's sister, and I +could love you for that, if for nothing else. But I really was +detained, though. Where's Uncle John?" + +"He's gone to the Hall after you, I reckon. I told him he had better +stop at home--you were like a bad penny, sure to find your way back." + +A sudden terror blanched Daisy's face. + +"When did he go, Aunt Seppy?" she asked, her heart throbbing so loudly +she was sure Septima would hear it. + +"An hour or more ago." + +Daisy hastily picked up her hat again. + +"Where are you going?" demanded Septima, sharply. + +"I--I--am going to meet Uncle John. Please don't stop me," she cried, +darting with the speed of a young gazelle past the hand that was +stretched out to stay her mad flight. "I--I--must go!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"I say you shall not," cried Septima, planting herself firmly before +her. "You shall not leave this house to-night." + +"You have no right to keep me here," panted Daisy. "I am--I am--" The +words died away on her lips. Rex had told her she must not tell just +yet. + +"You are a rash little fool," cried Septima, wrathfully. "You are the +bane of my life, and have been ever since that stormy winter night +John brought you here. I told him then to wash his hands of the whole +matter; you would grow up a willful, impetuous minx, and turn out at +last like your mother." + +Daisy sprung to her feet like lightning, her velvet eyes blazing, her +breath coming quick and hot. + +"Speak of me as lightly as you will, Aunt Septima," she cried, "but +you must spare my poor mother's name! Oh, mother, mother!" she cried, +flinging herself down on her knees, and sobbing piteously, "if you had +only taken me with you, down into the dark cruel waters!" + +"I only wish to Heaven she had!" fervently ejaculated Septima. + +At that moment a quick, hurried step sounded on the gravel path +without, and John Brooks hastily entered the room. + +"Ah! thank God! here you are, Daisy. I was over at the Hall for you, +and they told me you had left some hours before. I knew you had not +been home, and I was sorely afraid something had happened you." + +Ah! how little he knew! Something had happened to her, the darkest and +cruelest shadow that had ever darkened a girl's life was slowly +gathering above her innocent head, and was soon to break, carrying in +its turbulent depths a sorrow more bitter than death to bear. + +John Brooks glanced inquiringly from the one to the other, intuitively +guessing he must have interrupted a scene. + +Daisy had struggled up from her knees to a sitting posture, putting +her hair, curled into a thousand shining rings, away from her flushed +face. + +"Have you been scolding Daisy again, Septima?" he asked, angrily, +taking the panting little damsel from the floor and seating her upon +his knee, and drawing her curly head down to his rough-clad shoulder, +and holding it there with his toil-hardened hand. "What have you been +saying to my little Daisy that I find her in tears?" + +"I was telling her if she did not mend her willful ways she might turn +out like her moth--" + +"Hush!" exclaimed John Brooks, excitedly. "I shouldn't have thought +you would have dared say that. What does Daisy know of such things?" +he muttered, indignantly. "Don't let your senses run away with you, +Septima." + +"Don't let your senses run away with you, John Brooks. Haven't you the +sense to know Daisy is getting too big for you to take on your knee +and pet in that fashion? I am really ashamed of you. Daisy is almost a +woman!" snapped Septima, scornfully--"quite sixteen." + +John Brooks looked at his sister in amazement, holding little Daisy +off and gazing into the sweet little blooming face, and stroking the +long fluffy golden curls as he replied: + +"Ah, no, Septima; Daisy is only a child. Why, it seems as though +it were but yesterday I used to take her with me through the +cotton-fields, and laugh to see her stretch her chubby hands up, +crying for the bursting blossoms, growing high above her curly +golden head. Pshaw! Septima, Daisy is only a merry, frolicsome, +romantic child yet." + +Daisy nestled her tell-tale face closer on his broad shoulder to hide +the swift blushes that crept up to cheek and brow. + +"Look up, pet," he said, coaxingly, "I have news for you." + +"What--what is it?" gasped Daisy, wondering if he could possibly have +heard of her romantic marriage with Rex, turning white to the very +lips, her blue eyes darkening with suspense. + +"Come, come, now," laughed, John, good-humoredly, "don't get excited, +pet, it will take me just as long to tell it anyhow; it is something +that will please you immensely." + +He drew from his breast pocket as he spoke a thick, yellow envelope, +which contained several printed forms with blank spaces which were to +be filled up. There was something in his voice which made Daisy look +at him, but her eyes fell and her cheeks flushed hotly as she met his +glance. + +Daisy was not used to keeping a secret locked up in her truthful +little heart. She longed to throw her arms around his neck and whisper +to him of her mad, romantic marriage, and of the handsome young +husband who loved her so fondly. + +Daisy knew so little of real life, and less of love and marriage, up +to the time she had met Rex! Her heroes had been imaginary ones, her +ideas of love only girlish, romantic fancies. It was all very +exciting and charming. She was very fond of handsome Rex, but she had +yet to learn the depths of love which, sooner or later, brightens the +lives of lovable women. + +Daisy looked at the envelope with a wistful glance. + +"I am going to make a lady of you, my little sunbeam. I am going to +send you off to boarding-school. That's what you have always wanted; +now I am going to humor your whim." + +"But I--I do not want to go now, Uncle John. I--I have changed my +mind." + +"What!" + +"I--I don't want to go off to boarding-school now. I had rather stay +here with you." + +John Brooks laid down the pipe he was just lighting in genuine +surprise. + +"Why, it's only last week you were crying those pretty eyes of yours +out, teasing to be sent to school. I--well, confound it--I don't +understand the ways of women. I always thought you were different from +the rest, little Daisy, but I see you are all the same. Never two days +of the same mind. What is the reason you've changed your mind, pet?" + +"Indeed, I don't want to go now, Uncle John. Please don't talk about +it any more. I--I am happier here than I can tell you." + +John Brooks laughed cheerily. + +"It's too late for you to change your mind now, little one. I have +made arrangements for you to start bright and early to-morrow morning. +The stage will be here by daylight, so you had better start off to bed +at once, or there will be no roses in these checks to-morrow." + +He never forgot the expression of the white, startled face Daisy +raised to his. For once in her life Daisy was unable to shake him from +his purpose. + +"I know best, little one," he said. "I mean to make a lady of you. You +have no fortune, little Daisy, but your pretty face. It will be hard +to lose my little sunbeam, but it is my duty, Daisy. It is too late to +back out now; for once I am firm. You must start to-morrow morning." + +"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" sobbed Daisy, throwing herself down on her +little white bed when she had reached her own room, "what shall I do? +I can't go without seeing Rex. I never heard of a girl that was +married being sent off to school. I--I dare not tell Uncle John I am +somebody's wife. Oh, if I could only see Rex!" Daisy springs out of +bed and crosses over to the little white curtained window, gazing out +into the still calm beauty of the night. "If I only knew where to +find Rex," she mused, "I would go to him now. Surely he would not let +me be sent away from him." She turned away from the window with a +sigh. "I must see Rex to-morrow morning," she said, determinedly. And +the weary little golden head, tired out with the day which had just +died out, sunk restfully down upon the snowy pillow in a dreamless +sleep, the happiest, alas! that poor little girl-bride was to know for +long and weary years. + +A dark, dreamy silence wraps the cottage in its soft embrace, the +moon, clear and full, sails tranquilly through the star-sown heavens, +and the sweet scent of distant orange groves is wafted through the +midnight breeze. Yet the dark-cloaked figure that walks quickly and +softly up the graveled walk sees none of the soft, calm beauty of the +still summer night. She raises the brass knocker with a quick, +imperative touch. After a wait of perhaps ten minutes or so Septima +answers the summons, but the candle she holds nearly drops from her +hands as she beholds the face of her midnight visitor in the dim, +uncertain flickering glare of the candle-light. + +"Miss Pluma," she exclaims, in amazement, "is there any one ill at the +Hall?" + +"No!" replies Pluma, in a low, soft, guarded whisper. "I wished to see +you--my business is most important--may I come in?" + +"Certainly," answered Septima, awkwardly. "I beg your pardon, miss, +for keeping you standing outside so long." + +As Pluma took the seat Septima placed for her, the dark cloak she wore +fell from her shoulders, and Septima saw with wonder she still wore +the shimmering silk she had in all probability worn at the fête. The +rubies still glowed like restless, leaping fire upon her perfect arms +and snowy throat, and sprays of hyacinth were still twined in her +dark, glossy hair; but they were quite faded now, drooping, crushed, +and limp among her curls; there was a strange dead-white pallor on her +haughty face, and a lurid gleam shone in her dark, slumbrous eyes. +Pluma had studied well the character of the woman before her--who made +no secret of her dislike for the child thrust upon their bounty--and +readily imagined she would willingly aid her in carrying out the +scheme she had planned. + +Slowly one by one the stars died out of the sky; the pale moon drifted +silently behind the heavy rolling clouds; the winds tossed the tops of +the tall trees to and fro, and the dense darkness which precedes the +breaking of the gray dawn settled over the earth. + +The ponies which the groom had held for long hours pawed the ground +restlessly; the man himself was growing impatient. + +"She can be up to no good," he muttered; "all honest people should be +in their beds." + +The door of the cottage opened, and Pluma Hurlhurst walked slowly down +the path. + +"All is fair in love's warfare," she mutters, triumphantly. "Fool! +with your baby face and golden hair, you shall walk quickly into the +net I have spread for you; he shall despise you. Ay, crush with his +heel into the earth the very flowers that bear the name of _Daisy_." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Under the magnolia-tree, among the pink clover, Rex Lyon paced +uneasily to and fro, wondering what could have happened to detain +Daisy. He was very nervous, feverish, and impatient, as he watched the +sun rising higher and higher in the blue heavens, and glanced at his +watch for the fifth time in the space of a minute. + +"Pshaw!" he muttered, whisking off the tops of the buttercups near him +with his ebony walking-stick. "I am not myself at all. I am growing as +nervous as a woman. I think I'll read little sister Birdie's letter +over again to occupy my mind until my sweet little Daisy comes." + +He sighed and smiled in one breath, as he threw himself down at full +length on the green grass under the trees. Taking from his pocket a +little square white envelope, addressed in a childish hand to "Mr. +Rexford Lyon, Allendale, West Virginia, Care of Miss Pluma." Rex +laughed aloud, until the tears started to his eyes, as they fell on +the words "_Care of Miss Pluma_," heavily underlined in the lower +corner. + +"That is just like careless little romping Birdie," he mused. "She +supposes, because _she_ knows who _Miss Pluma_ is, every one else must +certainly be aware of the same fact." + +He spread out the letter on his knee, trying hard to while away time +in perusing its pages. + +Rex looked so fresh and cool and handsome in his white linen suit, +lying there under the shady trees that summer morning, his dark curls +resting on his white hand, and a smile lighting up his pleasant face, +it is not to be wondered at he was just the kind of young fellow to +win the love of young romantic girls like Daisy and Pluma--the haughty +young heiress. + +Slowly Rex read the letter through to the end. The morning stage +whirled rapidly past him on its way to meet the early train. Yet, all +unconscious that it bore away from him his treasure, he never once +glanced up from the letter he was reading. + +Again Rex laughed aloud as he glanced it over, reading as follows: + + "DEAR BROTHER REX,--We received the letter you wrote, and the + picture you sent with it, and my heart has been so heavy ever + since that I could not write to you because big tears would fall + on the page and blot it. Now, dear old Brother Rex, don't be angry + at what your little Birdie is going to say. Mamma says you are + going to marry and bring home a wife, and she showed me her + picture, and said you was very much in love with her, and I must + be so too. But I can't fall in love with her, Brother Rex; indeed, + I've tried very hard and I can't; don't tell anybody, but I'm + awfully afraid I sha'n't like her one bit. She looks stylish, and + her name Pluma sounds real stylish too, but she don't look kind. I + thought, perhaps, if I told you I did not like her you might give + her up and come home. I forgot to tell you the blue room and the + room across the hall is being fixed up for you just lovely, and I + am to have your old one. + + "P.S.--And we received a letter from Mr. Lester Stanwick, too. He + says he will be passing through here soon and wishes to call. When + are you coming home, Rex? Don't bring any one with you. + + "Your loving little sister, + "BIRDIE." + +"There's no fear of my bringing Pluma home now," he laughed, whistling +a snatch of "The Pages' Chorus." "Birdie won't have anything to fear +on that score. I do wish mother hadn't set my heart on my marrying +Pluma. Parents make a mistake in choosing whom their children shall +marry and whom they shall not. Love goes where it is sent." + +He looked at his watch again. + +"By George!" he muttered, turning very pale upon seeing another hour +had slipped away, "I can not stand this a minute longer. I _must_ see +what has happened to Daisy." + +With a nameless fear clutching at his heart--a dark, shadowy +fear--like the premonition of coming evil, Rex made his way rapidly +through the tangled underbrush, cutting across lots to John Brooks' +cottage. + +He had determined to call for Daisy upon some pretext. It was rather a +bold undertaking and might cause comment, still Rex was reckless of +all consequences; he _must_ see Daisy at all hazards; and when Rex +made up his mind to do anything he usually succeeded; he was as daring +and courageous as he was reckless and handsome. + +Once, twice, thrice he knocked, receiving no answer to his summons. + +"That's strange," he mused, "exceedingly strange." + +Hardly knowing what prompted him to do it, Rex turned the knob; it +yielded to the touch, swinging slowly back on its creaking hinges. + +"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, gazing wildly about him and as pale as +death, "Daisy is gone and the cottage is empty!" + +He leaned against the door-way, putting his hand to his brow like one +who had received a heavy blow; and the bare walls seemed to take up +the cry and echo, mockingly, "Gone!" + +The blow was so sudden and unexpected he was completely bewildered; +his brain was in a whirl. + +He saw a laborer crossing the cotton-fields and called to him. + +"I was looking for John Brooks," said Rex. "I find the cottage empty. +Can you tell me where they have gone?" + +"Gone!" echoed the man, surprisedly. "I don't understand it; I was +passing the door a few hours since, just as the stage drove off with +John Brooks and Daisy. 'Good-bye, neighbor,' he called out to me, 'I +am off on an extended business trip. You must bring your wife over to +see Septima; she will be lonely, I'll warrant.' There was no sign of +him moving then. I--I don't understand it." + +"You say he took Daisy with him," asked Rex, with painful eagerness. +"Can you tell me where they went?" + +The man shook his head and passed on. Rex was more mystified than +ever. + +"What can it all mean?" he asked himself. "Surely," he cried, +"Daisy--dear little innocent blue-eyed Daisy--could not have meant to +deceive me; yet why has she not told me?" + +The hot blood mounted to his temples. Perhaps Daisy regretted having +married him and had fled from him. The thought was so bitter it almost +took his breath away. Rex loved her so madly, so passionately, so +blindly, he vowed to himself he would search heaven and earth to find +her. And in that terrible hour the young husband tasted the first +draught of the cup of bitterness which he was to drain to the very +dregs. + +Poor Rex! he little knew this was but the first stroke of Pluma +Hurlhurst's fatal revenge--to remove her rival from her path that she +might win him back to his old allegiance. + + * * * * * + +Early that morning there had been great bustle and stir in the Brooks' +cottage. In vain Daisy had attempted to steal quietly away into her +own little room and write a hasty line to Rex, which, if all other +means failed her, she could send to him by one of the men employed in +the fields, begging him to come to her at once. Septima would not +leave her to herself for a single instant. Even her writing-desk, +which had stood on the bureau in the corner for years, was gone. Poor +little Daisy cried out to herself--fate was against her. + +"I should like to say good-bye to the old familiar scenes, Septima," +she said, making a desperate effort to meet Rex by some means. "I +should like to see the old magnolia-tree down in the glade just once +before I go." + +"Nonsense," replied Septima, sharply, a malicious smile hovering about +the corners of her mouth. "I guess the trees and the flowers won't +wither and die of grief if you don't bid them good-bye; it's too late +now, anyhow. See, here is the stage coming already," she cried, +glancing out of the window, "and here comes John with his valise and +umbrella. Make haste, Daisy; where's your gloves and satchel?" + +For one brief instant Daisy stood irresolute; if she had only dared +cry out to them "I am a bride; it is cruel to send me away from Rex," +what a world of misery might have been spared her! but her lips were +sealed. + +"Well, well," cried John Brooks, hurriedly entering the room; "not +ready yet, little girlie? We must be off at once or we will miss the +train." + +In vain Daisy protested brokenly she could not go, and the agony in +those blue uplifted eyes would have touched a heart of stone. Still +John Brooks believed it would be a sin to comply with her request. Go +to school she must, for Heaven had intended a cultured mind should +accompany so beautiful a face. Half lifting, half carrying the slight +figure in his powerful arms, Daisy was borne, half fainting and +sobbing as though her heart would break, to the vehicle which stood in +waiting. + +On through the fragrant stillness of that sunshiny summer morning the +jolting stage rolled rapidly on its way, crossing the little bridge +where she had lingered only the night before with Rex, her husband; +they would soon reach the alder bushes that skirted the pool. The next +bend in the road would bring her in sight of the magnolia-tree where +Rex would be awaiting her. + +Ah, thank Heaven, it was not too late! she could fling out her arms, +and cry out: "Rex, my love, my darling, they are bearing me from you! +Save me, Rex, my darling, save me!" + +John Brooks sat quietly by her side silently wondering what had come +over little Daisy--sweet, impulsive little Daisy--in a single night. +"She is only a child," he muttered to himself, "full of whims and +caprices; crying her eyes out last week because she could not go off +to school, and now crying because she's got to go." + +Swiftly the stage rolled down the green sloping hill-side; in another +moment it had reached the alder bushes and gained the curve of the +road, and she saw Rex lying on the green grass waiting for her. The +sunlight drifting through the magnolia blossoms fell upon his +handsome, upturned, smiling face and the dark curls pushed back from +his white forehead. "Rex! Rex!" she cried, wringing her white hands, +but the words died away on her white lips, making no sound. Then the +world seemed to close darkly around her, and poor little Daisy, the +unhappy girl-bride, fell back in the coach in a deadly swoon. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +"Poor little Daisy!" cried John Brooks, wiping away a suspicious +moisture from his eyes with his rough, toil-hardened hand, "she takes +it pretty hard now; but the time will come when she will thank me for +it. Heaven knows there's nothing in this world more valuable than an +education; and she will need it, poor little, motherless child!" + +As the stage drove up before the station Daisy opened her blue eyes +with a sigh. "I can at least write to Rex at once," she thought, "and +explain the whole matter to him." Daisy smiled as she thought Rex +would be sure to follow on the very next train. + +John Brooks watched the smile and the flush of the rosy face, and +believed Daisy was beginning to feel more reconciled about going to +school. + +"I hope we will get there by noon," said John, anxiously, taking the +seat beside her on the crowded train. "If we missed the train at the +cross-roads it would be a serious calamity. I should be obliged to +send you on alone; for I _must_ get to New York by night, as I have +some very important business to transact for the plantation which +must be attended to at once." + +"Alone!" echoed Daisy, tremblingly. "Why, Uncle John, I was never away +from home alone in my life!" + +"That's just the difficulty," he answered, perplexedly. "I have always +guarded my little flower from the world's cruel blasts, and you are +unused to the rough side of life." + +"Still, I _could_ go on alone," persisted Daisy, bravely. + +John Brooks laughed outright. + +"You would get lost at the first corner, my girlie! Then I should have +to fly around to these newspaper offices, advertising for the recovery +of a little country Daisy which was either lost, strayed, or stolen. +No, no, little one!" he cried; "I would not trust you alone, a +stranger in a great city. A thousand ills might befall a young girl +with a face like yours." + +"No one would know I was a stranger," replied Daisy, innocently. "I +should simply inquire the way to Madame Whitney's, and follow the +directions given me." + +"There! didn't I tell you you could never find the way?" laughed John +until he was red in the face. "You suppose a city is like our country +lanes, eh?--where you tell a stranger: 'Follow that path until you +come to a sign-post, then that will tell you which road leads to the +village.' Ha! ha! ha! Why, my dear little Daisy, not one person in a +hundred whom you might meet ever heard of Madame Whitney! In cities +people don't know their very neighbors personally. They are sure to +find out if there's any scandal afloat about them--and that is all +they do know about them. You would have a lively time of it finding +Madame Whitney's without your old uncle John to pilot you through, I +can tell you." + +Daisy's last hope was nipped in the bud. She had told herself, if she +were left alone, she could send a telegram back at once to Rex, and he +would join her, and she would not have to go to school--school, which +would separate a girl-bride from her handsome young husband, of whom +she was fast learning to be so fond. + +"I could have sent you under the care of Mr. Stanwick," continued +John, thoughtfully. "He started for the city yesterday--but I did not +receive Madame Whitney's letter in time." + +He did not notice, as he spoke, that the occupant in the seat directly +in front of them gave a perceptible start, drawing the broad slouch +hat he wore, which concealed his features so well, still further over +his face, while a cruel smile lingered for a moment about the handsome +mouth. + +The stranger appeared deeply interested in the columns of the paper he +held before him; but in reality he was listening attentively to the +conversation going on behind him. + +"I shall not lose sight of this pretty little girl," said Lester +Stanwick to himself, for it was he. "No power on earth shall save her +from me. I shall win her from him--by fair means or foul. It will be a +glorious revenge!" + +"Madame Whitney's seminary is a very high-toned institution," +continued John, reflectively; "and the young girls I saw there wore no +end of furbelows and ribbons; but I'll warrant for fresh, sweet beauty +you'll come out ahead of all of 'em, Pet." + +"You think so much of me, dear good old uncle," cried Daisy, +gratefully. "I--I wonder if any one in the world could ever--could +ever care for me as--as you do?" whispered Daisy, laying her soft, +warm cheek against his rough hand. + +"No one but a husband," he responded, promptly. "But you are too young +to have such notions in your head yet awhile. Attend to your books, +and don't think of beaus. Now that we are on the subject, I might as +well speak out what I've had on my mind some time back. I don't want +my little Daisy to fall in love with any of these strangers she +happens to meet. You are too young to know anything about love +affairs. You'll never rightly understand it until it comes to you. I +must know all about the man who wants my little Daisy. Whatever you +do, little one, do upright and honestly. And, above all, never deceive +me. I have often heard of these romantic young school-girls falling in +love with handsome strangers, and clandestine meetings following, +ending in elopements; but, mark my words, no good comes of these +deceptions--forewarned is forearmed. Daisy, you'll always remember my +words, and say to yourself: 'He knows what is best.' You will remember +what I say, won't you, Pet?" + +He wondered why the fair, sweet face grew as pale as a snow-drop, and +the cold little fingers trembled in his clasp, and the velvety eyes +drooped beneath his earnest gaze. + +"Yes," whispered Daisy; "I shall remember what you have said." + +In spite of her efforts to speak naturally and calmly the sweet voice +would tremble. + +"Bal--ti--more!" shouted the brakeman, lustily. "Twenty minutes for +breakfast. Change cars for the north and west!" + +"Ah, here we are!" cried John, hastily gathering up their satchels and +innumerable bundles. "We must make haste to reach the uptown omnibus +to get a seat, or we shall have to stand and cling to the strap all +the way up. I'm an old traveler, you see. There's nothing like knowing +the ins and outs." + +"Have a coach uptown, sir? Take you to any part of the city. Coach, +sir?" cried innumerable hackmen, gathering about them. + +Daisy tightened her hold on John's arm. She quite believed they +intended to pick her up and put her in the coach by main force. One of +them was actually walking off with her reticule. + +"Hold there, young man," cried John, quickly, recovering the satchel. +"Don't make yourself uneasy on our account. We would be pleased to +ride in your conveyance if you don't charge anything. We have no +money." + +The loquacious hackmen fell back as if by magic. Daisy was blushing +like a rose, terribly embarrassed. John Brooks laughed long and +heartily. + +"That's the quickest way in the world to rid yourself of those +torments," he declared, enjoying his little joke hugely. "Why, Daisy, +if you had come on alone some of those chaps would have spirited you +away without even saying so much as 'by your leave.'" + +Mme. Whitney's Seminary for Young Ladies was a magnificent structure, +situated in the suburbs of Baltimore. On either side of the pebbled +walk which led to the main entrance were tall fountains tossing their +rainbow-tinted sprays up to the summer sunshine. The lawn in front was +closely shaven, and through the trees in the rear of the building +could be seen the broad rolling Chesapeake dancing and sparkling in +the sunlight. The reputation of this institution was second to none. +Young ladies were justly proud of being able to say they finished +their education at Mme. Whitney's establishment. + +As a natural consequence, the school was composed of the _élite_ of +the South. Clang! clang! clang! sounded the great bell from the belfry +as Daisy, with a sinking, homesick feeling stealing over her, walked +slowly up the paved walk by John Brooks' side toward the imposing, +aristocratic structure. + +Poor little Daisy never forgot that first day at boarding-school; how +all the dainty young girls in their soft white muslins glanced in +surprise at her when Mme. Whitney brought her into the school-room, +but she could have forgiven them for that if they had not laughed at +her poor old uncle John, in his plain country garb, and they giggled +behind their handkerchiefs when she clung to his neck and could not +say good-bye through her tears, but sunk down into her seat, leaning +her head on her desk, bravely trying to keep back the pearly drops +that would fall. + +When recess came Daisy did not leave her seat. She would have given +the world to have heard Rex's voice just then; she was beginning to +realize how much his sheltering love was to her. She would even have +been heartily glad to have been back in the little kitchen at the +cottage, no matter how much Septima scolded her. + +All the girls here had the same haughty way of tossing their heads and +curling their lips and looking innumerable things out of their eyes, +which reminded Daisy so strongly of Pluma Hurlhurst. + +Most of the girls had left the school-room, dividing off into groups +and pairs here and there. Daisy sat watching them, feeling wretchedly +lonely. Suddenly a soft white hand was laid lightly on her shoulder, +and a sweet voice said: + +"We have a recess of fifteen minutes, won't you come out into the +grounds with me? I should be so pleased to have you come." The voice +was so gentle, so coaxing, so sweet, Daisy involuntarily glanced up at +the face of the young girl bending over her as she arose to accompany +her. She put her arm around Daisy's waist, school-girl fashion, as +they walked down the lone halls and out to the green grassy lawn. "My +name is Sara Miller," she said; "will you tell me yours?" + +"Daisy Brooks," she answered, simply. + +"What a pretty name!" cried her new-found friend, enthusiastically, +"and how well it suits you! Why, it is a little poem in itself." + +Daisy flushed as rosy as the crimson geraniums near them, remembering +Rex, her own handsome Rex, had said the same thing that morning he had +carried her heavy basket to the gates of Whitestone Hall--that morning +when all the world seemed to change as she glanced up into his merry +brown eyes. + +"We are to be room-mates," explained Sara, "and I know I shall like +you ever so much. Do you think you will like me?" + +"Yes," said Daisy. "I like you now." + +"Thank you," said Miss Sara, making a mock courtesy. "I am going to +love you with all my might, and if you don't love me you will be the +most ungrateful creature in the world. I know just how lonesome you +must be," continued Sara. "I remember just how lonesome I was the +first day I was away from mamma, and when night set in and I was all +alone, and I knew I was securely locked in, I was actually thinking of +tearing the sheets of my bed into strips and making a rope of them, +and letting myself down to the ground through the window, and making +for home as fast as I could. I knew I would be brought back the next +day, though," laughed Sara. "Mamma is so strict with me. I suppose +yours is too?" + +"I have no mother--or father," answered Daisy. "All my life I have +lived with John Brooks and his sister Septima, on the Hurlhurst +Plantation. I call them aunt and uncle. Septima has often told me no +relationship at all existed between us." + +"You are an orphan, then?" suggested the sympathetic Sara. "Is there +no one in all the world related to you?" + +"Yes--no--o," answered Daisy, confusedly, thinking of Rex, her young +husband, and of the dearest relationship in all the world which +existed between them. + +"What a pity," sighed Sara. "Well, Daisy," she cried, impulsively, +throwing both her arms around her and giving her a hearty kiss, "you +and I will be all the world to each other. I shall tell you all my +secrets and you must tell me yours. There's some girls you can trust, +and some you can't. If you tell them your secrets, the first time you +have a spat your secret is a secret no longer. Every girl in the +school knows all about it; of course you are sure to make up again. +But," added Sara, with a wise expression, "after you are once +deceived, you can never trust them again." + +"I have never known many girls," replied Daisy. "I do not know how +others do, but I'm sure you can always trust my friendship." + +And the two girls sealed their compact with a kiss, just as the great +bell in the belfry rang, warning them they must be at their lessons +again--recess was over. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +In one of the private offices of Messrs. Tudor, Peck & Co., the shrewd +Baltimore detectives, stood Rex, waiting patiently until the senior +member of the firm should be at leisure. + +"Now, my dear sir, I will attend you with pleasure," said Mr. Tudor, +sealing and dispatching the note he had just finished, and motioning +Rex to a seat. + +"I shall be pleased if you will permit me to light a cigar," said Rex, +taking the seat indicated. + +"Certainly, certainly; smoke, if you feel so inclined, by all means," +replied the detective, watching with a puzzled twinkle in his eye the +fair, boyish face of his visitor. "No, thank you," he said, as Rex +tendered him an Havana; "I never smoke during business hours." + +"I wish to engage your services to find out the whereabouts +of--of--of--my wife," said Rex, hesitatingly. "She has left +me--suddenly--she fled--on the very night of our marriage!" + +It hurt Rex's pride cruelly to make this admission, and a painful +flush crept up into the dark rings of hair lying on his white +forehead. + +Mr. Tudor was decidedly amazed. He could not realize how any sane +young woman could leave so handsome a young fellow as the one before +him. In most cases the shoe was on the other foot; but he was too +thoroughly master of his business to express surprise in his face. He +merely said: + +"Go on, sir; go on!" + +And Rex did go on, never sparing himself in describing how he urged +Daisy to marry him on the night of the fête, and of their parting, and +the solemn promise to meet on the morrow, and of his wild grief--more +bitter than death--when he had found the cottage empty. + +"It reads like the page of a romance," said Rex, with a dreary smile, +leaning his head on his white hand. "But I must find her!" he cried, +with energy. "I shall search the world over for her. If it takes every +cent of my fortune, I shall find Daisy!" + +Rex looked out of the window at the soft, fleecy clouds overhead, +little dreaming Daisy was watching those self-same clouds, scarcely a +stone's throw from the very spot where he sat, and at that moment he +was nearer Daisy than he would be for perhaps years again, for the +strong hand of Fate was slowly but surely drifting them asunder. + +For some moments neither spoke. + +"Perhaps," said Mr. Tudor, breaking the silence, "there was a previous +lover in the case?" + +"I am sure there was not!" said Rex, eagerly. + +Still the idea was new to him. He adored Daisy with a mad, idolatrous +adoration, almost amounting to worship, and a love so intense is +susceptible to the poisonous breath of jealousy, and jealousy ran in +Rex's veins. He could not endure the thought of Daisy's--his +Daisy's--eyes brightening or her cheek flushing at the approach of a +rival--that fair, flower-like face, sweet and innocent as a +child's--Daisy, whom he so madly loved. + +"Well," said Mr. Tudor, as Rex arose to depart, "I will do all I can +for you. Leave your address, please, in case I should wish to +communicate with you." + +"I think I shall go back to Allendale, remaining there at least a +month or so. I have a strong conviction Daisy might come back, or at +least write to me there." + +Mr. Tudor jotted down the address, feeling actually sorry for the +handsome young husband clinging to such a frail straw of hope. In his +own mind, long before Rex had concluded his story, he had settled his +opinion--that from some cause the young wife had fled from him with +some rival, bitterly repenting her mad, hasty marriage. + +"I have great faith in your acknowledged ability," said Rex, grasping +Mr. Tudor's outstretched hand. "I shall rest my hopes upon your +finding Daisy. I can not, will not, believe she is false. I would as +soon think of the light of heaven playing me false as my sweet little +love!" + + * * * * * + +The dark mantle of night had folded its dusky wings over the inmates +of the seminary. All the lights were out in the young ladies' +rooms--as the nine-o'clock call, "All lights out!" had been called +some ten minutes before--all the lights save one, flickering, dim, and +uncertain, from Daisy's window. + +"Oh, dear!" cried Daisy, laying her pink cheek down on the letter she +was writing to Rex, "I feel as though I could do something _very_ +desperate to get away from here--and--and--back to Rex. Poor fellow!" +she sighed, "I wonder what he thought, as the hours rolled by and I +did not come? Of course he went over to the cottage," she mused, "and +Septima must have told him where I had gone. Rex will surely come for +me to-morrow," she told herself, with a sweet, shy blush. + +She read and reread the letter her trembling little hands had penned +with many a heart-flutter. It was a shy, sweet little letter, +beginning with "Dear Mr. Rex," and ending with, "Yours sincerely, +Daisy." It was just such a dear, timid letter as many a pure, +fresh-hearted loving young girl would write, brimful of the love which +filled her guileless heart for her handsome, debonair Rex--with many +allusions to the secret between them which weighed so heavily on her +heart, sealing her lips for his dear sake. + +After sealing and directing her precious letter, and placing it in the +letter-bag which hung at the lower end of the corridor, Daisy hurried +back to her own apartment and crept softly into her little white bed, +beside Sara, and was soon fast asleep, dreaming of Rex and a dark, +haughty, scornful face falling between them and the sunshine--the +cold, mocking face of Pluma Hurlhurst. + +Mme. Whitney, as was her custom, always looked over the out-going +mail early in the morning, sealing the letters of which she approved, +and returning, with a severe reprimand, those which did not come up to +the standard of her ideas. + +"What is this?" she cried, in amazement, turning the letter Daisy had +written in her hand. "Why, I declare, it is actually sealed!" Without +the least compunction she broke the seal, grimly scanning its contents +from beginning to end. If there was anything under the sun the madame +abominated it was love-letters. + +It was an established fact that no tender _billets-doux_ found their +way from the academy; the argus-eyed madame was too watchful for +that. + +With a lowering brow, she gave the bell-rope a hasty pull. + +"Jenkins," she said to the servant answering her summons, "send Miss +Brooks to me here at once!" + +"Poor little thing!" cried the sympathetic Jenkins to herself. "I +wonder what in the world is amiss now? There's fire in the madame's +eye. I hope she don't intend to scold poor little Daisy Brooks." +Jenkins had taken a violent fancy to the sweet-faced, golden-haired, +timid young stranger. + +"It must be something terrible, I'm sure!" cried Sara, when she heard +the madame had sent for Daisy; while poor Daisy's hand trembled +so--she could scarcely tell why--that she could hardly bind up the +golden curls that fell down to her waist in a wavy, shining sheen. + +Daisy never once dreamed her letter was the cause of her unexpected +summons, until she entered Mme. Whitney's presence and saw it +opened--yes, opened--her own sacred, loving letter to Rex--in her +hand. + +Daisy was impulsive, and her first thought was to grasp her precious +letter and flee to her own room. How dared the madame open the +precious letter she had intended only for Rex's eyes! + +"Miss Brooks," began madame, impressively, "I suppose I am right in +believing this epistle belongs to you?" + +A great lump rose in Daisy's throat. + +"Yes, madame," answered Daisy, raising her dark-blue eyes pleadingly +to the stern face before her. + +"And may I ask by what right you dared violate the rules and +regulations of this establishment by sending a sealed letter to--a +man? Your guardian strictly informed me you had no correspondents +whatever, and I find this is a--I blush to confess it--actually a +love-letter. What have you to say in reference to your folly, Miss +Brooks?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," sobbed Daisy. + +"You don't know?" repeated madame, scornfully. "Not a very satisfactory +explanation. Well, Miss Brooks, I have fully determined what steps I +shall take in the matter. I shall read this letter this morning before +the whole school; it will afford me an excellent opportunity to point +out the horrible depths to which young girls are plunged by allowing +their minds to wander from their books to such thoughts as are here +expressed. What do you mean by this secret to which you allude so +often?" she asked, suddenly. + +"Please do not ask me, madame," sobbed Daisy; "I can not tell +you--indeed I can not. I dare not!" + +An alarming thought occurred to madame. + +"Speak, girl!" she cried, hoarsely, grasping her firmly by the +shoulder. "I must know the meaning of this secret which is so +appalling. You fear to reveal it! Does your guardian know of it?" + +"No--o!" wailed Daisy; "I could not tell him. I must keep the +secret." + +Poor little innocent Daisy! her own words had convicted her beyond all +pardon in the eyes of shrewd, suspicious Mme. Whitney, who guessed, as +is usually the case, wide of the mark, as to the cause of the secret +Daisy dare not to reveal to her guardian or herself. + +"My duty is plain in this case," said madame. "I shall read this as a +terrible warning to the young ladies of this institution; then I will +send for Mr. John Brooks, your guardian, and place this letter in his +hands." + +"Oh, no, madame, in pity's name, no!" sobbed Daisy, wildly, kneeling +imploringly at her feet, her heart beating tumultuously, and her hands +locked convulsively together. "Do not, madame, I pray you; anything +but that; he would cast me out of his heart and home, and I--I could +not go to Rex, you see." + +But madame did not see. She laughed a little hard, metallic laugh that +grated, oh, so cruelly, on Daisy's sensitive nerves. + +When one woman's suspicions are aroused against another, Heaven help +the suspected one; there is little mercy shown her. + +"Man's inhumanity to man" is nothing compared to woman's inhumanity to +woman. + +Mme. Whitney had discovered a capital way to score a hit in the +direction of morality. + +"No," she said, laying the letter down on the table before her. "Arise +from your knees, Miss Brooks. Your prayers are useless. I think this +will be a life-long lesson to you." + +"Oh, madame, for the love of Heaven!" cried Daisy, rocking herself to +and fro, "spare me, I beseech you! Can nothing alter your purpose?" + +"Well," said madame, reflectively, "I may not be quite so severe with +you if you will confess, unreservedly, the whole truth concerning this +terrible secret, and what this young man Rex is to you." + +"I can not," wailed Daisy, "I can not. Oh, my heart is breaking, yet I +dare not." + +"Very well," said madame, rising, indicating the conversation was at +an end, "I shall not press you further on the subject. I will excuse +you now, Miss Brooks. You may retire to your room." + +Still Daisy rocked herself to and fro on her knees at her feet. +Suddenly a daring thought occurred to her. The letter which had caused +her such bitter woe lay on the table almost within her very grasp--the +letter, every line of which breathed of her pure, sacred love for +Rex--her Rex--whom she dared not even claim. She could imagine madame +commenting upon every word and sentence, ridiculing those tender +expressions which had been such rapturous joy to her hungry little +heart as she had penned them. And, last of all, and far the most +bitter thought, how dear old John Brooks would turn his honest eyes +upon her tell-tale face, demanding to know what the secret was--the +secret which she had promised her young husband she would not reveal, +come what would. If his face should grow white and stern, and those +lips, which had blessed, praised, and petted, but never scolded +her--if those lips should curse her, she would die then and there at +his feet. In an instant she had resolved upon a wild, hazardous plan. +Quick as a flash of lightning Daisy sprung to her feet and tore the +coveted letter from madame's detaining grasp; the door stood open, and +with the fleetness of a hunted deer she flew down the corridor, never +stopping for breath until she had gained the very water's edge. + +Mme. Whitney gave a loud shriek and actually fainted, and the +attendant, who hurried to the scene, caught but a glimpse of a white, +terrified, beautiful face, and a cloud of flying golden hair. No one +in that establishment ever gazed upon the face of Daisy Brooks again! + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +"Where is Miss Brooks?" cried Mme. Whitney, excitedly, upon opening +her eyes. "Jenkins," she cried, motioning to the attendant who stood +nearest her, "see that Miss Brooks is detained in her own room under +lock and key until I am at liberty to attend to her case." + +The servants looked at one another in blank amazement. No one dared +tell her Daisy had fled. + +The torn envelope, which Daisy had neglected to gain possession of, +lay at her feet. + +With a curious smile Mme. Whitney smoothed it out carefully, and +placed it carefully away in her private desk. + +"Rex Lyon," she mused, knitting her brow. "Ah, yes, that was the name, +I believe. He must certainly be the one. Daisy Brooks shall suffer +keenly for this outrage," cried the madame, grinding her teeth with +impotent rage. "I shall drag her pride down to the very dust beneath +my feet. How dare the little rebel defy my orders? I shall have her +removed to the belfry-room; a night or two there will humble her +pride, I dare say," fumed the madame, pacing up and down the room. "I +have brought worse tempers than hers into subjection; still I never +dreamed the little minx would dare openly defy _me_ in that manner. I +shall keep her in the belfry-room, under lock and key, until she asks +my pardon on her bended knees; and what is more, I shall wrest the +secret from her--the secret she has defied me to discover." + + * * * * * + +On sped Daisy, as swift as the wind, crushing the fatal letter in her +bosom, until she stood at the very edge of the broad, glittering +Chesapeake. The rosy-gold rays of the rising sun lighted up the waves +with a thousand arrowy sparkles like a vast sea of glittering, waving +gold. Daisy looked over her shoulder, noting the dark forms hurrying +to and fro. + +"They are searching for me," she said, "but I will never go back to +them--never!" + +She saw a man's form hurrying toward her. At that moment she beheld, +moored in the shadow of a clump of alders at her very feet, a small +boat rocking to and fro with the tide. Daisy had a little boat of her +own at home; she knew how to use the oars. + +"They will never think of looking for me out on the water," she cried, +triumphantly, and quickly untying it, she sprung into the little +skiff, and seizing the oars, with a vigorous stroke the little shell +shot rapidly out into the shimmering water, Daisy never once pausing +in her mad, impetuous flight until the dim line of the shore was +almost indistinguishable from the blue arching dome of the horizon. +"There," she cried, flushed and excited, leaning on the oars; "no one +could possibly think of searching for me out here." + +Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes danced like stars, while the +freshening breeze blew her bright shining hair to and fro. + +Many a passing fisherman cast admiring glances at the charming little +fairy, so sweet and so daring, out all alone on the smiling, +treacherous, dancing waves so far away from the shore. But if Daisy +saw them, she never heeded them. + +"I shall stay here until it is quite dark," she said to herself; "they +will have ceased to look for me by that time. I can reach the shore +quite unobserved, and watch for Sara to get my hat and sacque; and +then"--a rosy flush stole up to the rings of her golden hair as she +thought what she would do then--"I shall go straight back to Rex--my +husband!" + +She knew John Brooks would not return home for some time to come, and +she would not go back to Septima. She made up her mind she would +certainly go to Rex. She would wait at the depot, and, if Rex did not +come in on the early train, she would go back at once to Allendale. +Her purse, with twenty dollars in it--which seemed quite a fortune to +Daisy--was luckily in her pocket, together with half of an apple and a +biscuit. The healthful exercise of rowing, together with the fresh, +cool breeze, gave Daisy a hearty appetite, and the apple and biscuit +afforded her quite a pleasant lunch. + +Poor Daisy! The pretty little girl-bride had no more thought of danger +than a child. She had no premonition that every moment the little +boat, drifting rapidly along with the tide, was bearing her rapidly +onward toward death and destruction. + +Daisy paid little heed to the dark rolling clouds that were slowly +obscuring the brilliant sunshine, or the swirl and dash of the waves +that were rocking her little boat so restlessly to and fro. The hours +seemed to slip heedlessly by her. The soft gloaming seemed to fall +about her swiftly and without warning. + +"I must turn my boat about at once!" cried Daisy, in alarm. "I am +quite a long way from the shore!" + +At that moment the distant rumbling roar of thunder sounded dismally +over the leaden-gray, white-capped water; and the wind, rising +instantly into a fierce gale, hurled the dark storm-clouds across the +sky, blotting the lurid glow of sunset and mantling the heavens above +her in its dusky folds. + +Daisy was brave of heart, but in the face of such sudden and +unlooked-for danger her courage failed her. The pretty rose-bloom +died away from her face, and her beautiful blue eyes expanded wide +with terror. She caught her breath with a sob, and, seizing the oar +with two soft, childish hands, made a desperate attempt to turn the +boat. The current resisted her weak effort, snapping the oar in twain +like a slender twig and whirling it from her grasp. + +"Rex! Rex!" she cried out, piteously, stretching out her arms, "save +me! Oh, I am lost--lost! Heaven pity me!" + +The night had fallen swiftly around her. Out, alone, on the wild, +pitiless, treacherous waves--alone with the storm and the darkness! + +The storm had now commenced in earnest, beating furiously against the +little boat, and lashing the mad waves into seething foam as they +dashed high above the terrified girl. No sound could be heard above +the wild warring of the elements--the thunder's roar, the furious +lashing of the waves and the white, radiant lightning blazing across +the vast expanse of water, making the scene sublime in its terrible +grandeur. + +"Rex! my love, my life!" she cried, in the intense agony of despair, +"you will never know how well I loved you! I have faced death rather +than betray the sweet, sad secret--I am your wife!" + +Was it the wild flashing of the lightning, or was it a red light she +saw swinging to and fro, each moment drawing rapidly nearer and +nearer? Heaven be praised! it was a barge of some kind; help was +within her reach. + +"Help!" cried Daisy, faintly. "Help! I am alone out on the water!" she +held out her arms toward the huge vessel which loomed up darkly before +her, but the terrified voice was drowned by the fierce beating of the +storm. + +Suddenly her little boat spun round and round, the swift water was +drawing her directly in the path of the barge; another moment and it +would be upon her; she beat the air with her white hands, gazing with +frozen horror at the fatal lights drawing nearer and nearer. + +"Rex, my love, good-bye!" she wailed, sinking down in the bottom of +the boat as one end of the barge struck it with tremendous force. + + * * * * * + +Leaning over the railing, evidently unmindful of the fierce fury +of the storm that raged around him, stood a young man, gazing +abstractedly over the wild dashing waves. A dark smile played about +the corners of his mouth, and his restless eyes wore a pleased +expression, as though his thoughts were in keeping with the wild, +warring elements. + +Suddenly, through the terrible roar of the storm, he heard a piteous +appeal for help, and the voice seemed to die away over the angry, +muttering waves. He leaned over the railing breathless with +excitement. The thunder crashed almost incessantly, and there came a +stunning bolt, followed by a blinding blaze of lightning. In that one +instant he had seen a white, childish face, framed in a mass of +floating golden hair, turned toward him. + +One instant more and she would be swept beneath the ponderous wheel, +beyond all mortal power of help; then the dark, hungry waters closed +cruelly over her, but in that one instantaneous glance the man's face +had turned deadly pale. + +"Great God!" he shrieked, hoarsely, "it is Daisy Brooks!" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +On the evening which followed the one just described in our last +chapter, Pluma Hurlhurst sat in her luxuriant boudoir of rose and +gold, deeply absorbed in the three letters which she held in her lap. +To one was appended the name of Septima Brooks, one was from Rex's +mother, and the last--and by far the most important one--bore the +signature of Lester Stanwick. + +Once, twice, thrice she perused it, each time with growing interest, +the glittering light deepening in her dark, flashing eyes, and the red +lips curling in a scornful smile. + +"This is capital!" she cried, exultingly; "even better than I had +planned. I could not see my way clear before, but now everything is +clear sailing." She crossed over to the mirror, looking long and +earnestly at the superb figure reflected there. "I am fair to look +upon," she cried, bitterly. "Why can not Rex love me?" + +Ah! she was fair to look upon, standing beneath the softened glow of +the overhanging chandelier, in her dress of gold brocade, with a +pomegranate blossom on her bosom, and a diamond spray flashing from +the dark, glossy curls, magnificently beautiful. + +"I was so sure of Rex," she said, bitterly; "if any one had said to +me, 'Rex prefers your overseer's niece, Daisy Brooks, with her baby +face and pink-and-white beauty,' I would have laughed them to scorn. +Prefers her to me, the haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, for whose +love, or even smile, men have sued in vain! I have managed the whole +affair very cleverly!" she mused. "John Brooks does not return before +the coming spring, and Septima is removed from my path most +effectually, and if Lester Stanwick manages his part successfully, I +shall have little to fear from Daisy Brooks! How clever Lester was to +learn Rex had been to the Detective Agency! How he must have loved +that girl!" she cried, hotly, with a darkening brow. "Ah, Rex!" she +whispered, softly (and for an instant the hard look died out of her +face), "no one shall take you from me. I would rather look upon your +face cold in death, and know no one else could claim you, than see you +smile lovingly upon a rival. There is no torture under heaven so +bitter to endure as the pangs of a love unreturned!" she cried, +fiercely. She threw open the window and leaned far out into the +radiant starlight, as the great clock pealed the hour of seven. "Rex +has received my note," she said, "with the one from his mother +inclosed. Surely he will not refuse my request. He will come, if only +through politeness!" Again she laughed, that low, mocking laugh +peculiar to her, as she heard the peal of the bell. "It is Rex," she +whispered, clasping her hands over her beating heart. "To-night I will +sow the first seeds of distrust in your heart, and when they take root +you shall despise Daisy Brooks a thousand-fold more than you love her +now. She shall feel the keen thrust of a rival's bitter vengeance!" + +Casting a last lingering glance (so woman-like!) at the perfect face +the mirror reflected, to give her confidence in herself for the coming +ordeal, Pluma Hurlhurst glided down to the parlor, where Rex awaited +her. + +It would have been hard to believe the proud, willful, polished young +heiress could lend herself to a plot so dark and so cruel as the one +she was at that moment revolving in her fertile brain. + +Rex was standing at the open window, his handsome head leaning wearily +against the casement. His face was turned partially toward her, and +Pluma could scarcely repress the cry of astonishment that rose to her +lips as she saw how pale and haggard he looked in the softened light. +She knew but too well the cause. + +He was quite unaware of Pluma's presence until a soft, white, jeweled +hand was laid lightly on his arm, and a low, musical voice whispered, +"I am so glad you have come, Rex," close to his elbow. + +They had parted under peculiar circumstances. He could fancy her at +that moment kneeling to him, under the glare of the lamp-light, +confessing her love for him, and denouncing poor little clinging Daisy +with such bitter scorn. His present position was certainly an +embarrassing one to Rex. + +"I am here in accordance with your request, Miss Hurlhurst," he said, +simply, bowing coldly over the white hand that would cling to his +arm. + +"You are very kind," she said, sweetly, "to forget that unpleasant +little episode that happened at the fête, and come to-night. I believe +I should never have sent for you," she added, archly, smiling up into +his face, "had it not been at the urgent request of your mother, +Rex." + +Pluma hesitated. Rex bit his lip in annoyance, but he was too +courteous to openly express his thoughts; he merely bowed again. He +meant Pluma should understand all thoughts of love or tenderness must +forever more be a dead letter between them. + +"My mother!" he repeated, wonderingly; "pardon me, I do not +understand." + +For answer she drew his mother's letter from her bosom and placed it +in his hands. + +He ran his eyes quickly over the page. The postscript seemed to +enlighten him. + +"The course of true love never runs smooth," it ran, "and I beseech +you, Pluma dear, if anything should ever happen, any shadow fall upon +your love, I beseech you send for Rex and place this letter in his +hands. It would not be unwomanly, Pluma, because I, his mother, so +earnestly request it; for, on your love for each other hangs my hopes +of happiness. Rex is impulsive and willful, but he will respect his +mother's wishes." + +No thought of treachery ever crossed Rex's mind as he read the lines +before him; he never once dreamed the ingeniously worded postscript +had been so cleverly imitated and added by Pluma's own hand. It never +occurred to him for an instant to doubt the sincerity of the words he +read, when he knew how dearly his mother loved the proud, haughty +heiress before him. + +"I heard you were going away, Rex," she said, softly, "and I--I could +not let you go so, and break my own heart." + +"In one sense, I am glad you sent for me," said Rex, quietly ignoring +her last remark. "I shall be much pleased to renew our friendship, +Miss Pluma, for I need your friendship--nay, more, I need your +sympathy and advice more than I can express. I have always endeavored +to be frank with you, Pluma," he said, kindly. "I have never spoken +words which might lead you to believe I loved you." + +He saw her face grow white under his earnest gaze and the white lace +on her bosom rise and fall convulsively, yet she made him no answer. + +"Please permit me to tell you why, Pluma," he said, taking her hand +and leading her to a sofa, taking a seat by her side. "I could not," +he continued, "in justice to either you or myself; for I never knew +what love was," he said, softly, "until the night of the fête." Again +he paused; but, as no answer was vouchsafed him, he went on: "I never +knew what love meant until I met Daisy--little Daisy Brooks." + +"Rex!" cried Pluma, starting to her feet, "you know not what you +say--surely you do not know! I would have warned you, but you would +not listen. I saw you drifting toward a yawning chasm; I stretched out +my arms to save you, but you would not heed me. You are a stranger to +the people around here, Rex, or they would have warned you. Sin is +never so alluring as in the guise of a beautiful woman. It is not too +late yet. Forget Daisy Brooks; she is not a fit companion for noble +Rex Lyon, or pure enough to kiss an honest man's lips." + +"For God's sake, Miss Hurlhurst, what do you mean?" cried Rex, slowly +rising from his seat and facing her, pale as death. "In Heaven's name, +explain the accusations you have just uttered, or I shall go mad! If a +man had uttered those words, I would have--" + +The words died away on his lips; he remembered he was talking to a +woman. Rex's eyes fairly glowed with rage as he turned on his heel and +strode rapidly up and down the room. + +"Rex," said Pluma, softly advancing a step toward him, "it always +grieves a true woman to admit the error of a fallen sister--they would +shield her if such a thing were possible." + +"I do not believe it," retorted Rex, impetuously. "Women seem to take +a keen delight in slandering one another, as far as I can see. But you +might as well tell me yonder moon was treacherous and vile as to tell +me Daisy Brooks was aught but sweet and pure--you could not force me +to believe it." + +"I do not attempt to force you to believe it. I have told you the +truth, as a loving sister might have done. None are so blind as those +who will not see," she said, toying with the jewels upon her white +fingers. + +"Daisy Brooks is as pure as yonder lily," cried Rex, "and I love her +as I love my soul!" + +His quivering, impassioned voice thrilled Pluma to her heart's core, +and she felt a keen regret that this wealth of love was withheld from +her own hungry heart. Rex had never appeared so noble, so handsome, +so well worth winning, in her eyes, as at that moment. + +"I am sorry for you, Rex," sobbed Pluma, artfully burying her face in +her lace kerchief, "because she can never return your love; she does +not love you, Rex." + +"Yes, she does love me," cried Rex. "I have settled it beyond a +doubt." + +"She has settled it beyond a doubt--is not that what you mean, Rex?" +she asked, looking him squarely in the face, with a peculiar glitter +in her sparkling dark eyes. + +"There is something you are keeping from me, Pluma," cried Rex, +seizing both of her hands, and gazing anxiously into the false, fair, +smiling, treacherous face. "You know where Daisy has gone--in Heaven's +name, tell me! I can not endure the suspense--do not torture me, +Pluma! I will forget you have spoken unkindly of poor little Daisy if +you will only tell me where she has gone." + +"Sit down, Rex," she said, soothingly; "I will not dare tell you while +you look at me with such a gleaming light in your eyes. Promise not to +interrupt me to the end." + +A nameless dread was clutching at his heart-strings. What could she +mean? he asked himself, confusedly. What did this foul mystery mean? +He must know, or he would go mad! + +"You may speak out unreservedly, Miss Pluma," he said, hoarsely. "I +give you my word, as a gentleman, I shall not interrupt you, even +though your words should cause me a bitter heart-pang." + +He stood before her, his arms folded across his breast, yet no pang of +remorse crept into Pluma Hurlhurst's relentless heart for the cruel +blow she was about to deal him. + +"I must begin at the time of the lawn fête," she said. "That morning +a woman begged to see me, sobbing so piteously I could not refuse +her an audience. No power of words could portray the sad story of +suffering and wrong she poured into my ears, of a niece--beautiful, +young, passionate, and willful--and of her prayers and useless +expostulations, and of a handsome, dissolute lover to whom the +girl was passionately attached, and of elopements she had frustrated, +alas! more than once. Ah! how shall I say it!--the lover was not a +marrying man." + +Pluma stopped short, and hid her face again in her kerchief as if in +utter confusion. + +"Go on--go on!" cried Rex, hoarsely. + +"'Lend me money,' cried the woman, 'that I may protect the girl by +sending her off to school at once. Kind lady, she is young, like +you, and I beg you on my knees!' I gave the woman the required +amount, and the girl was taken to school the very next day. But the +end was not there. The lover followed the girl--there must have been +a preconcerted plan between them--and on the morning after she had +entered school she fled from it--fled with her lover. That lover +was Lester Stanwick--gay, fascinating, perfidious Lester--whom you +know but too well. Can you not guess who the girl was, Rex?" + +The dark eyes regarding her were frozen with horror, his white lips +moved, but no sound issued from them. She leaned nearer to him, her +dark, perfumed hair swept across his face as she whispered, with +startling effect: + +"The girl was Daisy Brooks, and she is at this moment in company with +her lover! Heaven pity you, Rex; you must learn to forget her." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +When Daisy Brooks opened her eyes, she found herself lying on a white +bed, and in a strange apartment which she never remembered having seen +before. For one brief instant she quite imagined the terrible ordeal +through which she had passed was but a dream. Then it all came back to +her with cruel distinctness. + +"Where am I?" she cried, struggling up to a sitting posture, and +putting back the tangled golden hair from her face. "How came I here? +Who saved me from the terrible dark water?" + +"I did," answered a young man, rising from his seat by the open +window. "I saved your life at the risk of my own. Look up into my +face, Daisy, and see if you do not remember me." + +She lifted her blue eyes to the dark, handsome, smiling face before +her. Yes, she had seen that face before, but she could not remember +where. + +He laughed, disclosing his handsome white teeth. + +"You can not guess, eh?" he said. "Then it is certainly evident I did +not make much of an impression upon you. I am disappointed. I will not +keep you in suspense, however. We met at Whitestone Hall, on the night +of the lawn fête, and my name is Lester Stanwick." + +Ah, she _did_ remember him, standing beneath a waving palm-tree, his +bold, dark eyes following her every motion, while she was waltzing +with Rex. + +He saw the flash of recognition in her eyes, and the blush that +mantled her fair, sweet face. + +"I am very grateful to you, sir, for saving me. But won't you take me +home, please? I don't want to go back to Madame Whitney's." + +"Of course not," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, "when you left +it in such a remarkable manner as running away." + +"How did you know I ran away?" asked Daisy, flushing hotly. + +"Madame Whitney has advertised for you," he responded, promptly. + +Although he well knew what he uttered was a deliberate falsehood, he +merely guessed the little wild bird had grown weary of the restraint, +and had flown away. + +"Did she do that?" asked Daisy, thoroughly alarmed, her great blue +eyes dilating with fear. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, what shall I do? I do not +want to go back. I would sooner die first." + +"There is no occasion for you to do either," he replied. "You are in +good hands. Stay here until the storm blows over. In all probability +the madame has sent detectives out in all directions searching for +you." + +Daisy was so young, so unsuspecting, so artless, and knew so little of +the ways of the world or its intriguing people that she quite believed +his assertion. + +"Oh, what shall I do?" she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. +"Oh, I _must_ go back to Uncle John, and--to--to--" + +Stanwick had no idea she meant Rex. He took it for granted she meant +John Brooks and Septima. + +"It is quite uncertain when John Brooks returns to Allendale," he +said; "and I suppose you are aware his sister has also left the +place--gone, no one knows whither--the Brookses' cottage on the brow +of the hill stands empty." + +"Gone!" cried Daisy, catching her breath swift and hard, "did you say, +sir? Aunt Septima has gone--no one lives in the cottage?" Poor Daisy +quite believed she was losing her senses. + +"Yes," said Stanwick, smothering a low, malicious laugh, "that is what +I said; but I am quite surprised that it is news to you. You are all +alone in the world, you see. Of course you could not go back to +Allendale. You can do no better than stay in your present quarters for +at least a week or so, until you fully recover from your mad frolic on +the water and gain a little strength." + + * * * * * + +"Where am I?" asked Daisy, "and how did I get here? and who lives +here?" + +"One question at a time, if you please," laughed Stanwick, gazing +admiringly at the beautiful, questioning, eager face. + +"I suppose," he began, with provoking coolness, "you have been filling +that little head of yours with romantic ideas of running away from +school, and sailing far out to sea, and straight into the arms of some +handsome hero who would save you, and would carry you off to some +castle, and turn out to be a prince in disguise! That's the way they +usually turn out, isn't it? But you found the theory did not work very +well in real life, and your little romance came near costing you your +life--eh, Miss Daisy? As for the second question, I rescued you, just +in the nick of time, by jumping into the turbulent waves and bearing +you out of harm's way and keeping that little romantic head of yours +above water until the barge could be stopped, and you were then +brought on board. I recognized you at once," he continued; "and to +prevent suspicion and inquiry, which would have been sure to follow, I +claimed you--as my wife! Do not be alarmed," he said, as a sharp, +horrified cry rose to the red lips. "I simply did that in order to +protect you from being returned at once in bitter disgrace to Madame +Whitney's. Not knowing what else to do with you when the boat landed, +I brought you here, and here you have been ever since, quite +unconscious up to date." + +"Was it last night you brought me here?" asked Daisy. + +"You are not good at guessing. You have been here two nights and two +days." + +"But who lives here?" persisted Daisy. "Is this your house?" + +"Oh, dear, no," laughed Stanwick. "Upon my honor, you are not very +complimentary to my taste," he said, glancing around the meagerly +furnished apartment. "As near as I can understand it, the house is +occupied by three grim old maids. Each looks to be the twin of the +other. This was the first shelter I could find, and I had carried you +all the way from the boat in my arms, and under the circumstances, +after much consulting, they at last agreed to allow you to remain +here. Now you have the whole story in a nutshell." + +"Why did they not send to Septima to come to me?" she asked +presently. + +"Because they thought you were with your best protector--your +husband." + +"Did you tell them that here, too?" asked Daisy, growing white and ill +with a dizzy horror. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, send for them at once, and +tell them it is not so, or I must!" she added, desperately. + +"You must do nothing of the kind, you silly child. Do you suppose they +would have sheltered you for a single instant if they had not believed +you were my wife? You do not know the ways of the world. Believe me, +it was the only course I could pursue, in that awkward dilemma, +without bringing disgrace and detection upon you." + +As if in answer to the question that was trembling upon Daisy's lips, +he continued: + +"I am stopping at a boarding-place some little distance from here. +This is not Baltimore, but a little station some sixty miles from +there. When you are well and strong you may go where you please, +although I frankly own the situation is by no means an unpleasant one +for me. I would be willing to stay here always--with you." + +"Sir!" cried Daisy, flushing as red as the climbing roses against the +window, her blue eyes blazing up with sudden fire, "do you mean to +insult me?" + +"By no means," responded Lester Stanwick, eagerly. "Indeed, I respect +and honor you too much for that. Why, I risked my life to save yours, +and shielded your honor with my name. Had I been your husband in very +truth I could not have done more." + +Daisy covered her face with her hands. + +"I thank you very much for saving me," she sobbed, "but won't you +please go away now and leave me to myself?" + +_Roué_ and villain as Lester Stanwick was, he could not help feeling +touched by the innocence and beauty of little Daisy, and from that +instant he loved her with a wild, absorbing, passionate love, and he +made a vow, then and there, that he would win her. + +From their boyhood up Rex and Lester had been rivals. At college Rex +had carried off the honors with flying colors. Pluma Hurlhurst, the +wealthy heiress, had chosen Rex in preference to himself. He stood +little chance with bright-eyed maidens compared with handsome, +careless, winning Rex Lyon. + +Quite unobserved, he had witnessed the meeting between Rex and Daisy +at the fountain, and how tenderly he clasped her in his arms as they +waltzed together in the mellow light, to the delicious strains of the +"Blue Danube," and knowing Rex as well as he did, he knew for the +first time in life Rex's heart was touched. + +"It would be a glorious revenge," Stanwick had muttered to himself, +"if I could win her from him." Then a sordid motive of revenge alone +prompted him--now he was beginning to experience the sweet thrillings +of awakened love himself. Yes, he had learned to love Daisy for her +own sweet self. + +He smiled as he thought of the last words Pluma Hurlhurst had said to +him: "Revenge is sweet, Lester, when love is turned to bitter hatred. +Help me to drag Rex Lyon's pride as low as he has this night dragged +mine, and you shall have my hand as your reward. My father is an +invalid--he can not live much longer--then you will be master of +Whitestone Hall." As he had walked down the broad gravel path, running +his eye over the vast plantation stretching afar on all sides, like a +field of snow, as the moonlight fell upon the waving cotton, he owned +to himself it was a fair domain well worth the winning. + +But as he stood there, gazing silently down upon little Daisy's +face--how strange it was--he would have given up twenty such +inheritances for the hope of making sweet little Daisy Brooks his +wife. + +It was well for Daisy Brooks he little dreamed of the great barrier +which lay between them, shutting him out completely from all thoughts +of love in Daisy's romantic heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +"Please go away," sobbed Daisy. "Leave me to myself, and I will get +up." + +"Very well," said Stanwick, involuntarily raising her little white +hands courteously to his lips; "and remember, I warn you, for your own +sake, not to dispute the assertion I have made--that you are my +wife." + +"Why?" asked Daisy, wistfully. "They will forgive me when I tell them +how it all came about." + +"You do not know women's ways," he replied. "They would hand you over +at once to the authorities; you would bring disgrace and ruin upon +your own head, and bitter shame to John Brooks's heart. I know him +well enough to believe he would never forgive you. On the other hand, +when you feel well enough to depart, you can simply say you are going +away with your husband. No one will think of detaining you; you will +be free as the wind to go where you will. It will cost you but a few +words. Remember, there are occasions when it is necessary to +prevaricate in order to prevent greater evils--this is one of them." + +Daisy could not dispute this specious logic, and she suffered herself +to be persuaded against her will and better judgment. She was +dreadfully homesick, poor little soul! and to go back to Allendale, to +Rex, was the one wish of her heart. But would he clasp her in his arms +if a shadow of disgrace blotted her fair name? She would go back to +him and kneel at his feet, and tell him why she had left Mme. +Whitney's. She certainly meant to tell him of all that followed, and, +with her little, warm cheek pressed close to his, ask him if she had +done right. + +At that moment the door of an adjoining room opened, and Lester +observed the three ladies standing in a row in the door-way. He knew +that three pairs of eyes were regarding him intently through as many +pairs of blue glasses. + +"Good-bye, my little wife," he said, raising his voice for their +benefit; "I'm off now. I shall see you again to-morrow;" and, before +Daisy had the least idea of his intentions, he had pressed a kiss upon +her rosy lips and was gone. + +The three ladies quickly advanced to the couch upon which Daisy +reclined. + +"We are very glad to find you are so much better this morning," they +exclaimed, all in a breath. "Your husband has been almost demented +about you, my dear." + +They wondered why the white face on the pillow turned so pink, then +faded to a dead white, and why the tear-drops started to her beautiful +blue eyes. + +"I was telling my sisters," pursued one of the ladies, softly, "you +were so young to be married--hardly more than a child. How old are +you, my dear--not more than sixteen, I suppose?" + +"Sixteen and a few months," answered Daisy. + +"How long have you been married, my dear?" questioned another of the +sisters. + +A great sob rose in Daisy's throat as she remembered it was just a +week that very day since she had stood in the dim old parlor at the +rectory, while Rex clasped her hands, his handsome, smiling eyes +gazing so lovingly down upon her, while the old minister spoke the +words that bound them for life to each other. It almost seemed to +Daisy that long years had intervened, she had passed through so much +since then. + +"Just a week to-day, madame," she made answer. + +"Why, you are a bride, then," they all chorused. "Ah! that accounts +for your husband's great anxiety about you. We all agreed we had never +seen a husband more devoted!" + +Daisy hid her face in the pillow. She thought she would go mad upon +being so cruelly misunderstood. Oh! if she had only dared throw +herself into their arms and sob out her heartaches on their bosoms. +Yes, she was a bride, but the most pitifully homesick, weary, +disheartened little girl-bride that ever the sun shone on in the wide, +wild world. + +They assisted Daisy to arise, brushing out her long, tangled, golden +curls, declaring to one another the pretty little creature looked more +like a merry, rosy-cheeked school-girl than a little bride-wife, in +her pink-and-white dotted muslin, which they had in the meantime done +up for her with their own hands. + +They wondered, too, why she never asked for her husband, and she +looked almost ready to faint when they spoke of him. + +"There seems to be something of a mystery here," remarked one of +the sisters when the trio were alone. "If that child is a bride, +she is certainly not a happy one. I do not like to judge a +fellow-creature--Heaven forbid! but I am sorely afraid all is not +right with her. Twice this afternoon, entering the room quietly, I +have found her lying face downward on the sofa, crying as if her +heart would break! I am sorely puzzled!" + +And the flame of suspicion once lighted was not easily extinguished in +the hearts of the curious spinsters. + +"'Won't you tell me your sorrow, my dear?' I said. + +"'No, no; I dare not!' she replied. + +"'Will you not confide in me, Mrs. Stanwick?' I asked. + +"She started up wildly, throwing her arms about my neck. + +"'Won't you please call me Daisy?' she sobbed, piteously; 'just +Daisy--nothing else.' + +"'Certainly, my dear, if you wish it,' I replied. 'There is one +question I would like to ask you, Daisy--you have told me your mother +is dead?' + +"'Yes,' she said, leaning her golden head against the window, and +watching the white clouds overhead in the blue sky--'my poor, dear +mother is dead!' + +"'Then will you answer me truthfully the question I am about to ask +you, Daisy, remembering your mother up in heaven hears you.' + +"She raised her blue eyes to mine. + +"'I shall answer truthfully any question you may put to me,' she said; +'if--if--it is not about Mr. Stanwick.' + +"'It is about yourself, Daisy,' I said, gravely. 'Tell me truthfully, +child, are you really a wife?' + +"She caught her breath with a hard, gasping sound; but her blue eyes +met mine unflinchingly. + +"'Yes, madame, I am, in the sight of God and man; but I am such an +unhappy one. I can not tell you why. My heart is breaking. I want to +go back to Allendale!' + +"'Is that where you live, Daisy?' + +"'Yes,' she said; 'I am going to start to-morrow morning.'" + +"How strange!" echoed the two sisters. + +"The strangest part of the affair is yet to come. The little creature +drew from her pocket a twenty-dollar bill. + +"'You have been kind and good to me,' she said. I must take enough to +carry me back to Allendale. You shall have all the rest, madame.' + +"'Put your money back into your pocket, Daisy,' I replied. 'Your +husband has already paid your bill. He begged me to accept it in +advance on the night you came.' + +"She gave a great start, and a flood of hot color rushed over her +face. + +"'I--I--did not know,' she said, faintly, 'how very good Mr. Stanwick +has been to me.'" + +The three sisters looked at one another in silent wonder over the rims +of their spectacles and shook their heads ominously. + + * * * * * + +Dear reader, we must return at this period to Rex--poor, broken-hearted +Rex--whom we left in the company of Pluma Hurlhurst in the spacious +parlor of Whitestone Hall. + +"Daisy Brooks is at this moment with Lester Stanwick! You must learn +to forget her, Rex," she repeated, slowly. + +A low cry escaped from Rex's lips, and he recoiled from her as though +she had struck him a heavy blow. His heart seemed fairly stifled in +his bosom, and he trembled in every limb with repressed excitement. + +"Here is a letter from Madame Whitney," she continued. "Read it for +yourself, Rex. You see, she says: 'Daisy fled. It has been since +ascertained she went to Elmwood, a station some sixty miles from here, +where she now is, at the cottage of the Burton sisters, in company +with her lover. I shall not attempt to claim her--her retribution must +come from another source.'" + +The words seemed to stand out in letters of fire. + +"Oh, my little love," he cried, "there must be some terrible mistake! +My God! my God! there must be some horrible mistake--some foul +conspiracy against you, my little sweetheart, my darling love!" + +He rose to his feet with a deep-drawn sigh, his teeth shut close, his +heart beating with great strangling throbs of pain. Strong and brave +as Rex was, this trouble was almost more than he could bear. + +"Where are you going, Rex?" said Pluma, laying a detaining hand upon +his arm. + +"I am going to Elmwood," he cried, bitterly, "to prove this accusation +is a cruel falsehood. Daisy has no lover; she is as sweet and pure as +Heaven itself! I was mad to doubt her for a single instant." + +"Judge for yourself, Rex--seeing is believing," said Pluma, +maliciously, a smoldering vengeance burning in her flashing eyes, and +a cold, cruel smile flitting across her face, while she murmured under +her breath: "Go, fond, foolish lover; your fool's paradise will be +rudely shattered--ay, your hopes crushed worse than mine are now, for +your lips can not wear a smile like mine when your heart is breaking. +Good-bye, Rex," she said, "and remember, in the hour when sorrow +strikes you keenest, turn to me; my friendship is true, and shall +never fail you." + +Rex bowed coldly and turned away; his heart was too sick for empty +words, and the heavy-hearted young man, who slowly walked down the +graveled path away from Whitestone Hall in the moonlight, was as +little like the gay, handsome Rex of one short week ago as could well +be imagined. + +There was the scent of roses and honeysuckles in the soft wind; and +some sweet-voiced bird awakened from sleep, and fancying it was day, +swung to and fro amid the green foliage, filling the night with +melody. The pitying stars shone down upon him from the moonlighted +heavens; but the still, solemn beauty of the night was lost upon Rex. +He regretted--oh! so bitterly--that he had parted from his sweet +little girl-bride, fearing his mother's scornful anger, or through a +sense of mistaken duty. + +"Had they but known little Daisy is my wife, they would have known how +impossible was their accusation that she was with Lester Stanwick." + +He shuddered at the very thought of such a possibility. + +The thought of Daisy, his little girl-bride, being sent to school +amused him. + +"Poor little robin!" he murmured. "No wonder she flew from her bondage +when she found the cage-door open! How pleased the little gypsy will +be to see me!" he mused. "I will clasp the dear little runaway in my +arms, and never let her leave me again! Mother could not help loving +my little Daisy if she were once to see her, and sister Birdie would +take to her at once." + +The next morning broke bright and clear; the sunshine drifted through +the green foliage of the trees, and crimson-breasted robins sung +their sweetest songs in the swaying boughs of the blossoming +magnolias; pansies and buttercups gemmed the distant hill-slope, and +nature's fountain--a merry, babbling brook--danced joyously through +the clover banks. No cloud was in the fair, blue, smiling heavens; no +voice of nature warned poor little Daisy, as she stood at the open +window drinking in the pure, sweet beauty of the morning of the dark +clouds which were gathering over her innocent head, and of the storm +which was so soon to burst upon her in all its fury. Daisy turned away +from the window with a little sigh. She did not see a handsome, +stalwart figure hurrying down the hill-side toward the cottage. How +her heart would have throbbed if she had only known Rex (for it was +he) was so near her! With a strangely beating heart he advanced toward +the little wicket gate, at which stood one of the sisters, busily +engaged pruning her rose-bushes. + +"Can you tell me, madame, where I can find the Misses Burton's +cottage?" he asked, courteously lifting his hat. + +"This is the Burton cottage," she answered, "and I am Ruth Burton. +What can I do for you?" + +"I would like to see Daisy Brooks, if you please. She is here, I +believe?" he said, questioningly. "May I come in?" + +Rex's handsome, boyish face and winning smile won their way straight +to the old lady's heart at once. + +"Perhaps you are the young lady's brother, sir? There is evidently +some mistake, however, as the young lady's name is Stanwick--Daisy +Stanwick. Her husband, Lester Stanwick--I believe that is the name--is +also in Elmwood." + +All the color died out of Rex's handsome face and the light from his +brown eyes. He leaned heavily against the gate-post. The words seemed +shrieked on the air and muttered on the breeze. + +"Daisy is _not_ his wife! My God, madame!" he cried, hoarsely, "she +_could not_ be!" + +"It is very true," replied the old lady, softly. "I have her own words +for it. There may be some mistake, as you say," she said, soothingly, +noting the death-like despair that settled over the noble face. "She +is a pretty, fair, winsome little creature, blue-eyed, and curling +golden hair, and lives at Allendale. She is certainly married. I will +call her. She shall tell you so herself. Daisy--Mrs. Stanwick--come +here, dear," she called. + +"I am coming, Miss Ruth," answered a sweet, bird-like voice, which +pierced poor Rex's heart to the very core as a girlish little figure +bounded through the open door-way, out into the brilliant sunshine. + +"God pity me!" cried Rex, staggering forward. "It _is_ Daisy--my +wife!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Rex had hoped against hope. + +"Daisy!" he cried, holding out his arms to her with a yearning, +passionate cry. "My God! tell me it is false--you are _not_ here with +Stanwick--or I shall go mad! Daisy, my dear little sweetheart, my +little love, why don't you speak?" he cried, clasping her close to his +heart and covering her face and hair and hands with passionate, +rapturous kisses. + +Daisy struggled out of his embrace, with a low, broken sob, flinging +herself on her knees at his feet with a sharp cry. + +"Daisy," said the old lady, bending over her and smoothing back the +golden hair from the lovely anguished face, "tell him the truth, dear. +You are here with Mr. Stanwick; is it not so?" + +The sudden weight of sorrow that had fallen upon poor, hapless Daisy +seemed to paralyze her very senses. The sunshine seemed blotted out, +and the light of heaven to grow dark around her. + +"Yes," she cried, despairingly; and it almost seemed to Daisy another +voice had spoken with her lips. + +"This Mr. Stanwick claims to be your husband?" asked the old lady, +solemnly. + +"Yes," she cried out again, in agony, "but, Rex, I--I--" + +The words died away on her white lips, and the sound died away in her +throat. She saw him recoil from her with a look of white, frozen +horror on his face which gave place to stern, bitter wrath. Slowly and +sadly he put her clinging arms away from him, folding his arms across +his breast with that terrible look upon his face such as a hero's face +wears when he has heard, unflinchingly, his death sentence--the calm +of terrible despair. + +"Daisy," he said, proudly, "I have trusted you blindly, for I loved +you madly, passionately. I would as soon believe the fair smiling +heavens that bend above us false as you whom I loved so madly and so +well. I was mad to bind you with such cruel, irksome bonds when your +heart was not mine but another's. My dream of love is shattered now. +You have broken my heart and ruined and blighted my life. God forgive +you, Daisy, for I never can! I give you back your freedom; I release +you from your vows; I can not curse you--I have loved you too well for +that; I cast you from my heart as I cast you from my life; farewell, +Daisy--farewell forever!" + +She tried to speak, but her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. +Oh, pitying Heaven, if she could only have cried out to you and the +angels to bear witness and proclaim her innocence! The strength to +move hand or foot seemed suddenly to have left her. She tried hard, +oh! so hard, to speak, but no sound issued from her white lips. She +felt as one in a horrible trance, fearfully, terribly conscious of all +that transpired around her, yet denied the power to move even a muscle +to defend herself. + +"Have you anything to say to me, Daisy?" he asked, mournfully, turning +from her to depart. + +The woful, terrified gaze of the blue eyes deepened pitifully, but she +spoke no word, and Rex turned from her--turned from the girl-bride +whom he loved so madly, with a bursting, broken heart, more bitter to +bear than death itself--left her alone with the pitying sunlight +falling upon her golden hair, and her white face turned up to heaven, +silently praying to God that she might die then and there. + +Oh, Father above, pity her! She had no mother's gentle voice to guide +her, no father's strong breast to weep upon, no sister's soothing +presence. She was so young and so pitifully lonely, and Rex had +drifted out of her life forever, believing her--oh, bitterest of +thoughts!--believing her false and sinful. + +Poor little Daisy was ignorant of the ways of the world; but a dim +realization of the full import of the terrible accusation brought +against her forced its way to her troubled brain. + +She only realized--Rex--her darling Rex, had gone out of her life +forever. + +Daisy flung herself face downward in the long, cool, waving green +grass where Rex had left her. + +"Daisy," called Miss Burton, softly, "it is all over; come into the +house, my dear." + +But she turned from her with a shuddering gasp. + +"In the name of pity, leave me to myself," she sobbed; "it is the +greatest kindness you can do me." + +And the poor old lady who had wrought so much sorrow unwittingly in +those two severed lives, walked slowly back to the cottage, with tears +in her eyes, strongly impressed there must be some dark mystery in the +young girl's life who was sobbing her heart out in the green grass +yonder; and she did just what almost any other person would have done +under the same circumstances--sent immediately for Lester Stanwick. +He answered the summons at once, listening with intense interest while +the aged spinster briefly related all that had transpired; but through +oversight or excitement she quite forgot to mention Rex had called +Daisy his wife. + +"Curse him!" he muttered, under his breath, "I--I believe the girl +actually cares for him." + +Then he went out to Daisy, lying so still and lifeless among the pink +clover and waving grass. + +Poor Daisy! Poor, desperate, lonely, struggling child! All this cruel +load of sorrow, crushing her girlish heart, and blighting her young +life, and she so innocent, so entirely blameless, yet such a plaything +of fate. + +"Daisy," he said, bending over her and lifting the slight form in his +arms, "they tell me some one has been troubling you. Who has dared +annoy you? Trust in me, Daisy. What is the matter?" + +Lester Stanwick never forgot the white, pitiful face that was raised +to his. + +"I want to die," she sobbed. "Oh, why did you not leave me to die in +the dark water? it was so cruel of you to save me." + +"Do you want to know why I risked my life to save you, Daisy? Does not +my every word and glance tell you why?" The bold glance in his eyes +spoke volumes. "Have you not guessed that I love you, Daisy?" + +"Oh, please do not talk to me in that way, Mr. Stanwick," she cried, +starting to her feet in wild alarm. "Indeed you must not," she +stammered. + +"Why not?" he demanded, a merciless smile stirring beneath his heavy +mustache. "I consider that you belong to me. I mean to make you my +wife in very truth." + +Daisy threw up her hands in a gesture of terror heart-breaking to see, +shrinking away from him in quivering horror, her sweet face ashen +pale. + +"Oh, go away, go away!" she cried out. "I am growing afraid of you. I +could never marry you, and I would not if I could. I shall always be +grateful to you for what you have done for me, but, oh, go away, and +leave me now, for my trouble is greater than I can bear!" + +"You would not if you could," he repeated, coolly, smiling so +strangely her blood seemed to change to ice in her veins. "I thank you +sincerely for your appreciation of me. I did not dream, however, your +aversion to me was so deeply rooted. That makes little difference, +however. I shall make you my wife this very day all the same; +business, urgent business, calls me away from Elmwood to-day. I shall +take you with me as my wife." + +She heard the cruel words like one in a dream. + +"Rex! Rex!" she sobbed, under her breath. Suddenly she remembered Rex +had left her--she was never to look upon his face again. He had left +her to the cold mercies of a cruel world. Poor little Daisy--the +unhappy, heart-broken girl-bride--sat there wondering what else could +happen to her. "God has shut me out from His mercy," she cried; "there +is nothing for me to do but to die." + +"I am a desperate man, Daisy," pursued Stanwick, slowly. "My will is +my law. The treatment you receive at my hands depends entirely upon +yourself--you will not dare defy me!" His eyes fairly glowed with a +strange fire that appalled her as she met his passionate glance. + +Then Daisy lifted up her golden head with the first defiance she had +ever shown, the deathly pallor deepening on her fair, sweet, +flower-like face, and the look of a hunted deer at bay in the +beautiful velvety agonized eyes, as she answered: + +"I refuse to marry you, Mr. Stanwick. Please go away and leave me in +peace." + +He laughed mockingly. + +"I shall leave you for the present, my little sweetheart," he said, +"but I shall return in exactly fifteen minutes. Hold yourself in +readiness to receive me then; I shall not come alone, but bring with +me a minister, who will be prepared to marry us. I warn you not to +attempt to run away," he said, interpreting aright the startled glance +she cast about her. "In yonder lane stands a trusty sentinel to see +that you do not leave this house. You have been guarded thus since you +entered this house; knowing your proclivity to escape impending +difficulties, I have prepared accordingly. You can not escape your +fate, my little wild flower!" + +"No minister would marry an unwilling bride--he could not. I would +fling myself at his feet and tell him all, crying out I was--I was--" + +"You will do nothing of the kind," he interrupted, a hard, resolute +look settling on his face. "I would have preferred winning you by fair +means, if possible; if you make it impossible I shall be forced to a +desperate measure. I had not intended adopting such stringent +measures, except in an extreme case. Permit me to explain what I shall +do to prevent you from making the slightest outcry." As he spoke he +drew from his pocket a small revolver heavily inlaid with pearl and +silver. "I shall simply hold this toy to your pretty forehead to +prevent a scene. The minister will be none the wiser--he is blind? Do +you think," he continued, slowly, "that I am the man to give up a +thing I have set my heart upon for a childish whim?" + +"Believe me," cried Daisy, earnestly, "it is no childish whim. Oh, Mr. +Stanwick, I want to be grateful to you--why will you torture me until +I hate you?" + +"I will marry you this very day, Daisy Brooks, whether you hate me or +love me. I have done my best to gain your love. It will come in time; +I can wait for it." + +"You will never make me love you," cried Daisy, covering her face with +her hands; "do not hope it--and the more you talk to me the less I +like you. I wish you would go away." + +"I shall not despair," said Stanwick, with a confident smile. "I like +things which I find it hard to obtain--that was always one of my +characteristics--and I never liked you so well as I like you now, in +your defiant anger, and feel more determined than ever to make you my +own." + +Suddenly a new thought occurred to him as he was about to turn from +her. + +"Why, how stupid of me!" he cried. "I could not bring the parson here, +for they think you my wife already. I must change my plan materially +by taking you to the parsonage. We can go from here directly to the +station. I shall return in exactly fifteen minutes with a conveyance. +Remember, I warn you to make no outcry for protection in the meantime. +If you do I shall say you inherited your mother's malady. I am well +acquainted with your history, you see." He kissed his finger-tips to +her carelessly. "_Au revoir_, my love, but not farewell," he said, +lightly, "until we meet to be parted nevermore," and, with a quick, +springy step Lester Stanwick walked rapidly down the clover-bordered +path on his fatal errand. + +In the distance the little babbling brook sung to her of peace and +rest beneath its curling, limpid waters. + +"Oh, mother, mother," she cried, "what was the dark sorrow that +tortured your poor brain, till it drove you mad--ay, mad--ending in +death and despair? Why did you leave your little Daisy here to suffer +so? I feel such a throbbing in my own poor brain--but I must fly +anywhere, anywhere, to escape this new sorrow. God has forgotten me." +She took one step forward in a blind, groping, uncertain way. "My last +ray of hope has died out," she cried as the memory of his cruel words +came slowly back to her, so mockingly uttered--"the minister would be +none the wiser--he is blind." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +When Lester Stanwick returned to the cottage he found that quite an +unexpected turn of events had transpired. Miss Burton had gone out to +Daisy--she lay so still and lifeless in the long green grass. + +"Heaven bless me!" she cried, in alarm, raising her voice to a pitch +that brought both of the sisters quickly to her side. "Matilda, go at +once and fetch the doctor. See, this child is ill, her cheeks are +burning scarlet and her eyes are like stars." + +At that opportune moment they espied the doctor's carriage proceeding +leisurely along the road. + +"Dear me, how lucky," cried Ruth, "Doctor West should happen along +just now. Go to the gate, quick, Matilda, and ask him to stop." + +The keen eyes of the doctor, however, had observed the figure lying on +the grass and the frantic movements of the three old ladies bending +over it, and drew rein of his own accord to see what was the matter. + +He drew back with a cry of surprise as his eyes rested on the +beautiful flushed face of the young girl lying among the blue +harebells at his feet. + +"I am afraid this is a serious case," he said, thoughtfully, placing +his cool hand on her burning forehead; "the child has all the symptoms +of brain fever in its worst form, brought on probably through some +great excitement." The three ladies looked at one another meaningly. +"She must be taken into the house and put to bed at once," he +continued, authoritatively, lifting the slight figure in his strong +arms, and gazing pityingly down upon the beautiful flushed face framed +in its sheen of golden hair resting against his broad shoulders. + +The doctor was young and unmarried and impressible; and the strangest +sensation he had ever experienced thrilled through his heart as the +blue, flaring eyes met his and the trembling red lips incoherently +beseeched him to save her, hide her somewhere, anywhere, before the +fifteen minutes were up. + +A low muttered curse burst from Stanwick's lips upon his return, as he +took in the situation at a single glance. + +As Daisy's eyes fell upon Stanwick's face she uttered a piteous little +cry: + +"Save me from him--save me!" she said, hysterically, growing rapidly +so alarmingly worse that Stanwick was forced to leave the room, +motioning the doctor to follow him into the hall. + +"The young lady is my wife," he said, with unflinching assurance, +uttering the cruel falsehood, "and we intend leaving Elmwood to-day. I +am in an uncomfortable dilemma. I must go, yet I can not leave my--my +wife. She must be removed, doctor; can you not help me to arrange it +in some way?" + +"No, sir," cried the doctor, emphatically; "she can not be removed. As +her physician, I certainly would not give my consent to such a +proceeding; her very life would pay the forfeit." + +For a few moments Lester Stanwick paced up and down the hall lost in +deep thought; his lips were firmly set, and there was a determined +gleam in his restless black eyes. Suddenly he stopped short directly +before the doctor, who stood regarding him with no very agreeable +expression in his honest gray eyes. + +"How long will it be before the crisis is past--that is, how long will +it be before she is able to be removed?" + +"Not under three weeks," replied the doctor, determinedly. + +"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, sharply. "Why, I shall have to--" He +bit his lip savagely, as if he had been on the point of disclosing +some guarded secret. "Fate is against me," he said, "in more ways than +one; these things can not be avoided, I suppose. Well, doctor, as I am +forced to leave to-day I shall leave her in your charge. I will return +in exactly two weeks. She has brain fever, you say?" + +The doctor nodded. + +"You assure me she can not leave her bed for two weeks to come?" he +continued, anxiously. + +"I can safely promise that," replied the doctor, wondering at the +strange, satisfied smile that flitted like a meteor over his +companion's face for one brief instant. + +"This will defray her expenses in the meantime," he said, putting a +few crisp bank-notes into the doctor's hand. "See that she has every +luxury." + +He was about to re-enter the room where Daisy lay, but the doctor held +him back. + +"I should advise you to remain away for the present," he said, "your +presence produces such an unpleasant effect upon her. Wait until she +sleeps." + +"I have often thought it so strange people in delirium shrink so from +those they love best; I can not understand it," said Stanwick, with an +odd, forced laugh. "As you are the doctor, I suppose your orders must +be obeyed, however. If the fever should happen to take an unfavorable +turn in the meantime, please drop a line to my address, 'care of Miss +Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, Allendale,'" he said, extending +his card. "It will be forwarded to me promptly, and I can come on at +once." + +Again the doctor nodded, putting the card safely away in his wallet, +and soon after Lester Stanwick took his departure, roundly cursing his +luck, yet congratulating himself upon the fact that Daisy could not +leave Elmwood--he could rest content on that score. + +Meanwhile the three venerable sisters and the young doctor were +watching anxiously at Daisy's bedside. + +"Oh, my poor little dear--my pretty little dear!" sobbed Ruth, +caressing the burning little hands that clung to her so tightly. + +"Won't you hide me?" pleaded Daisy, laying her hot cheek against the +wrinkled hand that held hers. "Hide me, please, just as if I were your +own child; I have no mother, you know." + +"God help the pretty, innocent darling!" cried the doctor, turning +hastily away to hide the suspicious moisture that gathered in his +eyes. "No one is going to harm you, little one," he said, soothingly; +"no one shall annoy you." + +"Was it so great a sin? He would not let me explain. He has gone out +of my life!" she wailed, pathetically, putting back the golden rings +of hair from her flushed face. "Rex! Rex!" she sobbed, incoherently, +"I shall die--or, worse, I shall go mad, if you do not come back to +me!" + +The three ladies looked at one another questioningly, in alarm. + +"You must not mind the strange ravings of a person in delirium," said +the doctor, curtly; "they are liable to imagine and say all sorts of +nonsense. Pay no attention to what she says, my dear ladies; don't +disturb her with questions. That poor little brain needs absolute +rest; every nerve seems to have been strained to its utmost." + +After leaving the proper medicines and giving minute instructions as +to how and when it should be administered, Dr. West took his +departure, with a strange, vague uneasiness at his heart. + +"Pshaw!" he muttered to himself, as he drove briskly along the shadowy +road, yet seeing none of its beauty, "how strange it is these young +girls will fall in love and marry such fellows as that!" he mused. +"There is something about his face that I don't like; he is a +scoundrel, and I'll bet my life on it!" + +The doctor brought his fist down on his knee with such a resounding +blow that poor old Dobbin broke into a gallop. But, drive as fast he +would, he could not forget the sweet, childish face that had taken +such a strong hold upon his fancy. The trembling red lips and pleading +blue eyes haunted him all the morning, as though they held some secret +they would fain have whispered. + +All the night long Daisy clung to the hands that held hers, begging +and praying her not to leave her alone, until the poor old lady was +quite overcome by the fatigue of continued watching beside her couch. +Rest or sleep seemed to have fled from Daisy's bright, restless eyes. + +"Don't go away," she cried; "everybody goes away. I do not belong to +any one. I am all--all--alone," she would sigh, drearily. + +Again she fancied she was with Rex, standing beneath the magnolia +boughs in the sunshine; again, she was clinging to his arm--while some +cruel woman insulted her--sobbing pitifully upon his breast; again, +she was parting from him at the gate, asking him if what they had done +was right; then she was in some school-room, begging piteously for +some cruel letter; then out on the waves in the storm and the +on-coming darkness of night. + +The sisters relieved one another at regular intervals. They had ceased +to listen to her pathetic little appeals for help, or the wild cries +of agony that burst from the red feverish lips as she started up from +her slumbers with stifled sobs, moaning out that the time was flying; +that she must escape anywhere, anywhere, while there were still +fifteen minutes left her. + +She never once mentioned Stanwick's name, or Septima's, but called +incessantly for Rex and poor old Uncle John. + +"Who in the world do you suppose Rex is?" said Matilda, thoughtfully. +"That name is continually on her lips--the last word she utters when +she closes her eyes, the first word to cross her lips when she awakes. +That must certainly be the handsome young fellow she met at the gate. +If he is Rex I do not wonder the poor child loved him so. He was the +handsomest, most noble-looking, frank-faced young man I have ever +seen; and he took on in a way that made me actually cry when I told +him she was married. He would not believe it, until I called the child +and she told him herself it was the truth. I was sorry from the bottom +of my heart that young fellow had not won her instead of this +Stanwick, they were so suited to each other." + +"Ah," said Ruth, after a moment's pause, "I think I have the key to +this mystery. She loves this handsome Rex, that is evident; perhaps +they have had a lovers' quarrel, and she has married this one on the +spur of the moment through pique. Oh, the pretty little dear!" sighed +Ruth. "I hope she will never rue it." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Slowly the days came and went for the next fortnight. The crisis had +passed, and Dr. West said she would soon recover. The beautiful, long, +golden hair had been shorn from the pretty little head, and the +rose-bloom had died out of the pretty cheeks, but the bright, restless +light never left the beautiful blue eyes--otherwise there was but +little change in Daisy. + +It had been just two weeks that morning, they told her, as she opened +her eyes to consciousness, since she had first been stricken down. + +"And I have been here ever since?" she inquired, wonderingly. + +"Yes, my dear," replied Ruth Burton, softly patting the thin white +cheeks; "of course you have been here ever since. I am afraid we are +going to lose you soon, however. We have received a letter from your +husband, saying he will be here some time to-morrow. Shall you be +pleased to see him, dear?" + +In one single instant all the dim, horrible past rushed back to Daisy's +mind. She remembered flinging herself down in the clover-scented +grass, and the world growing dark around her, as the terrible words of +Stanwick rang in her ears--he would be back in just fifteen minutes to +claim her. + +Ah, bonny little Daisy, tossing on your pillow, babbling empty +nothings, better would it have been for you, perhaps, if you had +dropped the weary burden of your life into the kindly arms of death +then and there than to struggle onward into the dark mystery which lay +entombed in your future. + +"Shall you be glad to see Mr. Stanwick, dear?" repeated the old lady, +and, unconscious of any wrong, she placed the letter he had written in +Daisy's hands. Like one in a terrible dream, Daisy read it quite +through to the end. "You see, he says he incloses fifty dollars extra +for you, dear. I have placed it with the twenty safe in your little +purse." + +"Oh, Miss Ruth, you are so very kind to me. I shall never forget how +good you have all been to me," said Daisy, softly, watching the three +peaceful-faced old ladies, who had drawn their rocking-chairs, as was +their custom, all in a row, and sat quietly knitting in the sunshine, +the gentle click of their needles falling soothingly upon Daisy's +poor, tired brain. + +"We shall miss you sadly when you go," said Ruth, knitting away +vigorously. "You have been like a ray of sunshine in this gloomy old +house. We have all learned to love you very dearly." + +"You love me?" repeated Daisy, wonderingly. "I was beginning to +believe every one hated me in the whole world, every one has been so +bitter and so cruel with me, except poor old Uncle John. I often +wonder why God lets me live--what am I to do with my life! Mariana in +the moated grange, was not more to be pitied than I. Death relieved +her, but I am left to struggle on." + +"Heaven hear her!" cried Ruth. "One suffers a great deal to lose all +interest in life. You are so young, dear, you could not have suffered +much." + +"I have lost all I hold dear in life," she answered, pathetically, +lifting her beautiful, childish blue eyes toward the white fleecy +clouds tinted by the setting sun. + +Their hearts ached for the pretty, lonely little creature. They +believed she was thinking of her mother. So she was--and of Rex, the +handsome young husband whom she so madly idolized in her worshipful +childish fashion, who was worse than dead to her--the husband who +should have believed in her honor and purity, though the world had +cried out to him that she was false. He had thrust aside all +possibility of her writing to him; cast her out from his life; left +her to be persecuted beyond all endurance; bound by a vow she dare not +break to keep her marriage with Rex a secret. Though he was more cruel +than death, she loved Rex with a devotion that never faltered. + +Daisy lay there, thinking of it all, while the soft, golden sunlight +died out of the sky, and the deep dusk of twilight crept softly on. + +Then the old ladies arose from their chairs, folded their knitting, +and put it away. Dusk was their hour for retiring. + +They were discussing which one should sit up with Daisy, when she +summoned them all to her bedside. + +"I want you all to go to bed and never mind me," coaxed Daisy, with a +strange light in her eyes. "Take a good sleep, as I am going to do. I +shall be very happy to-morrow--happier than I have ever been before!" + +She clasped her white arms about their necks in turn, clinging to +them, and sobbing as though she was loath to part with them. + +Ruth's hand she held last and longest. + +"Please kiss me again," she sobbed. "Clasp your arms tight around me, +and say 'Good-night, Daisy.' It will be so nice to dream about." + +With a cheery laugh the old lady lovingly complied with her request. + +"You must close those bright little eyes of yours, and drift quickly +into the Land of Nod, or there will be no roses in these cheeks +to-morrow. Good-night, my pretty little dear!" + +"Good-night, dear, kind Ruth!" sighed Daisy. + +And she watched the old lady with wistful, hungry eyes as she picked +up her shaded night-lamp, that threw such a soft, sweet radiance over +her aged face, as she quietly quitted the room. + +A sudden change came over Daisy's face as the sound of her footsteps +died away in the hall. + +"Oh, God! help me!" she cried, piteously, struggling to her feet. "I +must be far away from here when daylight breaks." + +She was so weak she almost fell back on her bed again when she +attempted to rise. The thought of the morrow lent strength to her +flagging energies. A strange mist seemed rising before her. Twice she +seemed near fainting, but her indomitable courage kept her from +sinking, as she thought of what the morrow would have in store for +her. + +Quietly she counted over the little store in her purse by the moon's +rays. + +"Seventy dollars! Oh, I could never use all that in my life!" she +cried. "Besides, I could never touch one cent of Stanwick's money. It +would burn my fingers--I am sure it would!" + +Folding the bill carefully in two she placed it beneath her little +snowy ruffled pillow. Then catching up the thick, dark shawl which lay +on an adjacent table, she wrapped it quickly about her. She opened the +door leading out into the hall, and listened. All was still--solemnly +still. + +Daisy crept softly down the stairs, and out into the quiet beauty of +the still, summer night. + +"Rex," she wailed, softly, "perhaps when I am dead you will feel sorry +for poor little Daisy, and some one may tell you how you have wronged +me in your thoughts, but you would not let me tell you how it +happened!" + +In the distance she saw the shimmer of water lying white and still +under the moon's rays, tipped by the silvery light of the stars. + +"No, not that way," she cried, with a shudder; "some one might save +me, and I want to die!" + +In the distance the red and colored gleaming lights of an apothecary's +shop caught her gaze. + +"Yes, that way will be best," she said, reflectively. + +She drew the shawl closer about her, pressing on as rapidly as her +feeble little feet would carry her. How weak she was when she turned +the knob and entered--the very lights seemed dancing around her. + +A small, keen-eyed, shrewd little man stepped briskly forward to wait +upon her. He started back in horror at the utter despair and woe in +the beautiful young face that was turned for a moment toward him, +beautiful in all its pallor as a statue, with a crown of golden hair +such as pictures of angels wear encircling the perfect head. + +"What can I do for you, miss?" queried the apothecary, gazing +searchingly into the beautiful dreamy blue eyes raised up to his and +wondering who she could possibly be. + +"I wish to purchase some laudanum," Daisy faltered. "I wish it to +relieve a pain which is greater than I can bear." + +"Toothache, most probably?" intimated the brisk little doctor. "I know +what it is. Lord bless you! I've had it until I thought I should jump +through the roof. Laudanum's a first-class thing, but I can tell you +of something better--jerk 'em out, that's my recipe," he said, with an +odd little smile. "Of course every one to their notion, and if you say +laudanum--and nothing else--why it's laudanum you shall have; but +remember it's powerful. Why, ten drops of it would cause--death." + +"How many drops did you say?" asked Daisy, bending forward eagerly. +"I--I want to be careful in taking it." + +"Ten drops, I said, would poison a whole family, and twenty a +regiment. You must use it very carefully, miss. Remember I have warned +you," he said, handing her the little bottle filled with a dark liquid +and labeled conspicuously, "Laudanum--a poison." + +"Please give me my change quickly," she said, a strange, deadly +sickness creeping over her. + +"Certainly, ma'am," assented the obliging little man, handing her back +the change. + +Daisy quite failed to notice that he returned her the full amount she +had paid him in his eagerness to oblige her, and he went happily back +to compounding his drugs in the rear part of the shop, quite +unconscious he was out the price of the laudanum. + +He was dreaming of the strange beauty of the young girl, and the smile +deepened on his good-humored face as he remembered how sweetly she had +gazed up at him. + +Meanwhile Daisy struggled on, clasping her treasure close to her +throbbing heart. She remembered Ruth had pointed out an old shaft to +her from her window; it had been unused many years, she had said. + +"The old shaft shall be my tomb," she said; "no one will think of +looking for me there." + +Poor little Daisy--unhappy girl-bride, let Heaven not judge her +harshly--she was sorely tried. + +"Mother, mother!" she sobbed, in a dry, choking voice, "I can not live +any longer. I am not taking the life God gave me, I am only returning +it to Him. This is the only crime I have ever committed, mother, and +man will forget it, and God will forgive me. You must plead for me, +angel-mother. Good-bye, dear, kind Uncle John, your love never failed +me, and Rex--oh, Rex--whom I love best of all, you will not know how I +loved you. Oh, my love--my lost love--I shall watch over you up +there!" she moaned, "and come to you in your dreams! Good-bye, Rex, my +love, my husband!" she sobbed, holding the fatal liquid to her parched +lips. + +The deep yawning chasm lay at her feet. Ten--ay, eleven drops she +hastily swallowed. Then with one last piteous appeal to Heaven for +forgiveness, poor, helpless little Daisy closed her eyes and sprung +into the air. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +A strong hand drew Daisy quickly back. + +"Rash child! What is this that you would do?" cried an eager, earnest +voice, and, turning quickly about, speechless with fright, Daisy met +the stern eyes of the apothecary bent searchingly, inquiringly upon +her. + +"It means that I am tired of life," she replied, desperately. "My life +is so full of sadness it will be no sorrow to leave it. I wanted to +rest quietly down there, but you have held me back; it is useless to +attempt to save me now. I have already swallowed a portion of the +laudanum. Death must come to relieve me soon. It would be better to +let me die down there where no one could have looked upon my face +again." + +"I had no intention to let you die so easily," said the apothecary, +softly. "I read your thoughts too plainly for that. I did not give you +laudanum, but a harmless mixture instead, and followed you to see if +my surmise was correct. You are young and fair--surely life could not +have lost all hope and sunshine for you?" + +"You do not know all," said Daisy, wearily, "or you would not have +held me back. I do not know of another life so utterly hopeless as my +own." + +The good man looked at the sweet, innocent, beautiful face, upon which +the starlight fell, quite bewildered and thoughtful. + +"I should like to know what your trouble is," he said, gently. + +"I could tell you only one half of it," she replied, wearily. "I have +suffered much, and yet through no fault of my own. I am cast off, +deserted, condemned to a loveless, joyless life; my heart is broken; +there is nothing left me but to die. I repeat that it is a sad fate." + +"It is indeed," replied the apothecary, gravely. "Yet, alas! not an +uncommon one. Are you quite sure that nothing can remedy it?" + +"Quite sure," replied Daisy, hopelessly. "My doom is fixed; and no +matter how long I live, or how long he lives, it can never be +altered." + +The apothecary was uncomfortable without knowing why, haunted by a +vague, miserable suspicion, which poor Daisy's words secretly +corroborated; yet it seemed almost a sin to harbor one suspicion +against the purity of the artless little creature before him. He +looked into the fresh young face. There was no cloud on it, no guilt +lay brooding in the clear, truthful blue eyes. He never dreamed little +Daisy was a wife. "Why did he not love her?" was the query the +apothecary asked himself over and over again; "she is so young, so +loving, and so fair. He has cast her off, this man to whom she has +given the passionate love of her young heart." + +"You see you did wrong to hold me back," she said, gently. "How am I +to live and bear this sorrow that has come upon me? What am I to do?" + +She looked around her with the bewildered air of one who had lost her +way, with the dazed appearance of one from beneath whose feet the bank +of safety has been withdrawn. Hope was dead, and the past a blank. + +"No matter what your past has been, my poor child, you must remember +there is a future. Take up the burden again, and bear it nobly; go +back to your home, and commence life anew." + +"I have no home and no friends," she sighed, hopelessly. + +"Poor child," he said, pityingly, "is it as bad as that?" + +A sudden idea seemed to occur to him. + +"You are a perfect stranger to me," he said, "but I believe you to be +an honorable girl, and I should like to befriend you, as I would pray +Heaven to befriend a daughter of mine if she were similarly situated. +If I should put you in a way of obtaining your own living as companion +to an elderly lady in a distant city, would you be willing to take up +the tangled threads of your life again, and wait patiently until God +saw fit to call you--that is, you would never attempt to take your +life into your own hands again?" he asked, slowly. "Remember, such an +act is murder, and a murderer can not enter the kingdom of heaven." + +He never forgot the startled, frightened glance that swept over the +beautiful face, plainly discernible in the white moonlight, nor the +quiver of the sweet, tremulous voice as Daisy answered: + +"I think God must have intended me to live, or He would not have sent +you here to save me," she answered, impulsively. "Twice I have been +near death, and each time I have been rescued. I never attempted to +take my own life but this once. I shall try and accept my fate and +live out my weary life." + +"Bravely spoken, my noble girl," replied her rescuer, heartily. + +"I must go far away from here, though," she continued, shuddering; "I +am sorely persecuted here." + +The old man listened gravely to her disconnected, incoherent words, +drawing but one conclusion from them--"the lover who had cast her off +was pursuing the child, as her relentless foe, to the very verge of +death and despair." + +"It is my sister who wants a companion," he said. "She lives in the +South--in Florida. Do you think you would like to go as far away as +that?" + +"Yes," said Daisy, mechanically. "I should like to go to the furthest +end of the world. It does not matter much where I go!" + +How little she knew where fate was drifting her! Rex had not told her +his home was in Florida; he meant to tell her that on the morning he +was to have met her. + +"It will be a long, wearisome journey for you to undertake, still I +feel sure you are brave enough to accomplish it in safety." + +"I thank you very much for your confidence in me, sir," said Daisy, +simply. + +"Tut, tut, child!" exclaimed the old man, brusquely. "That innocent +little face of yours ought to be a passport to any one's confidence. I +don't think there's any doubt but what you will get on famously with +Maria--that's my sister Mrs. Glenn--but she's got three daughters that +would put an angel's temper on edge. They're my nieces--more's the +pity, for they are regular Tartars. Mrs. Glenn sent for my daughter +Alice to come down there; but, Lord bless you, I wouldn't dare send +her! There would be a raging quarrel before twenty-four hours! My +Alice has got a temper of her own. But, pshaw! I ought not to frighten +you, my dear; they could not help but love _you_." + +And thus it was Daisy's fate was unchangeably settled for her. + +"There is one thing I would like you to promise me," she said, +timidly, "and that is never to divulge my whereabouts to any one who +might come in search of me. I must remain dead to the world forever; I +shall never take up the old life again. They must believe me dead." + +Argument and persuasion alike were useless; and, sorely troubled at +heart, the apothecary reluctantly consented. Poor little Daisy +impulsively caught him by both hands, and gratefully sobbed out her +thanks. + +The arrangements were soon completed, and before the gray dawn pierced +the darkness of the eastern sky poor little Daisy was whirling rapidly +away from Elmwood. + +The consternation and excitement which prevailed at the Burton Cottage +when Daisy's absence was discovered can better be imagined than +described; or the intense anger of Stanwick upon finding Daisy had +eluded him. + +"Checkmated!" he cried, white to the very lips. "But she shall not +escape me; she shall suffer for this freak. I am not a man to be +trifled with. She can not have gone far," he assured himself. "In all +probability she has left Elmwood; but if by rail or by water I can +easily recapture my pretty bird. Ah, Daisy Brooks!" he muttered, "you +can not fly away from your fate; it will overtake you sooner or +later." + +Some hours after Stanwick had left the cottage, an old man toiled +wearily up the grass-grown path. + +"Oh, poor little Daisy," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes with +his old red and white cotton kerchief; "no matter what you have done +I will take you back to my heart--that I will!" + +He clutched the letter Mme. Whitney had written him close in his +toil-hardened hand. The letter simply told him Daisy had fled from the +seminary, and she had every reason to believe she was now in Elmwood. +He had received the letter while in New York, and hastily proceeded to +Elmwood, the station indicated, at once, without stopping over at +Allendale to acquaint Septima with the news. + +"She shall never be sent off to school again," he commented; "but she +shall stop at home. Poor little pet, she was always as happy as the +day was long; she sha'n't have book-learning if she don't want it. I +am too hard, I s'pose, with the child in sending her off among these +primpy city gals, with their flounces and furbelows, with only three +plain muslin frocks. The dickens fly away with the book-learnin'; I +like her all the better just as she is, bless her dear little heart! +I'm after little Daisy Brooks," he said, bowing to the ladies who met +him at the door. "I heard she was here--run away from school, you see, +ma'am--but I'll forgive the little gypsy. Tell her old Uncle John is +here. She'll be powerful glad to see me." + +Slowly and gently they broke to him the cruel story. How the dark, +handsome stranger had brought her there in the storm and the night; +and they could not refuse her shelter; the gentleman claimed her to be +his wife; of her illness which culminated in her disappearance. + +They never forgot the white, set face turned toward them. The veins +stood out like cords on his forehead, and the perspiration rolled down +his pallid cheeks in great quivering beads. This heart-rending, silent +emotion was more terrible to witness than the most violent paroxysms +of grief. Strangely enough they had quite forgotten to mention Rex's +visit. + +"You don't know how I loved that child," he cried, brokenly. "She was +all I had to love in the whole world, and I set such store by her, but +Stanwick shall pay dearly for this," he cried, hoarsely. "I shall +never rest day or night until my little Daisy's honor is avenged, so +help me God! You think she is dead?" he questioned, looking brokenly +from the one to the other. + +They only nodded their heads; they could not speak through their +sobs. + +At that moment several of the neighbors who were assisting in the +search were seen coming toward the cottage. + +They gathered in a little knot by the garden wall. With a heart +heavier than lead in his bosom John Brooks went forward to meet them. + +"You haven't got any track of my little Daisy?" he asked, despondingly. +The men averted their faces. "For God's sake speak out, my men!" he +cried, in agony; "I can't stand this suspense." + +"There are footprints in the wet grass down yonder," one of them +replied; "and they lead straight down to the old shaft. Do you think +your girl has made away with herself?" + +A gray, ghastly pallor settled over John Brooks' anguished face. + +"The Lord knows! All of you stay here while I go down there and look. +If I should find anything there I'd rather be alone." + +There was a depth of agony in the man's voice that touched his +hearers, and more than one coat-sleeve was drawn hastily across +sympathetic eyes as they whispered one to the other he would surely +find her there. + +John Brooks had reached the very mouth of the pit now, and through the +branches of the trees the men saw him suddenly spring forward, and +stoop as if to pick up something, and bitter cries rent the stillness +of the summer morning. + +"Daisy! oh, Daisy! my child, my child!" + +Then they saw him fall heavily to the ground on the very brink of the +shaft. + +"I guess he's found her!" cried the sympathizing men. "Let us go and +see." + +They found John Brooks insensible, lying prone on his face, grasping a +tiny little glove in one hand, and in the other a snowy little +handkerchief, which bore, in one corner, worked in fanciful design, +the name of "Daisy." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Glengrove was one of the most beautiful spots in the south of +Florida. The house--similar to many in the South in style of +architecture--stood in the midst of charming grounds which were +filled with flowers. To the left of the house was a large shrubbery +which opened on to a wide carriage-drive leading to the main road, +but the principal attraction of Glengrove was its magnificent +orange grove, where the brilliant sunshine loved to linger longest +among the dark-green boughs, painting the luscious fruit with its +own golden coloring--from green to gold. A low stone wall divided +it from the beach which led to the sea. + +It was early morning. In an elegant boudoir, whose oriel window +overlooked the garden, sat three young ladies, respectively, Bessie +Glenn, two-and-twenty; Gertie Glenn, twenty; and Eve Glenn, +eighteen--all dark-eyed, dark-haired, and handsome, yet each of a +distinct different type. + +"I declare, Bess," cried Gertie, indignantly, twisting the telegram +she held in her hand into a wisp, "it's from Uncle Jet! Guess what he +says!" + +"I couldn't possibly," yawns Bess, from the depths of her easy-chair; +"it's too much trouble." + +"Is it about Alice?" questioned Eve, maliciously. + +"Yes," replied Gertie; "but you are to try and guess what it is." + +"Why, I suppose some stranger has chanced to flutter down into the +quiet little village of Elmwood, and Alice thinks it her duty to stay +there and capture him." + +"That isn't it at all," snapped Gertie. "Uncle Jet says Alice can not +come; but he has taken the liberty of sending another young lady in +her stead, and hopes Miss Daisy Brooks will be the right person in the +right place. She will arrive on the twentieth, at nine A. M." + +Eve jumped to her feet in actual astonishment, and even Bessie dropped +her novel, with widely opened eyes. + +"Just fancy some tall, gaunt old maid of a companion, with such a +name!" she cried, raising her eyebrows and picking up her book again. +"I think you will find the daisy a rather ancient and faded flower." + +"She couldn't be anything else," assented Gertie. + +"Wouldn't it be fun if she should turn out to be young and pretty, and +take the shine off both of you?" laughed Eve, puckering up her mouth. +"I would enjoy it immensely!" + +"Eve, will you hold your tongue?" commanded Bessie, sharply. + +"You'd better hold your temper!" retorted Eve. + +"Pshaw! what's the use of being so silly as to quarrel over a Miss +Nobody?" cried Gertie, stamping her pretty slippered foot. "Guess what +else is the news." + +"Haven't I told you I despise guessing?" cried Bess, angrily. "It is +not good form to insist upon a person's guessing--please remember +it." + +"Write it down on ice," said Eve, _sotto voce_, mimicking her elder +sister's tone. + +"Well," said Gertie, with a look of triumph, "I drove over to Mrs. +Lyon's yesterday to see how everything was progressing for that +contemplated marriage, and, lo! she informs me the wedding is +postponed for the present, and Rex--handsome Rex--is coming home +alone." + +"No--o!" cried both the sisters in chorus. + +Bess sat bolt upright, and Eve danced around the room clapping her +hands. + +"I don't think much of a marriage which has been postponed," said +Bess, a bright spot glowing on both of her cheeks. "Who knows but what +one of us may have a chance of winning handsome Rex Lyon, after all? +He is certainly a golden prize!" + +"'Don't count the chickens,' etc.," quoted Eve, saucily. + +"Gertrude!" said Bess, severely, "you will learn after awhile never to +speak before Eve. She is as liable to do mischief as her namesake was +in the Garden of Eden." + +"You ought never to go back on your own sex," retorted Eve, banging +the door after her as she quitted the room, Rover, an ugly-looking +mastiff, closely following at her heels. + +"That is certainly an astonishing piece of news," said Bess, +reflectively, smoothing out the folds of her white cashmere morning +wrapper. "Now, here's a plan for you, Gertie. Find out his address in +some way, and we will write to him on some pretext or other. Rex has +probably quarreled with the haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, and +one of us ought certainly to catch his heart in the rebound. Send him +an invitation to your birthday party, Gertie." + +"I would be more likely to succeed than you, Bess," said Gertie, +rocking complacently to and fro, and looking maliciously at her +sister. "You remember he once remarked he did not like tall ladies, +and you are certainly tall, Bess." + +"Well, I'd rather be tall and willowy and graceful, than short and fat +and dumpy," jerked out Bess, spitefully. + +"What! at swords' points yet, eh? Ha, ha, ha!" cried Eve, suddenly, +popping her head in at the door. "I'll be back after awhile to see +which one of you gets the best of it." + +Before either of the sisters had time to reply, the family carriage +dashed suddenly up to the porch, and a moment later a slight, +dark-robed little figure was ushered into their presence. + +"This is Miss Brooks, mum," said Jim, the coachman, addressing the +elder sister. + +"I'd like to know why you have brought her in here?" cried Bess, +angrily. "Why did you not take her into the servants' hall or into the +kitchen?" + +But Jim had disappeared. + +"Well, now that you are here, you might sit down," suggested Gertie, +wondering what kind of a face was hid behind the long, thick, clinging +veil. "You may lay aside your bonnet and veil." + +Trembling and sick at heart with the cold greeting which had been +given her, Daisy did as she was bid. + +"Why, I declare, you are younger than I am!" cried Eve, impulsively. +"We were all expecting to see a wrinkled, dried-up old maid. Why, +you'd make a much better companion for me than for mother." + +"E--v--e!" cried the elder Miss Glenn, severely, "be kind enough to +leave the room." + +"I sha'n't go one step until I have had my say out," cried Eve, +planting herself firmly down on a hassock in the middle of the floor. +"Nobody likes me because I'm rude and free-spoken," declared Eve, +addressing Daisy; "but I believe in letting people know just what I am +to begin with. I'm not one of these sleek, smooth, tigery creatures +that hide their claws under velvet-paws. We are three model sisters," +she went on, recklessly; "we have tremendous spats--when we are here +alone; but if a visitor happens in we all sit with our arms around one +another, 'just to have the appearance' of affection, you know." + +The elder Miss Glenn arose with dignity, motioning Daisy to follow +her. + +"Papa will see you later, Eve, dear," she said, with a baleful glitter +in her sloe-black eyes; and as Daisy followed her she could not help +but compare her with Pluma Hurlhurst, with that treacherous, mocking +smile playing about her full, red lips--and quite unconsciously poor +little Daisy fell to thinking. + +"Rex will go back to Pluma Hurlhurst now," she thought, with a bitter +sigh. "He has cast me out of his life; he will go back and marry +her." + +Poor, innocent Daisy, how little she knew of life or the insurmountable +barrier which lay between the haughty, scheming heiress and Rex--her +husband! + +"I was asking you if you resided in Elmwood, Miss Brooks," said Bess, +raising her voice. "I have asked you twice." + +"I beg your pardon; please forgive me," said Daisy, flushing +painfully. "I--I was not aware you had spoken. No, I lived near +Elmwood--between there and Baltimore." + +Daisy was sorely afraid Miss Glenn would ask her to name the exact +location. She did not, however, much to Daisy's relief. By this time +they had reached the door of Mrs. Glenn's room, and as it was +slightly ajar Bessie pushed it open without further ceremony and +entered. + +"Has Miss Brooks come yet?" asked a thin, querulous voice. + +"Yes," answered Bessie; "here she is, mamma." + +The room was so dark Daisy could scarcely distinguish the different +objects for a moment or so. She saw, however, a dark figure on a couch +and a white jeweled hand waving a fan indolently to and fro. A sudden +impulse came over Daisy to turn and run away, but by a great effort +she controlled her feelings. + +"Step forward, if you please, Miss Brooks. I can not observe you well +at such a distance; do not tread on the poodle on the rug or brush +against the bric-à-brac placed indiscriminately about the room." + +"Oh, dear, if there were only a light," thought Daisy, in dismay. She +was afraid of taking a single step for fear some of the bric-à-brac +mentioned, either at the right or left of her, should come crashing +down under her blundering little feet. + +"I always exclude the broad glare of early morning light, as I find it +especially trying." + +As she spoke she threw back one of the shutters with the end of her +fan, and a warm flood of invigorating sunshine poured into the room. + +"Dear me," she cried, staring hard at the beautiful little face before +her. "Why, you are a child, scarcely older than my Eve. What could +that stupid brother of mine mean by sending you to me? I have a notion +to send you back again directly." + +"Oh, please do not, madame," cried Daisy, piteously. "Only try me +first; I will do my very best to please you." + +"But I did not want a young person," expostulated Mrs. Glenn. + +"But you sent for Alice, his daughter, and--and he thought I would do +as well," faltered Daisy, timidly. + +"Alice Jet is over forty, and you are not more than sixteen, I should +judge. How did you happen to think you could do as well as she?" + +The color came and went on Daisy's pretty flower-like face, and her +heart throbbed pitifully. + +"I am not so very wise or learned," she said, "but I should try so +hard to please you, if you will only let me try." + +"I suppose, now that you are here, we will have to make the best of +it," replied Mrs. Glenn, condescendingly. + +The fair beauty of the young girl's face did not please her. + +"I have always dreaded fair women," she thought to herself, "they are +the most dangerous of rivals. If she stays at Glengrove I shall see +she is kept well in the background." + +While in the morning-room below the three girls were discussing the +new turn of affairs vigorously. + +"I am determined she shall not remain here," Bessie Glenn was saying. + +"I heartily indorse your opinion," said Gertie, slowly. + +And for once in her life the tongue of reckless Eve was silent. She +looked thoughtfully out of the window. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +The first week of Daisy's stay at Glengrove passed quickly. She was +beginning to feel quite at home with Mrs. Glenn and Eve, but Bessie +and Gertie held aloof from her. She was beginning to believe she never +would be able to win her way to their hearts. Eve--warm-hearted, +impulsive Eve--took to her at once. + +"You are just the kind of a girl I like, Daisy," said Eve, twirling +one of her soft gold curls caressingly around her finger; "and if I +were a handsome young man, instead of a girl, I should fall +straightway in love with you. Why, what are you blushing so for?" +cried Eve. "Don't you like to talk about love and lovers?" + +"No," said Daisy, in a low voice, a distressed look creeping into her +blue eyes. "If you please, Eve, I'd rather not talk about such +things." + +"You are certainly a funny girl," said Eve, wonderingly. "Why, do you +know all the handsome young fellows around here have fallen deeply in +love with you, and have just been besieging both Bess and Gertie for +an introduction to you." + +No laughing rejoinder came from Daisy's red lips. There was an anxious +look in her eyes. Ah! this, then, accounted for the growing coldness +with which the two sisters greeted her. + +"You do not seem enough interested to even ask who they are," said +Eve, disappointedly. "I suppose you have never heard we have some +of the handsomest gentlemen around here to be met with in the +whole South--or in the North either, for that matter," said Eve, +enthusiastically. "Wait until you have seen some of them." + +How little she knew the girl's heart and soul was bound up in Rex, +whom she told herself she was never again to see. + +"Do you see that large gray, stone house yonder, whose turrets you +can just see beyond those trees?" asked Eve, suddenly, a mischievous +light dancing in her merry hazel eyes. + +"Yes," replied Daisy. "I have a fine view of it from my window +upstairs. I have seen a little child swinging to and fro in a hammock +beneath the trees. Poor little thing, she uses a crutch. Is she +lame?" + +"Yes," replied Eve, "that's little Birdie; she's lame. I do not want +to talk about her but about her brother. Oh, he is perfectly +splendid!" declared Eve, enthusiastically, "and rich, too. Why, he +owns I don't know how many cotton plantations and orange groves, and +he is--oh--so handsome! You must take care you do not fall in love +with him. All the girls do. If you did not, you would be a great +exception; you could scarcely help caring for him, he is so winning +and so nice," said Eve, blushing furiously. + +How poor little Daisy's heart longed for sympathy and consolation! Oh, +if she only dared tell Eve the great hidden sorrow that seemed eating +her heart away! She felt that she must unburden her heart to some one, +or it must surely break. + +"Eve," she said, her little hands closing softly over the restless +brown one drumming a tattoo on the window-sill, and her golden head +drooping so close to Eve's, her curls mingled with her dark locks, "I +could never love any one in this world again. I loved once--it was the +sweetest, yet the most bitter, experience of my life. The same voice +that spoke tender words to me cruelly cast me from him. Yet I love him +still with all my heart. Do not talk to me of love, or lovers, Eve, I +can not bear it. The world will never hold but one face for me, and +that is the face of him who is lost to me forever." + +"Oh, how delightfully romantic!" cried Eve. "I said to myself over and +over again there was some mystery in your life. I have seen such +strange shadows in your eyes, and your voice often had the sound of +tears in it. I do wish I could help you in some way," said Eve, +thoughtfully. "I'd give the world to set the matter straight for you. +What's his name, and where does he live?" + +"I can not tell you," said Daisy, shaking her golden curls sadly. + +"Oh, dear! then I do not see how I can help you," cried Eve. + +"You can not," replied Daisy; "only keep my secret for me." + +"I will," she cried, earnestly. + +And as they parted, Eve resolved in her own mind to bring this truant +lover of Daisy's back to his old allegiance; but the first and most +important step was to discover his name. + +Eve went directly to her own room, her brain whirling with a new plan, +which she meant to put into execution at once, while Daisy strolled on +through the grounds, choosing the less frequented paths. She wanted to +be all alone by herself to have a good cry. Somehow she felt so much +better for having made a partial confidante of Eve. + +The sun was beginning to sink in the west; still Daisy walked on, +thinking of Rex. A little shrill piping voice falling suddenly upon +her ears caused her to stop voluntarily. + +"Won't you please reach me my hat and crutch? I have dropped them on +your side of the fence." + +Daisy glanced around, wondering in which direction the voice came +from. + +"I am sitting on the high stone wall; come around on the other side of +that big tree and you will see me." + +The face that looked down into Daisy's almost took her breath away for +a single instant, it was so like Rex's. + +A bright, winning, childish face, framed in a mass of dark nut-brown +curls, and the brownest of large brown eyes. + +"Certainly," said Daisy, stooping down with a strange unexplainable +thrill at her heart and picking up the wide-brimmed sun-hat and +crutch, which was unfortunately broken by the fall. + +A low cry burst from the child's lips. + +"Oh, my crutch is broken!" she cried, in dismay. "What shall I do? I +can not walk back to the house. I am lame!" + +"Let me see if I can help you," said Daisy, scaling the stone wall +with the grace of a fawn. "Put your arms around my neck," she said, +"and cling very tight. I will soon have you down from your high perch; +never mind the crutch. I can carry you up to the porch; it is not very +far, and you are not heavy." + +In a very few moments Daisy had the child down safely upon _terra +firma_. + +"Thank you," said the child. "I know you are tired; we will rest a +moment, please, on this fallen log." + +The touch of the little girl's hands, the glance of the soft brown +eyes, and the tone of her voice seemed to recall every word and glance +of Rex, and hold a strange fascination for her. + +"I shall tell my mother and my brother how good you have been to me, +and they will thank you too. My name is Birdie; please tell me +yours." + +"My name is Daisy Brooks," she answered. + +Poor little girl-bride, there had been a time when she had whispered +to her heart that her name was Daisy Lyon; but that bright dream was +over now; she would never be aught else than--Daisy Brooks. + +"Is your name really Daisy?" cried the little girl in a transport of +delight, scarcely catching the last name. "Why, that is the name my +brother loves best in the world. You have such a sweet face," said the +child, earnestly. "I would choose the name of some flower as just +suited to you. I should have thought of Lily, Rose, Pansy, or Violet, +but I should never have thought of anything one half so pretty as +Daisy; it just suits you." + +All through her life Daisy felt that to be the sweetest compliment +ever paid her. Daisy laughed--the only happy laugh that had passed her +lips since she had met Rex that morning under the magnolia-tree. + +"Shall I tell you what my brother said about daisies?" + +"Yes, you may tell me, if you like," Daisy answered, observing the +child delighted to talk of her brother. + +"He has been away for a long time," explained Birdie. "He only came +home last night, and I cried myself to sleep, I was so glad. You see," +said the child, growing more confidential, and nestling closer to +Daisy's side, and opening wide her great brown eyes, "I was crying for +fear he would bring home a wife, and mamma was crying for fear he +wouldn't. I wrote him a letter all by myself once, and begged him not +to marry, but come home all alone, and you see he did," cried the +child, overjoyed. "When he answered my letter, he inclosed a little +pressed flower, with a golden heart and little white leaves around it, +saying: 'There is no flower like the daisy for me. I shall always +prize them as pearls beyond price.' I planted a whole bed of them +beneath his window, and I placed a fresh vase of them in his room, +mingled with some forget-me-nots, and when he saw them, he caught me +in his arms, and cried as though his heart would break." + +If the white fleecy clouds in the blue sky, the murmuring sea, or the +silver-throated bobolink swinging in the green leafy bough above her +head, had only whispered to Daisy why he loved the flowers so well +which bore the name of daisy, how much misery might have been spared +two loving hearts! The gray, dusky shadows of twilight were creeping +up from the sea. + +"Oh, see how late it is growing," cried Birdie, starting up in alarm. +"I am afraid you could not carry me up to the porch. If you could +only summon a servant, or--or--my brother." + +For answer, Daisy raised the slight burden in her arms with a smile. + +"I like you more than I can tell," said Birdie, laying her soft, pink, +dimpled cheek against Daisy's. "Won't you come often to the angle in +the stone wall? That is my favorite nook. I like to sit there and +watch the white sails glide by over the white crested waves." + +"Yes," said Daisy, "I will come every day." + +"Some time I may bring my brother with me; you must love him, too, +won't you?" + +"I should love any one who had you for a sister," replied Daisy, +clasping the little figure she held still closer in her arms; adding, +in her heart: "You are so like him." + +Birdie gave her such a hearty kiss, that the veil twined round her hat +tumbled about her face like a misty cloud. + +"You must put me down while you fix your veil," said Birdie. "You can +not see with it so. There are huge stones in the path, you would +stumble and fall." + +"So I shall," assented Daisy, as she placed the child down on the +soft, green grass. + +At that instant swift, springy footsteps came hurriedly down the path, +and a voice, which seemed to pierce her very heart, called: "Birdie, +little Birdie, where are you?" + +"Here, Brother Rex," called the child, holding out her arms to him +with eager delight. "Come here, Rex, and carry me; I have broken my +crutch." + +For one brief instant the world seemed to stand still around poor, +hapless Daisy, the forsaken girl-bride. The wonder was that she did +not die, so great was her intense emotion. Rex was standing before +her--the handsome, passionate lover, who had married her on the +impulse of the moment; the man whom she loved with her whole heart, at +whose name she trembled, of whom she had made an idol in her girlish +heart, and worshiped--the lover who had vowed so earnestly he would +shield her forever from the cold, cruel world, who had sworn eternal +constancy, while the faithful gleaming stars watched him from the blue +sky overhead. + +Yes, it was Rex! She could not see through the thick, misty veil, how +pale his face was in the gathering darkness. Oh, Heaven! how her +passionate little heart went out to him! How she longed, with a +passionate longing words could not tell, to touch his hand, or rest +her weary head on his breast. + +Her brain whirled; she seemed, to live ages in those few moments. +Should she throw herself on her knees, and cry out to him, "Oh, Rex, +Rex, my darling! I am _not_ guilty! Listen to me, my love. Hear my +pleading--listen to my prayer! I am more sinned against than sinning. +My life has been as pure as an angel's--take me back to your heart, or +I shall die!" + +"She has been so good to me, Rex," whispered Birdie, clinging to the +veil which covered Daisy's face. "I broke my crutch, and she has +carried me from the stone wall; won't you please thank her for me, +brother?" + +Daisy's heart nearly stopped beating; she knew the eventful moment of +her life had come, when Rex, her handsome young husband, turned +courteously toward her, extending his hand with a winning smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +On the day following Rex's return home, and the morning preceding the +events narrated in our last chapter, Mrs. Theodore Lyon sat in her +dressing-room eagerly awaiting her son; her eyebrows met in a dark +frown and her jeweled hands were locked tightly together in her lap. + +"Rex is like his father," she mused; "he will not be coerced in this +matter of marriage. He is reckless and willful, yet kind of heart. For +long years I have set my heart upon this marriage between Rex and +Pluma Hurlhurst. I say again it must be!" Mrs. Lyon idolized her only +son. "He would be a fitting mate for a queen," she told herself. The +proud, peerless beauty of the haughty young heiress of Whitestone Hall +pleased her. "She and no other shall be Rex's wife," she said. + +When Rex accepted the invitation to visit Whitestone Hall she smiled +complacently. + +"It can end in but one way," she told herself; "Rex will bring Pluma +home as his bride." + +Quite unknown to him, his elegant home had been undergoing repairs for +months. + +"There will be nothing wanting for the reception of his bride," she +said, viewing the magnificent suites of rooms which contained every +luxury that taste could suggest or money procure. + +Then came Rex's letter like a thunderbolt from a clear sky begging her +not to mention the subject again, as he could never marry Pluma +Hurlhurst. + +"I shall make a flying trip home," he said, "then I am going abroad." + +She did not notice how white and worn her boy's handsome face had +grown when she greeted him the night before, in the flickering light +of the chandelier. She would not speak to him then of the subject +uppermost in her mind. + +"Retire to your room at once, Rex," she said, "your journey has +wearied you. See, it is past midnight already. I will await you +to-morrow morning in my boudoir; we will breakfast there together." + +She leaned back against the crimson velvet cushions, tapping her satin +quilted slipper restlessly on the thick velvet carpet, ever and anon +glancing at her jeweled watch, wondering what could possibly detain +Rex. + +She heard the sound of a quick, familiar footstep in the corridor; a +moment later Rex was by her side. As she stooped down to kiss his face +she noticed, in the clear morning light, how changed he was. Her +jeweled hands lingered on his dark curls and touched his bright, proud +face. "What had come over this handsome, impetuous son of hers?" she +asked herself. + +"You have been ill, Rex," she said, anxiously, "and you have not told +me." + +"I have not, indeed, mother," he replied. + +"Not ill? Why, my dear boy, your face is haggard and worn, and there +are lines upon it that ought not to have been there for years. Rex," +she said, drawing him down on the sofa beside her, and holding his +strong white hands tightly clasped in her own, "I do not want to tease +you or bring up an unpleasant subject, but I had so hoped, my boy, you +would not come alone. I have hoped and prayed, morning and night, you +would bring home a bride, and that bride would be--Pluma Hurlhurst." + +Rex staggered from her arms with a groan. He meant to tell her the +whole truth, but the words seemed to fail him. + +"Mother," he said, turning toward her a face white with anguish, "in +Heaven's name, never mention love or marriage to me again or I shall +go mad. I shall never bring a bride here." + +"He has had a quarrel with Pluma," she thought. + +"Rex," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking down +into his face, "tell me, has Pluma Hurlhurst refused you? Tell me what +is the matter, Rex. I am your mother, and I have the right to know. +The one dream of my life has been to see Pluma your wife; I can not +give up that hope. If it is a quarrel it can be easily adjusted; +'true love never runs smooth,' you know." + +"It is not that, mother," said Rex, wearily bowing his head on his +hands. + +Then something like the truth seemed to dawn upon her. + +"My son," she said, in a slight tone of irritation, "Pluma wrote me of +that little occurrence at the lawn fête. Surely you are not in love +with that girl you were so foolishly attentive to--the overseer's +niece, I believe it was. I can not, I will not, believe a son of mine +could so far forget his pride as to indulge in such mad, reckless +folly. Remember, Rexford," she cried, in a voice fairly trembling with +suppressed rage, "I could never forgive such an act of recklessness. +She should never come here, I warn you." + +"Mother," said Rex, raising his head proudly, and meeting the flashing +scorn of her eyes unflinchingly, "you must not speak so; I--can not +listen to it." + +"By what right do you forbid me to speak of that girl as I choose?" +she demanded, in a voice hard and cold with intense passion. + +Once or twice Rex paced the length of the room, his arms folded upon +his breast. Suddenly he stopped before her. + +"What is this girl to you?" she asked. + +With white, quivering lips Rex answered back: + +"She is my wife!" + +The words were spoken almost in a whisper, but they echoed like +thunder through the room, and seemed to repeat themselves, over and +over again, during the moment of utter silence that ensued. Rex had +told his pitiful secret, and felt better already, as if the worst was +over; while his mother stood motionless and dumb, glaring upon him +with a baleful light in her eyes. He had dashed down in a single +instant the hopes she had built up for long years. + +"Let me tell you about it, mother," he said, kneeling at her feet. +"The worst and bitterest part is yet to come." + +"Yes, tell me," his mother said, hoarsely. + +Without lifting up his bowed head, or raising his voice, which was +strangely sad and low, Rex told his story--every word of it: how his +heart had went out to the sweet-faced, golden-haired little creature +whom he found fast asleep under the blossoming magnolia-tree in the +morning sunshine; how he protected the shrinking, timid little +creature from the cruel insults of Pluma Hurlhurst; how he persuaded +her to marry him out in the starlight, and how they had agreed to meet +on the morrow--that morrow on which he found the cottage empty and +his child-bride gone; of his search for her, and--oh, cruelest and +bitterest of all!--where and with whom he found her; how he had left +her lying among the clover, loving her too madly to curse her, yet +praying Heaven to strike him dead then and there. Daisy--sweet little, +blue-eyed Daisy was false; he never cared to look upon a woman's face +again. He spoke of Daisy as his wife over and over again, the name +lingering tenderly on his lips. He did not see how, at the mention of +the words, "My wife," his mother's face grew more stern and rigid, and +she clutched her hands so tightly together that the rings she wore +bruised her tender flesh, yet she did not seem to feel the pain. + +She saw the terrible glance that leaped into his eyes when he +mentioned Stanwick's name, and how he ground his teeth, like one +silently breathing a terrible curse. Then his voice fell to a +whisper. + +"I soon repented of my harshness," he said, "and I went back to +Elmwood; but, oh, the pity of it--the pity of it--I was too late; +little Daisy, my bride, was dead! She had thrown herself down a shaft +in a delirium. I would have followed her, but they held me back. I can +scarcely realize it, mother," he cried. "The great wonder is that I do +not go insane." + +Mrs. Lyon had heard but one word--"Dead." This girl who had inveigled +her handsome son into a low marriage was dead. Rex was free--free to +marry the bride whom she had selected for him. Yet she dare not +mention that thought to him now--no, not now; she must wait a little. + +No pity lurked in her heart for the poor little girl-bride whom she +supposed lying cold and still in death, whom her son so wildly +mourned; she only realized her darling Rex was free. What mattered it +to her at what bitter a cost Rex was free? She should yet see her +darling hopes realized. Pluma should be his wife, just as sure as they +both lived. + +"I have told you all now, mother," Rex said, in conclusion; "you must +comfort me, for Heaven knows I need all of your sympathy. You will +forgive me, mother," he said. "You would have loved Daisy, too, if you +had seen her; I shall always believe, through some enormous villainy, +Stanwick must have tempted her. I shall follow him to the ends of the +earth. I shall wring the truth from his lips. I must go away," he +cried--"anywhere, everywhere, trying to forget my great sorrow. How am +I to bear it? Has Heaven no pity, that I am so sorely tried?" + +At that moment little Birdie came hobbling into the room, and for a +brief moment Rex forgot his great grief in greeting his little +sister. + +"Oh, you darling brother Rex," she cried, clinging to him and laughing +and crying in one breath, "I told them to wake me up sure, if you came +in the night. I dreamed I heard your voice. You see, it must have been +real, but I couldn't wake up; and this morning I heard every one +saying: 'Rex is here, Rex is here,' and I couldn't wait another +moment, but I came straight down to you." + +Rex kissed the pretty little dimpled face, and the little chubby hands +that stroked his hair so tenderly. + +"Why, you have been crying, Rex," she cried out, in childish wonder. +"See, there are tear-drops on your eyelashes--one fell on my hand. +What is the matter, brother dear, are you not happy?" + +Birdie put her two little soft white arms around his neck, laying her +cheek close to his in her pretty, childish, caressing way. + +He tried to laugh lightly, but the laugh had no mirth in it. + +"You must run away and play, Birdie, and not annoy your brother," said +Mrs. Lyon, disengaging the child's clinging arms from Rex's neck. +"That child is growing altogether too observing of late." + +"Child!" cried Birdie. "I am ten years old. I shall soon be a young +lady like Bess and Gertie, over at Glengrove." + +"And Eve," suggested Rex, the shadow of a smile flickering around his +mouth. + +"No, not like Eve," cried the child, gathering up her crutch and +sun-hat as she limped toward the door; "Eve is not a young lady, she's +a Tom-boy; she wears short dresses and chases the hounds around, while +the other two wear silk dresses with big, big trains and have beaus to +hold their fans and handkerchiefs. I am going to take my new books you +sent me down to my old seat on the stone wall and read those pretty +stories there. I don't know if I will be back for lunch or not," she +called back; "if I don't, will you come for me, Brother Rex?" + +"Yes, dear," he made answer, "of course I will." + +The lunch hour came and went, still Birdie did not put in an +appearance. At last Rex was beginning to feel uneasy about her. + +"You need not be the least alarmed," said Mrs. Lyon, laughingly, "the +child is quite spoiled; she is like a romping gypsy, more content to +live out of doors in a tent than to remain indoors. She is probably +waiting down on the stone wall for you to come for her and carry her +home as you used to do. You had better go down and see, Rex; it is +growing quite dark." + +And Rex, all unconscious of the strange, invisible thread which fate +was weaving so closely about him, quickly made his way through the +fast-gathering darkness down the old familiar path which led through +the odorous orange groves to the old stone wall, guided by the shrill +treble of Birdie's childish voice, which he heard in the distance, +mingled with the plaintive murmur of the sad sea-waves--those waves +that seemed ever murmuring in their song the name of Daisy. Even the +subtle breeze seemed to whisper of her presence. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +"I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered my little +sister," said Rex, extending his hand to the little veiled figure +standing in the shade of the orange-trees. "Allow me to thank you for +it." + +Poor Daisy! she dared not speak lest the tones of her voice should +betray her identity. + +"I must for evermore be as one dead to him," she whispered to her +wildly beating heart. + +Rex wondered why the little, fluttering, cold fingers dropped so +quickly from his clasp; he thought he heard a stifled sigh; the +slight, delicate form looked strangely familiar, yet he could see it +was neither Eve, Gerty, nor Bess. She bowed her head with a few +low-murmured words he scarcely caught, and the next instant the little +figure was lost to sight in the darkness beyond. + +"Who was that, Birdie?" he asked, scarcely knowing what prompted the +question. + +Alas for the memory of childhood! poor little Birdie had quite +forgotten. + +"It is so stupid of me to forget, but when I see her again I shall ask +her and try and remember it then." + +"It is of no consequence," said Rex, raising the little figure in his +arms and bearing her quickly up the graveled path to the house. + +As he neared the house Rex observed there was great confusion among +the servants; there was a low murmur of voices and lights moving to +and fro. + +"What is the matter, Parker?" cried Rex, anxiously, of the servant who +came out to meet him. + +"Mrs. Lyon is very ill, sir," he answered, gravely; "it is a +paralytic stroke the doctor says. We could not find you, so we went +for Doctor Elton at once." + +It seemed but a moment since he had parted from his mother in the +gathering twilight, to search for Birdie. His mother very ill--dear +Heaven! he could scarcely realize it. + +"Oh, take me to mother, Rex!" cried Birdie, clinging to him piteously. +"Oh, it can not, it cannot be true; take me to her, Rex!" + +The sound of hushed weeping fell upon his ears and seemed to bring to +him a sense of what was happening. Like one in a dream he hurried +along the corridor toward his mother's boudoir. He heard his mother's +voice calling for him. + +"Where is my son?" she moaned. + +He opened the door quietly and went in. Her dark eyes opened feebly as +Rex entered, and she held out her arms to him. + +"Oh, my son, my son!" she cried; "thank Heaven you are here!" + +She clung to him, weeping bitterly. It was the first time he had ever +seen tears in his mother's eyes, and he was touched beyond words. + +"It may not be as bad as you think, mother," he said; "there is always +hope while there is life." + +She raised her face to her son's, and he saw there was a curious +whiteness upon it. + +The large, magnificent room was quite in shadow; soft shadows filled +the corners; the white statuettes gleamed in the darkness; one blind +was half drawn, and through it came the soft, sweet moonlight. A large +night-lamp stood upon the table, but it was carefully shaded. Faint +glimmers of light fell upon the bed, with its costly velvet hangings, +and on the white, drawn face that lay on the pillows, with the gray +shadow of death stealing softly over it--the faint, filmy look that +comes only into eyes that death has begun to darken. + +His mother had never been demonstrative; she had never cared for many +caresses; but now her son's love seemed her only comfort. + +"Rex," she said, clinging close to him, "I feel that I am dying. Send +them all away--my hours are numbered--a mist rises before my face, +Rex. Oh, dear Heaven! I can not see you--I have lost my sight--my eyes +grow dim." + +A cry came from Rex's lips. + +"Mother, dear mother," he cried, "there is no pain in this world I +would not undergo for your dear sake!" he cried, kissing the +stiffening lips. + +She laid her hands on the handsome head bent before her. + +"Heaven bless you, my son," she murmured. "Oh, Rex, my hope and my +trust are in you!" she wailed. "Comfort me, calm me--I have suffered +so much. I have one last dying request to make of you, my son. You +will grant my prayer, Rex? Surely Heaven would not let you refuse my +last request!" + +Rex clasped her in his arms. This was his lady-mother, whose proud, +calm, serene manner had always been perfect--whose fair, proud face +had never been stained with tears--whose lips had never been parted +with sighs or worn with entreaties. + +It was so new to him, so terrible in its novelty, he could hardly +understand it. He threw his arms around her, and clasped her closely +to his breast. + +"My dearest mother," he cried, "you know I would die for you if dying +would benefit you. Why do you doubt my willingness to obey your +wishes, whatever they may be? Whatever I can do to comfort you I will +surely do it, mother." + +"Heaven bless you, Rex!" she cried, feebly caressing his face and his +bands. "You make death a thousand-fold more easy to bear, my darling, +only son!" + +"My dear sir," said the doctor, bending over him gently, "I must +remind you your mother's life hangs on a thread. The least excitement, +the least agitation, and she will be dead before you can call for +help. No matter what she may say to you, listen and accede." + +Rex bent down and kissed the pale, agitated face on the pillow. + +"I will be careful of my dearest mother. Surely you may trust me," he +said. + +"I do," replied the doctor, gravely. "Your mother's life, for the +present, lies in your hands." + +"Is it true, Rex, that I must die?" she gasped. The look of anguish on +his face answered her. "Rex," she whispered, clinging like a child to +his strong white hands, "my hope and trust are in you, my only son. I +am going to put your love to the test, my boy. I beseech you to say +'Yes' to the last request I shall ever make of you. Heaven knows, Rex, +I would not mention it now, but I am dying--yes, dying, Rex." + +"You need not doubt it, mother," he replied, earnestly, "I can not +refuse anything you may ask! Why should I?" + +But, as he spoke, he had not the faintest idea of what he would be +asked to do. As he spoke his eyes caught the gleam of the moonlight +through the window, and his thoughts traveled for one moment to the +beloved face he had seen in the moonlight--how fair and innocent the +face was as they parted on the night they were wed! The picture of +that lonely young girl-wife, going home by herself, brought tears to +his eyes. + +"Was there ever a fate so cruel?" he said to himself. "Who ever lost a +wife on his wedding-day?" + +Surely there had never been a love-dream so sweet, so passionate, or +so bright as his. Surely there had never been one so rudely broken. + +Poor little Daisy--his wife--lying cold and still in death. Even his +mother was to be taken from him. + +The feeble pressure of his mother's hands recalled his wandering +thoughts. + +"Listen, Rex," she whispered, faintly, "my moments are precious." + +He felt his mother's arms clasp closely round his neck. + +"Go on, mother," he said, gently. + +"Rex, my son," she whispered, gaspingly, "I could not die and leave +the words unspoken. I want my race to live long generations after me. +Your poor little lame sister will go unmarried to the grave; and now +all rests with you, my only son. You understand me, Rex; you know the +last request I have to ask." + +For the first time a cry came to Rex's lips; her words pierced like a +sword in his heart. + +"Surely, mother, you do not mean--you do not think I could ever--" + +The very horror of the thought seemed to completely unman him. + +"You will marry again," she interrupted, finishing the sentence he +could not utter. "Remember, she whom you loved is dead. I would not +have asked this for long years to come, but I am dying--I must speak +now." + +"My God, mother!" he cried out in agony, "ask anything but that. My +heart is torn and bleeding; have pity on me, have pity!" + +Great drops of agony started on his brow; his whole frame shook with +agitation. + +He tried to collect himself, to gather his scattered thoughts, to +realize the full import of the words she had spoken. + +Marry again! Heaven pity him! How could he harbor such a thought for a +single instant, when he thought of the pale, cold face of little +Daisy--his fair young bride--whom he so madly loved, lying pale and +still in death, like a broken lily, down in the dark, bottomless pit +which never yielded up its terrible secrets! + +"Rex," wailed his mother, feebly, gazing into his eyes with a suspense +heart-breaking to witness, "don't refuse me this the first prayer I +had ever made. If you mean to refuse it would be kinder far to plunge +a dagger into my heart and let me die at once. You can not refuse." +One trembling hand she laid on his breast, and with the other caressed +his face. "You are good and gentle of heart, Rex; the prayers of your +dying mother will touch you. Answer me, my son; tell me my proud old +race shall not die with you, and I will rest calmly in my grave." + +The cold night-wind fanned his pallid brow, and the blood coursed +through his veins like molten lead. He saw the tears coursing down her +pale, withered cheeks. Ah, God! was it brave to speak the words which +must bring despair and death to her? Was it filial to send his mother +to her grave with sorrow and sadness in her heart? Could he thrust +aside his mother's loving arms and resist her dying prayer? Heaven +direct him, he was so sorely tried. + +"Comfort me, Rex," she whispered, "think of how I have loved you since +you were a little child, how I used to kiss your rosy little face and +dream what your future would be like. It comes back to me now while I +plead to you with my fast-fleeting breath. Oh, answer me, Rex." + +All the love and tenderness of the young man's impulsive heart was +stirred by the words. Never was a man so fearfully tried. Rex's +handsome face had grown white with emotion; deep shadows came into his +eyes. Ah, what could it matter now? His hopes were dead, his heart +crushed, yet how could he consent? + +"Oh, Heaven, Rex!" she cried, "what does that look on your face mean? +What is it?" + +The look of terror on her face seemed to force the mad words from his +lips, the magnetic gaze seemed to hold him spellbound. He bent over +hie mother and laid his fresh, brave young face on the cold, white +face of his dying mother. + +"Promise me, Rex," she whispered. + +"I promise, mother!" he cried. "God help me; if it will make your last +moments happier, I consent." + +"Heaven bless you, my noble son!" whispered the quivering voice. "You +have taken the bitter sting from death, and filled my heart with +gratitude. Some day you will thank me for it, Rex." + +They were uttered! Oh, fatal words! Poor Rex, wedded and parted, his +love-dream broken, how little he knew of the bitter grief which was to +accrue from that promise wrung from his white lips. + +Like one in a dream he heard her murmur the name of Pluma Hurlhurst. +The power of speech seemed denied him; he knew what she meant. He +bowed his head on her cold hands. + +"I have no heart to give her," he said, brokenly. "My heart is with +Daisy, my sweet little lost love." + +Poor Rex! how little he knew Daisy was at that self-same moment +watching with beating heart the faint light of his window through the +branches of the trees--Daisy, whom he mourned as dead, alas! dead to +him forever, shut out from his life by the rash words of that fatally +cruel promise. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +One thought only was uppermost in Daisy's mind as she sped swiftly +down the flower-bordered path in the moonlight, away from the husband +who was still so dear to her. + +"He did not recognize me," she panted, in a little quivering voice. +"Would he have cursed me, I wonder, had he known it was I?" + +Down went the little figure on her knees in the dew-spangled grass +with a sharp little cry. + +"Oh, dear, what shall I do?" she cried out in sudden fright. "How +could I know she was his sister when I told her my name?" A twig fell +from the bough above her head brushed by some night-bird's wing. "He +is coming to search for me," she whispered to herself. + +A tremor ran over her frame; the color flashed into her cheek and +parted lips, and a startled, wistful brightness crept into the blue +eyes. + +Ah! there never could have been a love so sweetly trustful and +child-like as little Daisy's for handsome Rex, her husband in name +only. + +Poor, little, innocent Daisy! if she had walked straight back to him, +crying out, "Rex, Rex, see, I am Daisy, your wife!" how much untold +sorrow might have been spared her. + +Poor, little, lonely, heart-broken child-bride! how was she to know +Rex had bitterly repented and come back to claim her, alas! too late; +and how he mourned her, refusing to be comforted, and how they forced +him back from the edge of the treacherous shaft lest he should plunge +headlong down the terrible depths. Oh, if she had but known all this! + +If Rex had dropped down from the clouds she could not have been more +startled and amazed at finding him in such close proximity away down +in Florida. + +She remembered he had spoken to her of his mother, as he clasped her +to his heart out in the starlight of that never-to-be-forgotten night, +whispering to her of the marriage which had been the dearest wish of +his mother's heart. + +She remembered how she had hid her happy, rosy, blushing face on his +breast, and asked him if he was quite sure he loved her better than +Pluma Hurlhurst, the haughty, beautiful heiress. + +"Yes, my pretty little sweetheart, a thousand times better," he had +replied, emphatically, holding her off at arm's-length, watching the +heightened color that surged over the dainty, dimpled face so plainly +discernible in the white, radiant starlight. + +Daisy rested her head on one soft, childish hand, and gazed +thoughtfully up at the cold, brilliant stars that gemmed the heavens +above her. + +"Oh, if you had only warned me, little stars!" she said. "I was so +happy then; and now life is so bitter!" + +A sudden impulse seized her, strong as her very life, to look upon his +face again. + +"I would be content to live my weary life out uncomplainingly then," +she said. + +Without intent or purpose she walked hurriedly back through the +pansy-bordered path she had so lately traversed. + +The grand old trees seemed to stretch their giant arms protectingly +over her, as if to ward off all harm. + +The night-wind fanned her flushed cheeks and tossed her golden curls +against her wistful, tear-stained face. Noiselessly she crept up the +wide, graveled path that led to his home--the home which should have +been hers. + +Was it fancy? She thought she heard Rex's voice crying out: "Daisy, my +darling!" How pitifully her heart thrilled! Dear Heaven! if it had +only been true. It was only the restless murmur of the waves sighing +among the orange-trees. + +A light burned dimly in an upper window. Suddenly a shadow fell across +the pale, silken curtains. She knew but too well whose shadow it was; +the proud, graceful poise of the handsome head, and the line of the +dark curls waving over the broad brow, could belong to no one but Rex. +There was no one but the pitying moonlight out there to see how +passionately the poor little child-bride kissed the pale roses on +which that shadow had fallen, and how she broke it from the stem and +placed it close to her beating heart--that lonely, starved little +heart, chilled under the withering frost of neglect, when life, love +and happiness should have been just bursting into bloom for her. + +"He said I had spoiled his life," she sighed, leaning her pale face +wearily against the dark-green ivy vines. "He must have meant I had +come between him and Pluma. Will he go back to her, now that he +believes me dead?" + +One question alone puzzled her: Had Birdie mentioned her name, and +would he know it was she, whom every one believed lying so cold and +still in the bottomless pit? She could not tell. + +"If I could but see Birdie for a moment," she thought, "and beseech +her to keep my secret!" + +Birdie had said her brother was soon going away again. + +"How could I bear it?" she asked herself, piteously. + +It was not in human nature to see the young husband whom she loved so +well drifting so completely away from her and still remain silent. "I +will watch over him from afar; I will be his guardian angel; I must +remain as one dead to him forever," she told herself. + +Afar off, over the dancing, moonlighted waters she saw a pleasure-boat +gliding swiftly over the rippling waves. She could hear their merry +laughter and gay, happy voices, and snatches of mirthful songs. +Suddenly the band struck up an old, familiar strain. Poor little Daisy +leaned her head against the iron railing of the porch and listened to +those cruel words--the piece that they played was "Love's Young +Dream." + +Love's young dream! Ah! how cruelly hers had ended! She looked up at +the white, fleecy clouds above her, vaguely wondering why the love of +one person made the earth a very paradise, or a wilderness. As the +gay, joyous music floated up to her the words of the poet found echo +in her heart in a passionate appeal: + + "No one could tell, for nobody knew, + Why love was made to gladden a few; + And hearts that would forever be true, + Go lone and starved the whole way through," + +Oh, it was such a blessed relief to her to watch that shadow. Rex was +pacing up and down the room now, his arms folded and his head bent on +his breast. Poor, patient little Daisy, watching alone out in the +starlight, was wondering if he was thinking of her. + +No thought occurred to her of being discovered there with her arms +clasped around that marble pillar watching so intently the shadow of +that graceful, manly figure pacing to and fro. + +No thought occurred to her that a strange event was at that moment +transpiring within those walls, or that something unusual was about to +happen. + +How she longed to look upon his face for just one brief moment! +Estrangement had not chilled her trusting love, it had increased it, +rather, tenfold. + +Surely it was not wrong to gaze upon that shadow--he was her husband. + +In that one moment a wild, bitter thought swept across her heart. + +Did Rex regret their marriage because she was poor, friendless, and an +orphan? Would it have been different if she had been the heiress of +Whitestone Hall? + +She pitied herself for her utter loneliness. There was no one to whom +she could say one word of all that filled her heart and mind, no face +to kiss, no heart to lean on; she was so completely alone. And this +was the hour her fate was being decided for her. There was no sympathy +for her, her isolation was bitter. She thought of all the heroines she +had ever read of. Ah, no one could picture such a sad fate as was +hers. + +A bright thought flashed across her lonely little heart. + +"His mother is there," she sighed. "Ah, if I were to go to her and cry +out: 'Love me, love me! I am your son's wife!' would she cast me from +her? Ah, no, surely not; a woman's gentle heart beats in her breast, a +woman's tender pity. I will plead with her on my knees--to comfort +me--to show me some path out of the pitiful darkness; I can love her +because she is his mother." + +Daisy drew her breath quickly; the color glowed warmly on her cheek +and lips; she wondered she had not thought of it before. Poor child! +she meant to tell her all, and throw herself upon her mercy. + +Her pretty, soft blue eyes, tender with the light of love, were +swimming with tears. A vain hope was struggling in her heart--Rex's +mother might love her, because she worshiped her only son so dearly. + +Would she send her forth from that home that should have sheltered +her, or would she clasp those little cold fingers in Rex's strong +white ones, as she explained to him, as only a mother can, how sadly +he had misjudged poor little Daisy--his wife? + +No wonder her heart throbbed pitifully as she stole silently +across the wide, shadowy porch, and, quivering from head to foot, +touched the bell that echoed with a resounding sound through the long +entrance-hall. + +"I would like to see Mrs. Lyon," she said, hesitatingly, to the +servant who answered her summons. "Please do not refuse me," she said, +clasping her little white hands pleadingly. "I must see her at once. +It is a question of life or death with me. Oh, sir, please do not +refuse me. I must see her at once--and--all alone!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +In the beautiful drawing-room at Whitestone Hall sat Pluma Hurlhurst, +running her white, jeweled fingers lightly over the keyboard of a +grand piano, but the music evidently failed to charm her. She arose +listlessly and walked toward the window, which opened out upon the +wide, cool, rose-embowered porch. + +The sunshine glimmered on her amber satin robe, and the white +frost-work of lace at her throat, and upon the dark, rich beauty of +her southern face. + +"Miss Pluma," called Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, entering the room, +"there is a person down-stairs who wishes to see you. I have told her +repeatedly it is an utter impossibility--you would not see her; but +she declares she will not go away until she does see you." + +Pluma turns from the window with cold disdain. + +"You should know better than to deliver a message of this kind to me. +How dare the impertinent, presuming beggar insist upon seeing me! +Order the servants to put her out of the house at once." + +"She is not young," said the venerable housekeeper, "and I thought, if +you only would--" + +"Your opinion was not called for, Mrs. Corliss," returned the heiress, +pointing toward the door haughtily. + +"I beg your pardon," the housekeeper made answer, "but the poor +creature begged so hard to see you I did feel a little sorry for +her." + +"This does not interest me, Mrs. Corliss," said Pluma, turning toward +the window, indicating the conversation was at an end--"not in the +least." + +"The Lord pity you, you stony-hearted creature!" murmured the +sympathetic old lady to herself as the door closed between them. "One +word wouldn't have cost you much, Heaven knows, it's mightly little +comfort poor old master takes with you! You are no more like the +bonny race of Hurlhursts than a raven is like a white dove!" And the +poor old lady walked slowly back to the dark-robed figure in the hall, +so eagerly awaiting her. + +"There was no use in my going to my young mistress; I knew she would +not see you. But I suppose you are more satisfied now." + +"She utterly refuses to see me, does she," asked the woman, in an +agitated voice, "when you told her I wished to see her particularly?" + +The housekeeper shook her head. + +"When Miss Pluma once makes up her mind to a thing, no power on earth +could change her mind," she said; "and she is determined she won't see +you, so you may as well consider that the end of it." + +Without another word the stranger turned and walked slowly down the +path and away from Whitestone Hall. + +"Fool that I was!" she muttered through her clinched teeth. "I might +have foreseen this. But I will haunt the place day and night until I +see you, proud heiress of Whitestone Hall. We shall see--time will +tell." + +Meanwhile Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was staring after her with +wondering eyes. + +"I have heard that voice and seen that face somewhere," she ruminated, +thoughtfully; "but where--where? There seems to be strange leaks in +this brain of mine--I can not remember." + +A heavy, halting step passed the door, and stopped there. + +"What did that woman want, Mrs. Corliss?" + +She started abruptly from her reverie, replying, hesitatingly. + +"She wanted to see Miss Pluma, sir." + +"Was Pluma so busily engaged she could not spare that poor creature a +moment or so?" he inquired, irritably. "Where is she?" + +"In the parlor, sir." + +With slow, feeble steps, more from weakness than age, Basil Hurlhurst +walked slowly down the corridor to the parlor. + +It was seldom he left his own apartments of late, yet Pluma never +raised her superb eyes from the book of engravings which lay in her +lap as he entered the room. + +A weary smile broke under his silver-white mustache. + +"You do not seem in a hurry to bid me welcome, Pluma," he said, +grimly, throwing himself down into an easy-chair opposite her. "I +congratulate myself upon having such an affectionate daughter." + +Pluma tossed aside her book with a yawn. + +"Of course I am glad to see you," she replied, carelessly; "but you +can not expect me to go into ecstasies over the event like a child in +pinafores might. You ought to take it for granted that I'm glad you +are beginning to see what utter folly it is to make such a recluse of +yourself." + +He bit his lip in chagrin. As is usually the case with invalids, he +was at times inclined to be decidedly irritable, as was the case just +now. + +"It is you who have driven me to seek the seclusion of my own +apartments, to be out of sight and hearing of the household of +simpering idiots you insist upon keeping about you," he cried, +angrily. "I came back to Whitestone Hall for peace and rest. Do I get +it? No." + +"That is not my fault," she answered, serenely. "You do not mingle +with the guests. I had no idea they could annoy you." + +"Well, don't you suppose I have eyes and ears, even if I do not mingle +with the chattering magpies you fill the house up with? Why, I can +never take a ramble in the grounds of an evening without stumbling +upon a dozen or more pair of simpering lovers at every turn. I like +darkness and quiet. Night after night I find the grounds strung up +with these Chinese lanterns, and I can not even sleep in my bed for +the eternal brass bands at night; and in the daytime not a moment's +quiet do I get for these infernal sonatas and screeching trills of the +piano. I tell you plainly, I shall not stand this thing a day longer. +I am master of Whitestone Hall yet, and while I live I shall have +things my own way. After I die you can turn it into a pandemonium, for +all I care." + +Pluma flashed her large dark eyes upon him surprisedly, beginning to +lose her temper, spurred on by opposition. + +"I am sure I do not mean to make a hermit of myself because you are +too old to enjoy the brightness of youth," she flashed out, defiantly; +"and you ought not to expect it--it is mean and contemptible of you." + +"Pluma!" echoed Basil Hurlhurst, in astonishment, his noble face +growing white and stern with suppressed excitement, "not another +word." + +Pluma tossed her head contemptuously. When once her temper arose it +was quite as impossible to check it as it was when she was a willful, +revengeful, spoiled child. + +"Another man as rich as you are would have taken their daughter to +Washington for a season, and in the summer to Long Branch or +Newport--somewhere, anywhere, away from the detestable waving +cotton-fields. When you die I shall have it all set on fire." + +"Pluma!" he cried, hoarsely, rising to his feet and drawing his +stately, commanding figure to its full height, "I will not brook such +language from a child who should at least yield me obedience, if not +love. You are not the heiress of Whitestone Hall yet, and you never +may be. If I thought you really contemplated laying waste these waving +fields that have been my pride for long years--and my father's before +me--I would will it to an utter stranger, so help me Heaven!" + +Were his words prophetic? How little she knew the echo of these words +were doomed to ring for all time down the corridors of her life! How +little we know what is in store for us! + +"I am your only child," said Pluma, haughtily; "you would not rob me +of my birthright. I shall be forced to submit to your pleasure--while +you are here--but, thank Heaven, the time is not far distant when I +shall be able to do as I please. 'The mills of the gods grind slowly, +but they grind exceeding fine,'" she quoted, saucily. + +"Thank Heaven the time is not far distant when I shall be able to do +as I please." He repeated the words slowly after her, each one sinking +into his heart like a poisoned arrow. "So you would thank Heaven for +my death, would you?" he cried, with passion rising to a white heat. +"Well, this is no better than I could expect from the daughter--of +such a mother." + +He had never intended speaking those words; but she goaded him on to +it with her taunting, scornful smile, reminding him so bitterly of the +one great error of his past life. + +He was little like the kind, courteous master of Whitestone Hall, whom +none named but to praise, as he stood there watching the immovable +face of his daughter. All the bitterness of his nature was by passion +rocked. No look of pain or anguish touched the dark beauty of that +southern face at the mention of her mother's name. + +"You have spoken well," she said. "I am her child. You speak of love," +she cried, contemptuously. "Have you not told me, a thousand times, +you never cared for my mother? How, then, could I expect you to care +for me? Have you not cried out unceasingly for the golden-haired young +wife and the babe you lost, and that you wished Heaven had taken you +too? Did I ever hear my mother's name upon your lips except with a +sneer? Do you expect these things made that mother's child more fond +of you, were you twenty times my father?" + +She stood up before him, proudly defiant, like a beautiful tragedy +queen, the sunlight slanting on the golden vines of her amber satin +robe, on the long, dark, silken curls fastened with a ruby star, and +on the deep crimson-hearted passion-roses that quivered on her heaving +breast. There was not one feature of that gloriously dark face that +resembled the proud, cold man sitting opposite her. + +He knew all she had said was quite true. He had tried so hard to love +this beautiful queenly girl from her infancy up. He was tender of +heart, honest and true; but an insurmountable barrier seemed ever +between them; each year found them further apart. + +Basil Hurlhurst lived over again in those few moments the terrible +folly that had cursed his youth, as he watched the passion-rocked face +before him. + +"Youth is blind and will not see," had been too bitterly true with +him. It was in his college days, when the world seemed all gayety, +youth and sunshine to him, he first met the beautiful face that was to +darken all of his after life. He was young and impulsive; he thought +it was love that filled his heart for the beautiful stranger who +appeared alone and friendless in that little college town. + +He never once asked who or what she was, or from whence she came, this +beautiful creature with the large, dark, dreamy eyes that thrilled his +heart into love. She carried the town by storm; every young man at the +college was deeply, desperately in love. But Basil, the handsomest and +wealthiest of them all, thought what a lark it would be to steal a +march on them all by marrying the dark-eyed beauty then and there. He +not only thought it, but executed it, but it was not the lark that he +thought it was going to be. For one short happy week he lived in a +fool's paradise, then a change came over the spirit of his dreams. In +that one week she had spent his year's income and all the money he +could borrow, then petulantly left him in anger. + +For two long years he never looked upon her face again. One stormy +night she returned quite unexpectedly at Whitestone Hall, bringing +with her their little child Pluma, and, placing her in her father's +arms, bitter recriminations followed. Bitterly Basil Hurlhurst +repented that terrible mistake of his youth, that hasty marriage. + +When the morning light dawned he took his wife and child from +Whitestone Hall--took them abroad. What did it matter to him where +they went? Life was the same to him in one part of the world as +another. For a year they led a weary life of it. Heaven only knew how +weary he was of the woman the law called his wife! + +One night, in a desperate fit of anger, she threw herself into the +sea; her body was never recovered. Then the master of Whitestone Hall +returned with his child, a sadder and wiser man. + +But the bitterest drop in his cup had been added last. The golden-haired +young wife, the one sweet love whom he had married last, was taken +from him; even her little child, tiny image of that fair young mother, +had not been spared him. + +How strange it was such a passionate yearning always came over him +when he thought of his child! + +When he saw a fair, golden-haired young girl, with eyes of blue, the +pain in his heart almost stifled him. Some strange unaccountable fate +urged him to ever seek for that one face even in the midst of crowds. +It was a mad, foolish fancy, yet it was the one consolation of Basil +Hurlhurst's weary, tempest tossed life. + +No wonder he set his teeth hard together as he listened to the cold +words of the proud, peerless beauty before him, who bore every +lineament of her mother's dark, fatal beauty--this daughter who +scornfully spoke of the hour when he should die as of some happy, +long-looked-for event. + +Those waving cotton-fields that stretched out on all sides as far as +the eye could reach, like a waving field of snow, laid waste beneath +the fire fiend's scorching breath! Never--never! + +Then and there the proud, self-conscious young heiress lost all +chances of reigning a regal queen, by _fair_ means, of Whitestone +Hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +The servant who opened the door for Daisy looked earnestly at the +fair, pleading young face, framed in rings of golden hair, so pure and +spiritual that it looked like an angel's with the soft white moonlight +falling over it. + +"You will not refuse me," she repeated, timidly. "I must speak to Mrs. +Lyon." + +"You have come too late," he replied, gently; "Mrs. Lyon is dead." + +The man never forgot the despairing look of horror that deepened in +the childish blue eyes raised to his. + +"Rex's mother dead!" she repeated, slowly, wondering if she had heard +aright. "Oh, my poor Rex, my poor Rex!" + +How she longed to go to him and comfort him in that terrible hour, but +she dared not intrude upon him. + +"If there is any message you would like to leave," said the +kind-hearted Parker, "I will take it to Mr. Rex." + +"No," said Daisy, shaking her head, "I have no message to leave; +perhaps I will come again--after this is all over," she made answer, +hesitatingly; her brain was in a whirl; she wanted to get away all by +herself to think. "Please don't say any one was here," she said, +quickly; "I--I don't want any one to know." + +The sweet, plaintive voice, as sweet as the silvery note of a forest +bird, went straight to his heart. + +Whatever the mission of this beautiful, mysterious visitor, he would +certainly respect her wishes. + +"I shall not mention it if you do not wish it," he said. + +"Thank you," she replied, simply; "you are very kind. My life seems +made up of disappointments," she continued, as she walked slowly home +under the restless, sighing green branches. + +It seemed so indeed. She was so young and inexperienced to be thrown +so entirely upon the cold, pitiless world--cut off so entirely from +all human sympathy. She entered the house quite unobserved. +Eve--bright, merry, dashing Eve--was singing like a lark in the +drawing-room, making the old house echo with her bright young voice. + +"How happy she is!" thought Daisy, wistfully. "She has home, friends, +and love, while I have nothing that makes life worth the living." + +Like a shadow, she flitted on through the dim, shadowy hall, toward +her own little room. She saw Gertie's door was ajar as she passed it, +and the sound of her own name caused her to pause voluntarily. + +It was very natural for Daisy to pause. How many are there who would +have passed on quietly, with no desire to know what was being said of +themselves, when they heard their own names mentioned in such a +sneering manner? Daisy certainly meant no harm by it; she paused, +thoughtfully and curiously, as any one would have done. + +"I am sure I don't like it," Gertie was saying, spitefully. "It is an +actual shame allowing Daisy Brooks to remain here. Uncle Jet was a +mean old thing to send her here, where there were three marriageable +young ladies. I tell you he did it out of pure spite." + +"I believe it," answered Bess, spiritedly. "Every one of my beaus +either hints for an introduction or asks for it outright." + +"What do you tell them?" questions Gertie, eagerly. + +"Tell them! Why, I look exceedingly surprised, replying: 'I do not +know to whom you refer. We have no company at the house just now.' 'I +mean that beautiful, golden-haired little fairy, with the rosy cheeks +and large blue eyes. If not your guest, may I ask who she is?' I am +certainly compelled to answer so direct a thrust," continued Bess, +angrily; "and I ask in well-feigned wonder: 'Surely you do not mean +Daisy Brooks, my mother's paid companion?'" + +"What do they say to that?" asked Gertie, laughing heartily at her +elder sister's ingenuity, and tossing her curl papers until every curl +threatened to tumble down. "That settles it, doesn't it?" + +"Mercy, no!" cried Bess, raising her eyebrows; "not a bit of it. The +more I say against her--in a sweet way, of course--the more they are +determined to form her acquaintance." + +"I don't see what every one can see in that little pink-and-white +baby-face of hers to rave over so!" cried Gertie, hotly. "I can't +imagine where in the world people see her. I have as much as told her +she was not expected to come into the parlor or drawing-room when +strangers were there, and what do you suppose she said?" + +"Cried, perhaps," said Bess, yawning with ennui. + +"She did nothing of the kind," retorted Gertie. "She seized my hand, +and said: 'Oh, Miss Gertrude, that is very kind of you, indeed! I +thank you ever so much!'" + +"Pshaw!" cried Bess, contemptuously. "That was a trick to make you +believe she did not want to be observed by our guests. She is a sly, +designing little creature, with her pretty face and soft, childish +ways." + +"But there is one point that seriously troubles me," said Gertie, +fastening the pink satin bow on her tiny slipper more securely, and +breaking off the thread with a nervous twitch. "I am seriously afraid, +if Rex were to see her, that would be the end of our castle in the +air. Daisy Brooks has just the face to attract a handsome, debonair +young fellow like Rex." + +"You can depend upon it he shall never see her," said Bess, decidedly. +"Where there's a will there's a way." + +"I have never been actually jealous of anyone before," said Gertie, +flushing furiously, as she acknowledged the fact; "but that Daisy has +such a way of attracting people toward her they quite forget your +presence when she is around. 'When one rival leaves the field, another +one is sure to come to the fore.' That's a true saying," said Gertie, +meditatively. "You see, he did not marry the heiress of Whitestone +Hall. So he is still in the market, to be captured by some lucky +girl." + +"Well, if I am the lucky one, you must forgive me, Gertie. All is fair +in love and war, you know. Besides, his wealth is too tempting to see +slip quietly by without a struggle." + +Before she could reply Eve popped in through the long French window +that opened out on the porch. + +"Oh, I'm so tired of hearing you two talk of lovers and riches!" she +cried, throwing herself down on the sofa. "I do hate to hear love +weighed against riches, as if it were a purchasable article. According +to your ideas, if a fellow was worth a hundred thousand, you would +love him moderately; but if he was worth half a million, you could +afford to love him immensely." + +"You have got a sensible idea of the matter," said Bess, coolly. + +"For shame!" cried Eve, in a hot fury. "It's an actual sin to talk in +that way. If a handsome young man loves you, and you love him, why, +you ought to marry him if he hadn't a dollar in the world!" + +Gertie and the worldly-wise Bess laughed at their younger sister's +enthusiasm. + +"Now, there's Rex Lyon, for instance," persisted Eve, absolutely +refusing to be silenced. "I would wager a box of the best kid gloves +either one of you would marry him to-morrow, if he were to ask you, if +he hadn't a penny in his pocket." + +"Pshaw!" reiterated Gertie, and Bess murmured something about absurd +ideas; but nevertheless both sisters were blushing furiously to the +very roots of their hair. They well knew in their hearts what she said +was perfectly true. + +"Eve," said Bess, laying her hand coaxingly on the young rebel's arm, +"Gertie and I want you to promise us something. Come, now, consent +that you will do as we wish, that's a good girl." + +"How can I promise before I know what you want?" said Eve, petulantly. +"You might want the man in the moon, after you've tried and failed to +get his earthly brethren, for all I know!" + +"Eve, you are actually absurd!" cried Bess, sharply. "This is merely a +slight favor we wish you to do." + +"If you warn her not to do a thing, that is just what she will set her +heart upon doing," said Gertie, significantly. + +By this time Eve's curiosity was well up. + +"You may as well tell me anyhow," she said; "for if you don't, and I +ever find out what it is, I'll do my very worst, because you kept it +from me." + +"Well," said Gertie, eagerly, "we want you to promise us not to give +Daisy Brooks an introduction to Rex Lyon." + +A defiant look stole over Eve's mischievous face. + +"If he asks me, I'm to turn and walk off, or I'm to say, 'No, sir, I +am under strict orders from my marriageable sisters not to.' Is that +what you mean?" + +"Eve," they both cried in chorus, "don't be unsisterly; don't put a +stumbling-block in our path; rather remove it!" + +"I shall not bind myself to such a promise!" cried Eve. "You are +trying to spoil my pet scheme. I believe you two are actually witches +and guessed it. What put it into your heads that I had any such +intentions anyhow?" + +"Then you were actually thinking of going against our interest in that +way," cried Gertie, white to the very lips, "you insolent little +minx!" + +"I don't choose to remain in such polite society," said Eve, with a +mocking courtesy, skipping toward the door. "I may take a notion to +write a little note to Mr. Rex, inviting him over here to see our +household fairy, just as the spirit moves me." + +This was really more than Gertie's warm, southern temper could bear. +She actually flew at the offending Eve in her rage; but Eve was nimble +of foot and disappeared up the stairway, three steps at a bound. + +"What a vixen our Gertie is growing to be!" she cried, pantingly, as +she reached the top step. + +She saw a light in Daisy's room, and tapped quietly on the door. + +"Is that you, Eve?" cried a smothered voice from the pillows. + +"Yes," replied Eve; "I'd like very much to come in. May I?" + +For answer, Daisy opened the door, but Eve stood quite still on the +threshold. + +"What's the matter, Daisy, have you been crying?" she demanded. "Why, +your eyelids are red and swollen, and your eyes glow like the stars. +Has Gertie or Bess said anything cross to you?" she inquired, +smoothing back the soft golden curls that clustered round the white +brow. + +"No," said Daisy, choking down a hard sob; "only I am very unhappy, +Eve, and I feel just--just as if every one in the world hated me." + +"How long have you been up here in your room?" asked Eve, suspiciously, +fearing Daisy had by chance overheard the late conversation +down-stairs. + +"Quite an hour," answered Daisy, truthfully. + +"Then you did not hear what I was talking about down-stairs, did you?" +she inquired, anxiously. + +"No," said Daisy, "you were playing over a new waltz when I came +upstairs." + +"Oh," said Eve, breathing freer, thinking to herself, "She has not +heard what we said. I am thankful for that." + +"You must not talk like that, Daisy," she said, gayly, clasping her +arms caressingly around the slender figure leaning against the +casement; "I predict great things in store for you--wonderful things. +Do not start and look at me so curiously, for I shall not tell you +anything else, for it is getting dangerously near a certain forbidden +subject. You know you warned me not to talk to you of love or lovers. +I intend to have a great surprise for you. That is all I'm going to +tell you now." + +Eve was almost frightened at the rapture that lighted up the beautiful +face raised to her own. + +"Has any one called for me, Eve?" she asked, piteously. "Oh, Eve, tell +me quickly. I have hoped against hope, almost afraid to indulge so +sweet a dream. Has any one inquired for me?" + +Eve shook her head, sorely puzzled. + +"Were you expecting any one to call?" she asked. She saw the light die +quickly out of the blue eyes and the rich peachlike bloom from the +delicate, dimpled cheeks. "I know something is troubling you greatly, +little Daisy," she said, "and I sympathize with you even if I may not +share your secret." + +"Every one is so cold and so cruel to me, I think I should die if I +were to lose your friendship, Eve," she said. + +Eve held the girl's soft white hand in hers. "You will never die, +then, if you wait for that event to happen. When I like a person, I +like them for all time. I never could pretend a friendship I did not +feel. And I said to myself the first moment I saw you: 'What a sweet +littly fairy! I shall love her, I'm sure.'" + +"And do you love me?" asked Daisy. + +"Yes," said Eve; "my friendship is a lasting one. I could do almost +anything for you." + +She wondered why Daisy took her face between her soft little palms and +looked so earnestly down into her eyes, and kissed her lips so +repeatedly. + +Poor Daisy! if she had only confided in Eve--reckless, impulsive, +warm-hearted, sympathetic Eve--it might have been better for her. "No +matter what you might hear of me in the future, no matter what fate +might tempt me to do, promise me, Eve, that you, of all the world, +will believe in me, you will not lose your faith in me." The sweet +voice sounded hollow and unnatural. "There are dark, pitiful secrets +in many lives," she said, "that drive one to the very verge of madness +in their woe. If you love me, pray for me, Eve. My feet are on the +edge of a terrible precipice." + +In after years Eve never forgot the haunted look of despair that +crossed the fair face of Daisy Brooks, as the words broke from her +lips in a piteous cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +The announcement of Mrs. Lyon's sudden and unexpected death caused +great excitement and consternation the next morning at Glengrove. + +"Oh, dear!" cried Gertie, "how provokingly unfortunate for her to die +just now! Why couldn't she have waited until after our birthday party? +Of course Rex wouldn't be expected to come now; and this whole matter +was arranged especially for him; and my beautiful lilac silk is all +made, and so bewitchingly lovely, too!" + +"What can't be cured must be endured, you know," said Bess; "and now +the best thing to be done is to send a note of condolence to him, +extending our deepest sympathy, and offering him any assistance in our +power; and be sure to add: 'We would be very pleased to have Birdie +come over here until you can make other arrangements for her.'" + +"Have Birdie here!" flashed Gertie, angrily. "I actually think you +have gone crazy!" + +"Well, there is certainly a method in my madness," remarked Bess. +"Aren't you quick-witted enough to understand that would be a sure way +of bringing Rex over here every day?--he would come to see his +sister--and that is quite a point gained." + +"You are rather clever, Bess; I never thought of that." + +And straightway the perfumed little note was dispatched, bearing +Gertie's monogram and tender-worded sympathy to the handsome young +heir, who sat all alone in that darkened chamber, wondering why Heaven +had been so unkind to him. + +An hour later Bess and Gertie were in the library arranging some new +volumes on the shelves. Mrs. Glenn sat in a large easy-chair +superintending the affair, while Daisy stood at an open window, +holding the book from which she had been reading aloud in her restless +fingers, her blue eyes gazing earnestly on the distant curling smoke +that rose up lazily from the chimneys of Rex's home, and upon the +brilliant sunshine that lighted up the eastern windows with a blaze of +glory--as if there was no such thing as death or sorrow within those +palatial walls--when Rex's answer was received. + +"It is from Rex!" cried Gertie, all in a flutter. "Shall I read it +aloud, mamma?" she asked, glancing furtively at Daisy, who stood at +the window, her pale, death-like face half buried in the lace +curtains. + +"It is certainly not a personal letter," said Bess, maliciously +glancing at the superscription. "Don't you see it is addressed to +'Mrs. Glenn and daughters.'" + +"In a time like that people don't think much of letters," commented +Mrs. Glenn, apologetically. "Read the letter aloud, of course, my +dear." + +It read: + + "DEAR LADIES,--I thank you more than I can express for your kind + sympathy in my present sad bereavement. I would gladly have + accepted your offer of bringing my dear little orphan sister to + you, had I not received a telegram this morning from Miss Pluma + Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, West Virginia, announcing her + intention of coming on at once, accompanied by Mrs. Corliss, to + take charge of little Birdie. + + "Again thanking you for the courtesy and kindness shown me, I am + + "Yours very truly, + "REXFORD LYON." + +There was a low, gasping, piteous cry; and the little figure at the +window slipped down among the soft, billowy curtains in a deadly +swoon; but the three, so deeply engrossed in discussing the contents +of the note, did not notice it. At last Daisy opened her eyes, and the +blue eyes were dazed with pain. She could hear them coupling the names +of Rex and Pluma Hurlhurst. Rex--her husband! + +Daisy was blind and stupefied. She groped rather than walked from the +library--away from the three, who scarcely noticed her absence. + +Who cared that her heart was broken? Who cared that the cruel stab had +gone home to her tender, bleeding heart; that the sweet young face was +whiter than the petals of the star-bells tossing their white plumes +against the casement? + +Slowly, blindly, with one hand grasping the balusters, she went up the +broad staircase to her own room. + +She tried to think of everything on the way except the one thing that +had taken place. She thought of the story she had read, of a girl who +was slain by having a dagger plunged into her breast. The girl ran a +short distance, and when the dagger was drawn from the wound, she fell +down dead. In some way she fancied she was like that girl--that, when +she should reach her own room and stand face to face with her own +pain, she should drop down dead. + +The door was closed, and she stood motionless, trying to understand +and realize what she had heard. + +"Have my senses deceived me?" She said the words over and over to +herself. "Did I dream it? Can it even be possible Pluma Hurlhurst is +coming here, coming to the home where I should have been? God help me. +Coming to comfort Rex--my husband!" + +She could fancy the darkly beautiful face bending over him; her white +jeweled hands upon his shoulder, or, perhaps, smoothing back the bonny +brown clustering curls from his white brow. + +"My place should have been by his side," she continued. + +It hurt and pained her to hear the name of the man she loved dearer +than life mentioned with the name of Pluma Hurlhurst. + +"Oh, Rex, my love, my love!" she cried out, "I can not bear it any +longer. The sun of my life has gone down in gloom and chill. Oh, Rex, +my husband, I have not the strength nor the courage to bear it. I am a +coward. I can not give you up. We are living apart under the blue, +smiling sky and the golden sun. Yet in the sight of the angels, I am +your wife." + +Suddenly, the solemn bells from Rex's home commenced tolling, and +through the leafy branches of the trees she caught a glimpse of a +white face and bowed head, and of a proud, cold face bending +caressingly over it, just as she had pictured it in her imagination. + +Dear Heaven! it was Rex and Pluma! She did not moan. She did not cry +out, nor utter even a sigh. Like one turned to marble she, the poor +little misguided child-wife, stood watching them with an intentness +verging almost into madness. + +She saw him lift his head wearily from his white hands, rise slowly, +and then, side by side, both disappeared from the window. + +After that Daisy never knew how the moments passed. She remembered the +tidy little waiting-maid coming to her and asking if she would please +come down to tea. She shook her head but no sound issued from the +white lips, and the maid went softly away, closing the door behind +her. + +Slowly the sun sunk in the west in a great red ball of fire. The light +died out of the sky, and the song birds trilled their plaintive +good-night songs in the soft gloaming. Still Daisy sat with her hands +crossed in her lap, gazing intently at the window, where she had seen +Pluma standing with Rex, her husband. + +A hand turned the knob of her door. + +"Oh, dear me," cried Gertie, "you are all in the dark. I do not see +you. Are you here, Daisy Brooks?" + +"Yes," said Daisy, controlling her voice by a violent effort. "Won't +you sit down? I will light the gas." + +"Oh, no, indeed!" cried Gertie. "I came up to ask you if you would +please sew a little on my ball dress to-night. I can not use it just +now; still, there is no need of putting it away half finished." + +Sew on a ball dress while her heart was breaking! Oh, how could she do +it? Quietly she followed Gertie to her pretty little blue and gold +boudoir, making no remonstrance. She was to sew on a ball dress while +the heiress of Whitestone Hall was consoling her young husband in his +bitter sorrow? + +The shimmering billows of silk seemed swimming before her eyes, and +the frost-work of seed-pearls to waver through the blinding tears that +would force themselves to her eyes. Eve was not there. How pitifully +lonely poor Daisy felt! The face, bent so patiently over the lilac +silk, had a strange story written upon it. But the two girls, +discussing the events of the day, did not glance once in her +direction; their thoughts and conversation were of the handsome young +heiress and Rex. + +"For once in your life you were wrong," said Bess. "The way affairs +appear now does not look much like a broken-off marriage, I can assure +you." + +"Those who have seen her say she is peculiarly beautiful and +fascinating, though cold, reserved, and as haughty as a queen," said +Gertie. + +"Cold and reserved," sneered Bess. "I guess you would not have thought +so if you had been at the drawing-room window to-day and seen her +bending over Rex so lovingly. I declare I expected every moment to see +her kiss him." + +The box which held the seed-pearls dropped to the floor with a crash, +and the white, glistening beads were scattered about in all +directions. + +"Why, what a careless creature you are, Daisy Brooks!" cried Gertie, +in dismay. "Just see what you have done! Half of them will be lost, +and what is not lost will be smashed, and I had just enough to finish +that lily on the front breadth and twine among the blossoms for my +hair. What do you suppose I'm going to do now, you provoking girl? It +is actually enough to make one cry." + +"I am so sorry," sighed Daisy, piteously. + +"Sorry! Will that bring back my seed-pearls? I have half a mind to +make mamma deduct the amount from your salary." + +"You may have it all if it will only replace them," said Daisy, +earnestly. "I think, though, I have gathered them all up." + +A great, round tear rolled off from her long, silky eyelashes and into +the very heart of the frosted lily over which she bent, but the lily's +petals seemed to close about it, leaving no trace of its presence. + +Bessie and Gertie openly discussed their chagrin and keen disappointment, +yet admitting what a handsome couple Rex and Pluma made--he so courteous +and noble, she so royal and queenly. + +"Of course we must call upon her if she is to be Rex's wife," said +Gertie, spitefully. "I foresee she will be exceedingly popular." + +"We must also invite her to Glengrove," said Bess, thoughtfully. "It +is the least we can do, and it is expected of us. I quite forgot to +mention one of their servants was telling Jim both Rex and little +Birdie intend to accompany Miss Hurlhurst back to Whitestone Hall as +soon after the funeral as matters can be arranged." + +"Why, that is startling news indeed! Why, then, they will probably +leave some time this week!" cried Gertie. + +"Most probably," said Bess. "You ought certainly to send over your +note this evening--it is very early yet." + +"There is no one to send," said Gertie. "Jim has driven over to +Natchez, and there is no one else to go." + +"Perhaps Daisy will go for you," suggested Bess. + +There was no need of being jealous _now_ of Daisy's beauty in that +direction. Gertie gladly availed herself of the suggestion. + +"Daisy," she said, turning abruptly to the quivering little figure, +whose face drooped over the lilac silk, "never mind finishing that +dress to-night. I wish you to take a note over to the large gray stone +house yonder, and be sure to deliver it to Mr. Rex Lyon himself." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Gertie Glenn never forgot the despairing cry that broke from Daisy's +white lips as she repeated her command: + +"I wish you to deliver this note to Mr. Rex Lyon himself." + +"Oh, Miss Gertie," she cried, clasping her hands together in an agony +of entreaty, "I can not--oh, indeed I can not! Ask anything of me but +that and I will gladly do it!" + +Both girls looked at her in sheer astonishment. + +"What is the reason you can not?" cried Gertie, in utter amazement. "I +do not comprehend you." + +"I--I can not take the note," she said, in a frightened whisper. "I do +not--I--" + +She stopped short in utter confusion. + +"I choose you shall do just as I bid you," replied Gertie, in her +imperious, scornful anger. "It really seems to me you forget your +position here, Miss Brooks. How dare you refuse me?" + +Opposition always strengthened Gertie's decision, and she determined +Daisy should take her note to Rex Lyon at all hazards. + +The eloquent, mute appeal in the blue eyes raised to her own was +utterly lost on her. + +"The pride of these dependent companions is something ridiculous," she +went on, angrily. "You consider yourself too fine, I suppose, to be +made a messenger of." Gertie laughed aloud, a scornful, mocking laugh. +"Pride and poverty do not work very well together. You may go to your +room now and get your hat and shawl. I shall have the letter written +in a very few minutes. There will be no use appealing to mamma. You +ought to know by this time we overrule her objections always." + +It was too true, Mrs. Glenn never had much voice in a matter where +Bess or Gertie had decided the case. + +Like one in a dream Daisy turned from them. She never remembered how +she gained her own room. With cold, tremulous fingers she fastened her +hat, tucking the bright golden hair carefully beneath her veil, and +threw her shawl over her shoulders, just as Gertie approached, letter +in hand. + +"You need not go around by the main road," she said, "there is a much +nearer path leading down to the stone wall. You need not wait for an +answer: there will be none. The servants over there are awkward, +blundering creatures--do not trust it to them--you must deliver it to +Rex himself." + +"I make one last appeal to you, Miss Gertie. Indeed, it is not pride +that prompts me. I could not bear it. Have pity on me. You are gentle +and kind to others; please, oh, please be merciful to me!" + +"I have nothing more to say upon the subject--I have said you were to +go. You act as if I were sending you to some place where you might +catch the scarlet fever or the mumps. You amuse me; upon my word you +do. Rex is not dangerous, neither is he a Bluebeard; his only fault is +being alarmingly handsome. The best advice I can give you is, don't +admire him too much. He should be labeled, 'Out of the market.'" + +Gertie tripped gayly from the room, her crimson satin ribbons +fluttering after her, leaving a perceptible odor of violets in the +room, while Daisy clutched the note in her cold, nervous grasp, +walking like one in a terrible dream through the bright patches of +glittering moonlight, through the sweet-scented, rose-bordered path, +on through the dark shadows of the trees toward the home of Rex--her +husband. + +A soft, brooding silence lay over the sleeping earth as Daisy, with a +sinking heart, drew near the house. Her soft footfalls on the green +mossy earth made no sound. + +Silently as a shadow she crept up to the blossom-covered porch; some +one was standing there, leaning against the very pillar around which +she had twined her arms as she watched Rex's shadow on the roses. + +The shifting moonbeams pierced the white, fleecy clouds that enveloped +them, and as he turned his face toward her she saw it was Rex. She +could almost have reached out her hand and touched him from where she +stood. She was sorely afraid her face or her voice might startle him +if she spoke to him suddenly. + +"I do not need to speak," she thought. "I will go up to him and lay +the letter in his hand." + +Then a great intense longing came over her to hear his voice and know +that he was speaking to her. She had quite decided to pursue this +course, when the rustle of a silken garment fell upon her ear. She +knew the light tread of the slippered feet but too well--it was Pluma. +She went up to him in her usual caressing fashion, laying her white +hand on his arm. + +"Do you know you have been standing here quite two hours, Rex, +watching the shadows of the vine-leaves? I have longed to come up and +ask you what interest those dancing shadows had for you, but I could +not make up my mind to disturb you. I often fancy you do not know how +much time you spend in thought." + +Pluma was wondering if he was thinking of that foolish, romantic fancy +that had come so near separating them--his boyish fancy for Daisy +Brooks, their overseer's niece. No, surely not. He must have forgotten +her long ago. + +"These reveries seem to have grown into a habit with me," he said, +dreamily; "almost a second nature, of late. If you were to come and +talk to me at such times, you would break me of it." + +The idea pleased her. A bright flush rose to her face, and she made +him some laughing reply, and he looked down upon her with a kindly +smile. + +Oh! the torture of it to the poor young wife standing watching them, +with heart on fire in the deep shadow of the crimson-hearted +passion-flowers that quivered on the intervening vines. The letter she +held in her hand slipped from her fingers into the bushes all +unheeded. She had but one thought--she must get away. The very air +seemed to stifle her; her heart seemed numb--an icy band seemed +pressing round it, and her poor forehead was burning hot. It did not +matter much where she went, nobody loved her, nobody cared for her. As +softly as she came, she glided down the path that led to the +entrance-gate beyond. She passed through the moonlighted grounds, +where the music and fragrance of the summer night was at its height. +The night wind stirred the pink clover and the blue-bells beneath her +feet. Her eyes were hot and dry; tears would have been a world of +relief to her, but none came to her parched eyelids. + +She paid little heed to the direction she took. One idea alone took +possession of her--she must get away. + +"If I could only go back to dear old Uncle John," she sighed. "His +love has never failed me." + +It seemed long years back since she had romped with him, a happy, +merry child, over the cotton fields, and he had called her his sunbeam +during all those years when no one lived at Whitestone Hall and the +wild ivy climbed riotously over the windows and doors. Even Septima's +voice would have sounded so sweet to her. She would have lived over +again those happy, childish days, if she only could. She remembered +how Septima would send her to the brook for water, and how she +sprinkled every flower in the path-way that bore her name; and how +Septima would scold her when she returned with her bucket scarce half +full; and how she had loved to dream away those sunny summer days, +lying under the cool, shady trees, listening to the songs the robins +sang as they glanced down at her with their little sparkling eyes. + +How she had dreamed of the gallant young hero who was to come to her +some day. She had wondered how she would know him, and what were the +words he first would say! If he would come riding by, as the judge did +when "Maud Muller stood in the hay-fields;" and she remembered, too, +the story of "Rebecca at the Well." A weary smile flitted over her +face as she remembered when she went to the brook she had always put +on her prettiest blue ribbons, in case she might meet her hero. + +Oh, those sweet, bright, rosy dreams of girlhood! What a pity it is +they do not last forever! Those girlish dreams, where glowing fancy +reigns supreme, and the prosaic future is all unknown. She remembered +her meeting with Rex, how every nerve in her whole being thrilled, and +how she had felt her cheeks grow flaming hot, just as she had read +they would do when she met the right one. That was how she had known +Rex was the right one when she had shyly glanced up, from under her +long eyelashes, into the gay, brown hazel eyes, fixed upon her so +quizzically, as he took the heavy basket from her slender arms, that +never-to-be-forgotten June day, beneath the blossoming magnolia-tree. + +Poor child! her life had been a sad romance since then. How strange it +was she was fleeing from the young husband whom she had married and +was so quickly parted from! + +All this trouble had come about because she had so courageously +rescued her letter from Mme. Whitney. + +"If he had not bound me to secrecy, I could have have cried out before +the whole world I was his wife," she thought. + +A burning flush rose to her face as she thought how cruelly he had +suspected her, this poor little child-bride who had never known one +wrong or sinful thought in her pure, innocent young life. + +If he had only given her the chance of explaining how she had happened +to be there with Stanwick; if they had taken her back she must have +confessed about the letter and who Rex was and what he was to her. + +Even Stanwick's persecution found an excuse in her innocent, +unsuspecting little heart. + +"He sought to save me from being taken back when he called me his +wife," she thought. "He believed I was free to woo and win, because I +dared not tell him I was Rex's wife." Yet the thought of Stanwick +always brought a shudder to her pure young mind. She could not +understand why he would have resorted to such desperate means to gain +an unwilling bride. + +"Not yet seventeen. Ah, what a sad love-story hers had been. How +cruelly love's young dream had been blighted," she told herself; and +yet she would not have exchanged that one thrilling, ecstatic moment +of rapture when Rex had clasped her in his arms and whispered: "My +darling wife," for a whole lifetime of calm happiness with any one +else. + +On and on she walked through the violet-studded grass, thinking--thinking. +Strange fancies came thronging to her overwrought brain. She pushed her +veil back from her face and leaned against the trunk of a tree; her brain +was dizzy and her thoughts were confused; the very stars seemed dancing +riotously in the blue sky above her, and the branches of the trees were +whispering strange fancies. Suddenly a horseman, riding a coal-black +charger, came cantering swiftly up the long avenue of trees. He saw the +quiet figure standing leaning against the drooping branches. + +"I will inquire the way," he said to himself, drawing rein beside her. +"Can you tell me, madame, if this is the most direct road leading to +Glengrove and that vicinity? I am looking for a hostelry near it. I +seem to have lost my way. Will you kindly direct me?" he asked, "or to +the home of Mr. Rex Lyon?" + +The voice sounded strangely familiar to Daisy. She was dimly conscious +some one was speaking to her. She raised her face up and gazed at the +speaker. The cold, pale moonlight fell full upon it, clearly revealing +its strange, unearthly whiteness, and the bright flashing eyes, gazing +dreamily past the terror-stricken man looking down on her, with white, +livid lips and blanched, horror-stricken face. His eyes almost leaped +from their sockets in abject terror, as Lester Stanwick gazed on the +upturned face by the roadside. + +"My God, do I dream?" he cried, clutching at the pommel of his saddle. +"Is this the face of Daisy Brooks, or is it a specter, unable to sleep +in the depths of her tomb, come back to haunt me for driving her to +her doom?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +Rex and Pluma talked for some time out in the moonlight, then Rex +excused himself, and on the plea of having important business letters +to write retired to the library. + +For some minutes Pluma leaned thoughtfully against the railing. The +night was still and clear; the moon hung over the dark trees; floods +of silvery light bathed the waters of the glittering sea, the sleeping +flowers and the grass, and on the snowy orange-blossoms and golden +fruit amid the green foliage. + +"I shall always love this fair southern home," she thought, a bright +light creeping into her dark, dazzling eyes. "I am Fortune's +favorite," she said, slowly. "I shall have the one great prize I covet +most on earth. I shall win Rex at last. I wonder at the change in him. +There was a time when I believed he loved me. Could it be handsome, +refined, courteous Rex had more than a passing fancy for Daisy +Brooks--simple, unpretentious Daisy Brooks? Thank God she is dead!" +she cried, vehemently. "I would have periled my very soul to have won +him." + +Even as the thought shaped itself in her mind, a dark form stepped +cautiously forward. + +She was not startled; a passing wonder as to who it might be struck +her. She did not think much about it; a shadow in the moonlight did +not frighten her. + +"Pluma!" called a low, cautious voice, "come down into the garden; I +must speak with you. It is I, Lester Stanwick." + +In a single instant the soft love-light had faded from her face, +leaving it cold, proud, and pitiless. A vague, nameless dread seized +her. She was a courageous girl; she would not let him know it. + +"The mad fool!" she cried, clinching her white jeweled hands together. +"Why does he follow me here? What shall I do? I must buy him off at +any cost. I dare not defy him. Better temporize with him." She +muttered the words aloud, and she was shocked to see how changed and +hoarse her own voice sounded. "Women have faced more deadly peril than +this," she muttered, "and cleverly outwitted ingenious foes. I _must_ +win by stratagem." + +She quickly followed the tall figure down the path that divided the +little garden from the shrubbery. + +"I knew you would not refuse me, Pluma," he said, clasping her hands +and kissing her cold lips. He noticed the glance she gave him had +nothing in it but coldness and annoyance. "You do not tell me you are +pleased to see me, Pluma, and yet you have promised to be my wife." +She stood perfectly still leaning against an oleander-tree. "Why don't +you speak to me, Pluma?" he cried. "By Heaven! I am almost beginning +to mistrust you. You remember your promise," he said, hurriedly--"if I +removed the overseer's niece from your path you were to reward me +with your heart and hand." She would have interrupted him, but he +silenced her with a gesture. "You said your love for Rex had turned to +bitter hatred. You found he loved the girl, and that would be a +glorious revenge. I did not have to resort to abducting her from the +seminary as we had planned. The bird flew into my grasp. I would have +placed her in the asylum you selected, but she eluded me by leaping +into the pit. I have been haunted by her face night and day ever +since. I see her face in crowds, in the depths of the silent forest, +her specter appears before me until I fly from it like one accursed." + +She could not stay the passionate torrent of his words. + +"Lester, this is all a mistake," she said; "you have not given me a +chance to speak." Her hands dropped nervously by her side. There were +fierce, rebellious thoughts in her heart, but she dare not give them +utterance. "What have I done to deserve all this?" she asked, trying +to assume a tender tone she was far from feeling. + +"What have you done?" he cried, hoarsely. "Why, I left you at +Whitestone Hall, feeling secure in the belief that I had won you. +Returning suddenly and unexpectedly, I found you had gone to Florida, +to the home of Rex Lyon. Do you know what I would have done, Pluma, if +I had found you his wife and false to your trust?" + +"You forget yourself, Lester," she said; "gentlemen never threaten +women." + +He bit his lip angrily. + +"There are extreme cases of desperation," he made reply. "You must +keep your promise," he said, determinedly. "No other man must dare +speak to you of love." + +She saw the angry light flame into his eyes, and trembled under her +studied composure; yet not the quiver of an eyelid betrayed her +emotion. She had not meant to quarrel with him; for once in her life +she forgot her prudence. + +"Suppose that, by exercise of any power you think you possess, you +could really compel me to be your wife, do you think it would benefit +you? I would learn to despise you. What would you gain by it?" + +The answer sprung quickly to his lips: "The one great point for which +I am striving--possession of Whitestone Hall;" but he was too +diplomatic to utter the words. She saw a lurid light in his eyes. + +"You shall be my wife," he said, gloomily. "If you have been +cherishing any hope of winning Rex Lyon, abandon it at once. As a +last resort, I would explain to him how cleverly you removed the +pretty little girl he loved from his path." + +"You dare not!" she cried, white to the very lips. "You have forgotten +your own share in that little affair. Who would believe you acted upon +a woman's bidding? You would soon be called to account for it. You +forget that little circumstance, Lester; you dare not go to Rex!" He +knew what she said was perfectly true. He had not intended going to +Rex; he knew it would be as much as his life was worth to encounter +him. He was aware his name had been coupled with Daisy's in the +journals which had described her tragic death. He knew Rex had fallen +madly, desperately in love with little Daisy Brooks, but he did not +dream he had made her his wife. "You have not given me time to explain +why I am here." + +"I have heard all about it," he answered, impatiently; "but I do not +understand why they sent for you." + +"Mrs. Lyon requested it," she replied, quietly. "Rex simply obeyed her +wishes." + +"Perhaps she looked upon you as her future daughter-in-law," sneered +Lester, covertly. "I have followed you to Florida to prevent it; I +would follow you to the ends of the earth to prevent it! A promise to +me can not be lightly broken." + +Not a feature of that proud face quivered to betray the sharp spasm of +fear that darted through her heart. + +"You should have waited until you had cause to reproach me, Lester," +she said, drawing her wrap closer about her and shivering as if with +cold. "I must go back to the house now; some one might miss me." + +He made no reply. The wind bent the reeds, and the waves of the sea +dashed up on the distant beach with a long, low wash. He was wondering +how far she was to be trusted. + +"You may have perfect confidence in me, Lester," she said; "my word +ought to be sufficient," as if quite divining his thoughts. "You need +have no fear; I will be true to you." + +"I shall remain away until this affair has blown over," he replied. "I +can live as well in one part of the country as another, thanks to the +income my father left me." He laid great stress on the last sentence; +he wanted to impress her with the fact that he had plenty of money. +"She must never know," he told himself, "that he had so riotously +squandered the vast inheritance that had been left him, and he was +standing on the verge of ruin." A marriage with the wealthy heiress +would save him at the eleventh hour. "I will trust you, Pluma," he +continued. "I know, you will keep your vow." + +The false ring of apparent candor did not deceive her; she knew it +would be a case of diamond cut diamond. + +"That is spoken like your own generous self, Lester," she said, +softly, clasping his hands in her own white, jeweled ones. "You pained +me by your distrust." + +He saw she was anxious to get away from him, and he bit his lip with +vexation; her pretty, coaxing manner did not deceive him one whit, yet +he clasped his arms in a very lover-like fashion around her as he +replied: + +"Forget that it ever existed, my darling. Where there is such ardent, +passionate love, there is always more or less jealousy and fear. Do +you realize I am making an alien of myself for your sweet sake? I +could never refuse you a request. Your slightest will has been my law. +Be kind to me, Pluma." + +She did try to be more than agreeable and fascinating. + +"I must remove all doubts from his mind," she thought. "I shall +probably be Rex's wife when we meet again. Then his threats will be +useless; I will scornfully deny it. He has no proofs." + +She talked to him so gracefully, so tenderly, at times, he was almost +tempted to believe she actually cared for him more than she would +admit. Still he allowed it would do no harm to keep a strict watch of +her movements. + +"Good-bye, Pluma, dearest," he said, "I shall keep you constantly +advised of my whereabouts. As soon as matters can be arranged +satisfactorily, I am coming back to claim you." + +Another moment and she was alone, walking slowly back to the house, a +very torrent of anger in her proud, defiant heart. + +"I must hurry matters up, delays are dangerous," she thought, walking +slowly up the broad path toward the house. + + * * * * * + +Slowly the long hours of the night dragged themselves by, yet Daisy +did not return to Glengrove. The hours lengthened into days, and days +into weeks, still there was no trace of her to be found. Gertie's +explanation readily accounted for her absence. + +"She preferred to leave us rather than deliver my note," she said, +angrily; "and I for one am not sorry she has gone." + +"Rex did not mention having received it," said Bess, "when he came +with Birdie to bid us good-bye." + +"She probably read it and destroyed it," said Gertie, "Well, there was +nothing in it very particular. Toward the last of it I mentioned I +would send the note over by Daisy Brooks, my mother's companion. More +than likely she took umbrage at that." + +"That was a very unkind remark," asserted Eve. "You had no business to +mention it at all; it was uncalled for." + +"Well, she would not have known it if she had not read it," replied +Gertie. "You must admit that." + +Mrs. Glenn felt sorely troubled. In the short time Daisy had been with +her she had put unlimited confidence in her. + +No one thought of searching for her; they all accepted the facts as +the case presented itself to them. Daisy had certainly left them of +her own free will. + +Eve alone felt distressed. + +"I know everything looks that way, but I shall never believe it," she +cried. + +She remembered the conversation she had so lately had with Daisy. How +she had clasped her loving little arms about her neck, crying out: + +"Pray for me, Eve. I am sorely tried. My feet are on the edge of a +precipice. No matter what I may be tempted to do, do not lose faith in +me, Eve; always believe in me." + +Poor little Daisy! what was the secret sorrow that was goading her on +to madness? Would she ever know? + +Where was she now? Ah, who could tell? + +A curious change seemed to come over romping, mischievous, merry Eve; +she had grown silent and thoughtful. + +"I could never believe any one in this world was true or pure again if +I thought for one moment deceit lay brooding in a face so fair as +little Daisy Brooks's." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +The months flew quickly by; the cold winter had slipped away, and the +bright green grass and early violets were sprinkling the distant +hill-slopes. The crimson-breasted robins were singing in the budding +branches of the trees, and all Nature reminded one the glorious spring +had come. + +Rex Lyon stood upon the porch of Whitestone Hall gazing up at the +white, fleecy clouds that scudded over the blue sky, lost in deep +thought. + +He was the same handsome, debonair Rex, but ah, how changed! The +merry, laughing brown eyes looked silent and grave enough now, and the +lips the drooping brown mustache covered rarely smiled. Even his voice +seemed to have a deeper tone. + +He had done the one thing that morning which his mother had asked him +to do with her dying breath--he had asked Pluma Hurlhurst to be his +wife. + +The torture of the task seemed to grow upon him as the weeks rolled +by, and in desperation he told himself he must settle the matter at +once, or he would not have the strength to do it. + +He never once thought what he should do with his life after he married +her. He tried to summon up courage to tell her the story of his +marriage, that his hopes, his heart, and his love all lay in the grave +of his young wife. Poor Rex, he could not lay bare that sweet, sad +secret; he could not have borne her questions, her wonder, her +remarks, and have lived; his dead love was far too sacred for that; he +could not take the treasured love-story from his heart and hold it up +to public gaze. It would have been easier for him to tear the living, +beating heart from his breast than to do this. + +He had walked into the parlor that morning, where he knew he should +find Pluma. She was standing before the fire. Although it was early +spring the mornings were chilly, and a cheerful fire burned in the +grate, throwing a bright, glowing radiance over the room and over the +exquisite morning toilet of white cashmere, with its white lace +frills, relieved here and there with coquettish dashes of scarlet +blossoms, which Pluma wore, setting off her graceful figure to such +queenly advantage. + +Rex looked at her, at the imperious beauty any man might have been +proud to win, secretly hoping she would refuse him. + +"Good-morning, Rex," she said, holding out her white hands to him. "I +am glad you have come to talk to me. I was watching you walking up and +down under the trees, and you looked so lonely I half made up my mind +to join you." + +A lovely color was deepening in her cheeks, and her eyes drooped +shyly. He broke right into the subject at once while he had the +courage to do it. + +"I have something to say to you, Pluma," he began, leading her to an +adjacent sofa and seating himself beside her. "I want to ask you if +you will be my wife." He looked perhaps the more confused of the two. +"I will do my best to make you happy," he continued. "I can not say +that I will make a model husband, but I will say I will do my best." + +There was a minute's silence, awkward enough for both. + +"You have asked me to be your wife, Rex, but you have not said one +word of loving me." + +The remark was so unexpected Rex seemed for a few moments to be +unable to reply to it. Looking at the eager, expectant face turned +toward him, it appeared ungenerous and unkind not to give her one +affectionate word. Yet he did not know how to say it; he had never +spoken a loving word to any one except Daisy, his fair little +child-bride. + +He tried hard to put the memory of Daisy away from him as he +answered: + +"The question is so important that most probably I have thought more +of it than of any words which should go with it." + +"Oh, that is it," returned Pluma, with a wistful little laugh. "Most +men, when they ask women to marry them, say something of love, do they +not?" + +"Yes," he replied, absently. + +"You have had no experience," laughed Pluma, archly. + +She was sorely disappointed. She had gone over in her own imagination +this very scene a thousand times, of the supreme moment he would clasp +his arms around her, telling her in glowing, passionate words how +dearly he loved her and how wretched his life would be without her. He +did nothing of the kind. + +Rex was thinking he would have given anything to have been able to +make love to her--anything for the power of saying tender words--she +looked so loving. + +Her dark, beautiful face was so near him, and her graceful figure so +close, that he could have wound his arm around her, but he did not. In +spite of every resolve, he thought of Daisy the whole time. How +different that other love-making had been! How his heart throbbed, and +every endearing name he could think of trembled on his lips, as he +strained Daisy to his heart when she had bashfully consented to be his +wife! + +That love-making was real substance; this one only the shadow of +love. + +"You have not answered my question, Pluma. Will you be my wife?" + +Pluma raised her dark, beautiful face, radiant with the light of love, +to his. + +"If I consent will you promise to love me better than anything else or +any one in the wide world?" + +"I will devote my whole life to you, study your every wish," he +answered, evasively. + +How was she to know he had given all his heart to Daisy? + +She held out her hands to him with a charming gesture of affection. He +took them and kissed them; he could do neither more nor less. + +"I will be your wife, Rex," she said, with a tremulous, wistful sigh. + +"Thank you, Pluma," he returned, gently, bending down and kissing the +beautiful crimson lips; "you shall never regret it. You are so kind, +I am going to impose on your good nature. You have promised me you +will be my wife--when may I claim you, Pluma?" + +"Do you wish it to be soon?" she asked, hesitatingly, wondering how he +would answer her. + +"Yes," he said, absently; "the sooner it is over the better I shall be +pleased." + +She looked up into his face, at a loss how to interpret the words. + +"You shall set the day, Rex," she replied. + +"I have your father's consent that it may take place just as soon as +possible, in case you promised to marry me," he said. "Suppose it +takes place in a fortnight, say--will that be too soon for you?" + +She gave a little scream of surprise. "As soon as that?" she murmured; +but ended by readily consenting. + +He thanked her and kissed her once more. After a few quiet words they +parted--she, happy in the glamour of her love-dream; he, praying to +Heaven from the depths of his miserable heart, to give him strength to +carry out the rash vow which had been wrung from his unwilling lips. + +In his heart Rex knew no one but Daisy could ever reign. Dead, he was +devoted to her memory. + +His life was narrowing down. He was all kindness, consideration and +devotion; but the one supreme magnet of all--love--was wanting. + +In vain Pluma exerted all her wondrous powers of fascination to win +him more completely. How little he dreamed of the depths of love which +controlled that passionate heart, every throb of which was for +him--that to have won from him one token of warm affection she would +have given all she held dear in this world. + +"How does it happen, Rex," she asked, one evening, "you have not asked +me to sing to you since you have asked me to be your wife? Music used +to be such a bond of sympathy between us." + +There was both love and reproach in her voice. He heard neither. He +had simply forgotten it. + +"I have been thinking of other things, I presume. Allow me to make up +for it at once, however, by asking you if you will sing for me now." + +The tears came to her dark, flashing eyes, but she forced them bravely +back. She had hoped he would clasp her in his arms, whispering some +sweet compliment, then say to her "Darling, won't you sing to me +now?" + +She swept toward the piano with the air of a queen. + +"I want you to sit where I can see you, Rex," she demanded, prettily; +"I like to watch your face when I sing you my favorite songs." + +Rex drew his chair up close to the piano, laying his head back +dreamily against the crimson cushions. He would not be obliged to +talk; for once--just once--he would let his fancies roam where they +would. He had often heard Pluma sing before, but never in the way +she sung to-night. A low, thrilling, seductive voice full of +pleading, passionate tenderness--a voice that whispered of the +sweet irresistible power of love, that carried away the hearts of +her listeners as a strong current carries a leaflet. + +Was it a dream, or was it the night wind breathing the name of Daisy? +The tears rose in his eyes, and he started to his feet, pale and +trembling with agitation. Suddenly the music ceased. + +"I did not think such a simple little melody had power to move you," +she said. + +"Is it a new song?" he asked. "I do not remember having heard it +before. What is the title of it?" + +He did not notice her face had grown slightly pale under the soft, +pearly light of the gleaming lamps, as she held the music out toward +him. + +"It is a pretty title," she said, in her low, musical voice, "'Daisies +Growing o'er my Darling's Grave.'" + +In the terrible look of agony that swept over his handsome face, Pluma +read the secret of his life; the one secret she had dreaded stood as +clearly revealed to her as though it had been stamped in glowing +letters upon his brow. She would have stood little chance of being +Rex's wife if Daisy Brooks had lived. + +Who would have dreamed the beautiful, proud young heiress could have +cursed the very memory of the young girl whom she believed to be +dead--lying all uncared for in a neglected, lonely grave? + +Rex felt sorely disturbed. He never remembered how the remainder of +the evening passed. Ah, heavens! how his mind wandered back to that +sweet love-dream so cruelly broken. A mist as of tears spread before +his eyes, and shut the whole world from him as he glanced out of the +window and up at the star-gemmed sky--that was his Daisy's home. + +"I hope my little song has not cast a gloom over you, Rex?" she said, +holding out her hands to him as she arose to bid him good-night--those +small white hands upon one of which his engagement-ring glowed with a +thousand prismatic hues. + +"Why should it?" he asked, attempting to laugh lightly. "I admired it +perhaps more than any other I have ever heard you sing." + +Pluma well knew why. + +"It was suggested to me by a strange occurrence. Shall I relate it to +you, Rex?" + +He made some indistinct answer, little dreaming of how wofully the +little anecdote would affect him. + +"I do not like to bring up old, unpleasant subjects, Rex. But do you +remember what the only quarrel we ever had was about, or rather _who_ +it was about?" + +He looked at her in surprise; he had not the least idea of what she +alluded to. + +"Do you remember what a romantic interest you once took in our +overseer's niece--the one who eloped with Lester Stanwick from +boarding-school--the one whose death we afterward read of? Her name +was Daisy--Daisy Brooks." + +If she had suddenly plunged a dagger into his heart with her white +jeweled hands he could not have been more cruelly startled. He could +have cried aloud with the sharp pain of unutterable anguish that +memory brought him. His answer was a bow; he dared not look up lest +the haggard pain of his face should betray him. + +"Her uncle (he was no relation, I believe, but she called him that) +was more fond of her than words can express. I was driving along by an +unfrequented road to-day when I came across a strange, pathetic sight. +The poor old man was putting the last touches to a plain wooden cross +he had just erected under a magnolia-tree, which bore the simple +words: 'To the memory of Daisy Brooks, aged sixteen years.' Around the +cross the grass was thickly sown with daisies. + +"'She does not rest here,' the old man said, drawing his rough sleeve +across his tear-dimmed eyes; 'but the poor little girl loved this spot +best of any.'" + +Pluma wondered why Rex took her just then in his arms for the first +time and kissed her. He was thanking her in his heart; he could have +knelt to her for the kind way she had spoken of Daisy. + +A little later he was standing by the open window of his own room in +the moonlight. + +"My God!" he cried, burying his face in his hands, "this poor John +Brooks did what I, her husband, should have done; but it is not +too late now. I shall honor your memory, my darling; I shall have +a costly marble monument erected to your memory, bearing the +inscription: 'Sacred to the memory of Daisy, beloved wife of Rex Lyon, +aged sixteen years.' Not Daisy Brooks, but Daisy Lyon. Mother is dead, +what can secrecy avail now?" + +He would not tell Pluma until the last moment. Straightway he ordered +a magnificent monument from Baltimore--one of pure unblemished white, +with an angel with drooping wings overlooking the tall white pillar. + +When it arrived he meant to take Pluma there, and, reverently kneeling +down before her, tell her all the story of his sweet, sad love-dream +with his face pressed close against the cold, pulseless marble--tell +her of the love-dream which had left him but the ashes of dead hope. +He sealed the letter and placed it with the out-going morning mail. + +"Darling, how I wish I had not parted from you that night!" he +sighed. + +How bitterly he regretted he could not live that one brief hour of his +past life over again--how differently he would act! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +While Rex was penning his all-important letter in his room, Pluma was +walking restlessly to and fro in her boudoir, conning over in her mind +the events of the evening. + +Rex had asked her to be his wife, but she stood face to face with the +truth at last--he did not love her. It was not only a blow of the +keenest and cruelest kind to her affection, but it was the cruelest +blow her vanity could possibly have received. + +To think that she, the wealthy, petted heiress, who counted her +admirers by the score, should have tried so hard to win the love of +this one man and have failed; that her beauty, her grace, her wit, and +her talent had been lavished upon him, and lavished in vain. "Was that +simple girl, with her shy, timid, shrinking manner, more lovable than +I?" she asked herself, incredulously. + +She could not realize it--she, whose name was on the lips of men, who +praised her as the queen of beauty, and whom fair women envied as one +who had but to will to win. + +It seemed to her a cruel mockery of fate that she, who had everything +the world could give--beauty and fortune--should ask but this one +gift, and that it should be refused her--the love of the man who had +asked her to be his wife. + +Was it impossible that he should learn to love her? + +She told herself that she should take courage, that she would +persevere, that her great love must in time prevail. + +"I must never let him find me dull or unhappy," she thought. "I must +carefully hide all traces of pique or annoyance." + +She would do her best to entertain him, and make it the study of her +life to win his love. + +She watched the stars until they faded from the skies, then buried her +face in her pillow, falling into an uneasy slumber, through which a +beautiful, flower-like, girlish face floated, and a slight, delicate +form knelt at her feet holding her arms out imploringly, sobbing out: + +"Do not take him from me--he is my world--I love him!" + +And with a heart racked by terrible jealousy, Pluma turned uneasily on +her pillow and opened her eyes. The stars were still glimmering in the +moonlighted sky. + +"Is the face of Daisy Brooks ever to haunt me thus?" she cried out, +impatiently. "How was I to know she was to die?" she muttered, +excitedly. "I simply meant to have Stanwick abduct her from the +seminary that Rex might believe him her lover and turn to me for +sympathy. I will not think of it," she cried; "I am not one to flinch +from a course of action I have marked out for myself, no matter what +the consequences may be, if I only gain Rex's love." + +And Pluma, the bride soon to be, turned her flushed face again to the +wall to dream again of Daisy Brooks. + +She little dreamed Rex, too, was watching the stars, as wakeful as +she, thinking of the past. + +Then he prayed Heaven to help him, so that no unworthy thought should +enter his mind. After that he slept, and one of the most painful days +of his life was ended. + +The days at Whitestone Hall flew by on rapid wings in a round of +gayety. The Hall was crowded with young folks, who were to remain +until after the marriage. Dinner parties were followed by May-pole +dances out on the green lawns, and by charades and balls in the +evening. The old Hall had never echoed with such frolicsome mirth +before. Rex plunged into the excitement with strange zest. No one +guessed that beneath his winning, careless smile his heart was almost +breaking. + +One morning Pluma was standing alone on the vine-covered terrace, +waiting for Rex, who had gone out to try a beautiful spirited horse +that had just been added to the stables of Whitestone Hall. She +noticed he had taken the unfrequented road the magnolia-trees shaded. +That fact bore no significance, certainly; still there was a strong +feeling of jealousy in her heart as she remembered that little wooden +cross he would be obliged to pass. Would he stop there? She could not +tell. + +"How I love him--and how foolish I am!" she laughed, nervously. "I +have no rival, yet I am jealous of his very thoughts, lest they dwell +on any one else but myself. I do not see how it is," she said, +thoughtfully, to herself, "why people laugh at love, and think it +weakness or a girl's sentimental folly. Why, it is the strongest of +human passions!" + +She heard people speak of her approaching marriage as "a grand +match"--she heard him spoken of as a wealthy Southerner, and she +laughed a proud, happy, rippling laugh. She was marrying Rex for love; +she had given him the deepest, truest love of her heart. + +Around a bend in the terrace she heard approaching footsteps and the +rippling of girlish laughter. + +"I can not have five minutes to myself to think," she said to herself, +drawing hastily back behind the thick screen of leaves until they +should pass. She did not feel in the humor just then to listen to Miss +Raynor's chatter or pretty Grace Alden's gossip. + +"Of course every one has a right to their own opinion," Grace was +saying, with a toss of her pretty nut-brown curls, "and I, for one, do +not believe he cares for her one whit." + +"It is certainly very strange," responded Miss Raynor, thoughtfully. +"Every one can see she is certainly in love with Rex; but I am afraid +it is quite a one-sided affair." + +"Yes," said Grace, laughing shyly, "a _very_ one-sided affair. Why, +have you ever noticed them together--how Pluma watches his face and +seems to live on his smiles? And as for Rex, he always seems to be +looking over her head into the distance, as though he saw something +there far more interesting than the face of his bride-to-be. That +doesn't look much like love or a contented lover." + +"If you had seen him this morning you might well say he did not look +contented," replied Miss Raynor, mysteriously. "I was out for a +morning ramble, and, feeling a little tired, I sat down on a +moss-covered stone to rest. Hearing the approaching clatter of a +horse's hoofs, I looked up and saw Rex Lyon coming leisurely down the +road. I could not tell you what prompted me to do it, but I drew +quietly back behind the overhanging alder branches that skirted the +brook, admiring him all unseen." + +"Oh, dear!" cried Grace, merrily, "this is almost too good to keep. +Who would imagine dignified Miss Raynor peeping admiringly at +handsome Rex, screened by the shadows of the alders!" + +"Now don't be ridiculous, Grace, or I shall be tempted not to tell you +the most interesting part," returned Miss Raynor, flushing hotly. + +"Oh, that would be too cruel," cried Grace, who delighted on anything +bordering on mystery. "Do tell it." + +"Well," continued Miss Raynor, dropping her voice to a lower key, +"when he was quite opposite me, he suddenly stopped short and quickly +dismounted from his horse, and picked up from the roadside a handful +of wild flowers." + +"What in the world could he want with them?" cried Grace, incredulously. + +"Want with them!" echoed Miss Raynor. "Why, he pressed them to his +lips, murmuring passionate, loving words over them. For one brief +instant his face was turned toward me, and I saw there were tears +standing in his eyes, and there was a look on his face I shall never +forget to my dying day. There was such hopeless woe upon it--indeed +one might have almost supposed, by the expression of his face, he was +waiting for his death-sentence to be pronounced instead of a marriage +ceremony, which was to give him the queenly heiress of Whitestone Hall +for a bride." + +"Perhaps there is some hidden romance in the life of handsome Rex the +world does not know of," suggested Grace, sagely. + +"I hope not," replied Miss Raynor. "I would hate to be a rival of +Pluma Hurlhurst's. I have often thought, as I watched her with Rex, it +must be terrible to worship one person so madly. I have often thought +Pluma's a perilous love." + +"Do not speak so," cried Grace. "You horrify me. Whenever I see her +face I am afraid those words will be ringing in my ears--a perilous +love." + +Miss Raynor made some laughing rejoinder which Pluma, white and +trembling behind the ivy vines, did not catch, and still discussing +the affair, they moved on, leaving Pluma Hurlhurst standing alone, +face to face with the truth, which she had hoped against hope was +false. Rex, who was so soon to be her husband, was certainly not her +lover. + +Her keen judgment had told her long ago all this had come about +through his mother's influence. + +Every word those careless lips had uttered came back to her heart with +a cruel stab. + +"Even my guests are noticing his coldness," she cried, with a +hysterical little sob. "They are saying to each other, 'He does not +love me'--I, who have counted my triumphs by the scores. I have +revealed my love in every word, tone and glance, but I can not awaken +one sentiment in his proud, cold heart." + +When she remembered the words, "He pressed them to his lips, murmuring +passionate, loving words over them," she almost cried aloud in her +fierce, angry passion. She knew, just as well as though she had +witnessed him herself, that those wild flowers were daisies, and she +knew, too, why he had kissed them so passionately. She saw the sun +shining on the trees, the flower-beds were great squares and circles +of color, the fountains sparkled in the sunlight, and restless +butterflies flitted hither and thither. + +For Pluma Hurlhurst, after that hour, the sunshine never had the same +light, the flowers the same color, her face the same smile, or her +heart the same joyousness. + +Never did "good and evil" fight for a human heart as they struggled in +that hour in the heart of the beautiful, willful heiress. All the +fire, the passion, and recklessness of her nature were aroused. + +"I will make him love me or I will die!" she cried, vehemently. "The +love I long for shall be mine. I swear it, cost what it may!" + +She was almost terribly beautiful to behold, as that war of passion +raged within her. + +She saw a cloud of dust arising in the distance. She knew it was Rex +returning, but no bright flush rose to her cheek as she remembered +what Miss Raynor had said of the wild flowers he had so rapturously +caressed--he had given a few rank wild flowers the depths of a +passionate love which he had never shown to her, whom he had asked to +be his wife. + +She watched him as he approached nearer and nearer, so handsome, so +graceful, so winning, one of his white hands carelessly resting on the +spirited animal's proudly arched, glossy neck, and with the other +raising his hat from his brown curls in true courtly cavalier fashion +to her, as he saw her standing there, apparently awaiting him on the +rose-covered terrace. + +He looked so handsome and lovable Pluma might have forgotten her +grievance had she not at that moment espied, fastened to the lapel of +his coat, a cluster of golden-hearted daisies. + +That sight froze the light in her dark, passionate eyes and the +welcome that trembled on her scarlet lips. + +He leaped lightly from the saddle, and came quickly forward to meet +her, and then drew back with a start. + +"What is the matter, Pluma?" he asked, in wonder. + +"Nothing," she replied, keeping her eyes fastened as if fascinated on +the offending daisies he wore on his breast. + +"I left you an hour ago smiling and happy. I find you white and worn. +There are strange lights in your eyes like the slumbrous fire of a +volcano; even your voice seems to have lost its tenderness. What is +it, Pluma?" + +She raised her dark, proud face to his. There was a strange story +written on it, but he could not tell what it was. + +"It--it is nothing. The day is warm, and I am tired, that is all." + +"You are not like the same Pluma who kissed me when I was going away," +he persisted. "Since I left this house something has come between you +and me. What is it, Pluma?" + +She looked up to him with a proud gesture that was infinitely +charming. + +"Is anything likely to come between us?" she asked. + +"No; not that I know of," he answered, growing more and more puzzled. + +"Then why imagine it?" she asked. + +"Because you are so changed, Pluma," he said. "I shall never perhaps +know the cause of your strange manner toward me, but I shall always +feel sure it is something which concerns myself. You look at me as +though you were questioning me," he said. "I wish you would tell me +what is on your mind?" + +"I do not suppose it could make the least difference," she answered, +passionately. "Yes, I will tell you, what you must have been blind not +to notice long ago. Have you not noticed how every one watches us with +a peculiar smile on their lips as we come among them; and how their +voices sink to a whisper lest we should overhear what they say? What +is commented upon by my very guests, and the people all about us? +Listen, then, it is this: Rex Lyon does not love the woman he has +asked to be his wife. The frosts of Iceland could not be colder than +his manner toward her. They say, too, that I have given you the truest +and deepest love of my heart, and have received nothing in return. +Tell me that it is all false, my darling. You do care for me, do you +not, Rex? Tell me," she implored. + +"Good heavens!" cried Rex, almost speechless in consternation; "do +they dare say such things? I never thought my conduct could give rise +to one reproach, one unkind thought." + +"Tell me you do care for me, Rex," she cried. "I have been almost mad +with doubt." + +There was something in the lovely face, in the tender, pleading eyes, +and quivering, scarlet mouth, that looked as if it were made for +kisses--that Rex would have had to have been something more than +mortal man to have resisted her pleading with sighs and tears for his +love, and refuse it, especially as she had every reason to expect it, +as he had asked her to be his wife. There was such a look of +unutterable love on her face it fairly bewildered him. The passion in +her voice startled him. What was he to do with this impetuous girl? +Rex looked as if he felt exceedingly uncomfortable. + +He took her in his arms and kissed her mechanically; he knew that was +what she wanted and what she expected him to do. + +"This must be my answer, dear," he said, holding her in a close +embrace. + +In that brief instant she had torn the daisies from the lapel of his +coat with her white, jeweled fingers, tossed them to the earth, and +stamped her dainty feet upon them, wishing in the depths of her soul +she could crush out all remembrance from his heart of the young girl +for whose memory this handsome lover of hers wore these wild blossoms +on his breast. + +As Rex looked down into her face he missed them, and quickly unclasped +his arms from around her with a little cry. + +Stooping down he instantly recovered his crushed treasures and lifted +them reverently in his hand with a sigh. + +"I can not say that I admire your taste, Rex," she said, with a short, +hard laugh, that somehow grated harshly on her lover's ears. "The +conservatories are blooming with rare and odorous flowers, yet you +choose these obnoxious plants; they are no more or less than a species +of weeds. Never wear them again, Rex--I despise them--throw them away, +and I will gather you a rare bouquet of white hyacinths and starry +jasmine and golden-rod bells." + +The intense quiver in her voice pained him, and he saw her face wore +the pallor of death, and her eyes were gleaming like restless fire. + +"I will not wear them certainly if you dislike them, Pluma," he said, +gravely, "but I do not care to replace them by any other; daisies are +the sweetest flowers on earth for me." + +He did not fasten them on his coat again, but transferred them to his +breast-pocket. She bit her scarlet lips in impotent rage. + +In the very moment of her supreme triumph and happiness he had +unclasped his arms from about her to pick up the daisies she had +crushed with her tiny heel--those daisies which reminded him of that +other love that still reigned in his heart a barrier between them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +"I do think it is a perfect shame those horrid Glenn girls are to be +invited up here to Rex's wedding," cried little Birdie Lyon, hobbling +into the room where Mrs. Corliss sat, busily engaged in hemming some +new table-linen, and throwing herself down on a low hassock at her +feet, and laying down her crutch beside her--"it is perfectly awful." + +"Why," said Mrs. Corliss, smoothing the nut-brown curls back from the +child's flushed face, "I should think you would be very pleased. They +were your neighbors when you were down in Florida, were they not?" + +"Yes," replied the little girl, frowning, "but I don't like them one +bit. Bess and Gertie--that's the two eldest ones, make me think of +those stiff pictures in the gay trailing dresses in the magazines. Eve +is nice, but she's a Tom-boy." + +"A wh--at!" cried Mrs. Corliss. + +"She's a Tom-boy, mamma always said; she romps, and has no manners." + +"They will be your neighbors when you go South again--so I suppose +your brother thought of that when he invited them." + +"He never dreamed of it," cried Birdie; "it was Miss Pluma's doings." + +"Hush, child, don't talk so loud," entreated the old housekeeper; "she +might hear you." + +"I don't care," cried Birdie. "I don't like her anyhow, and she knows +it. When Rex is around she is as sweet as honey to me, and calls me +'pretty little dear,' but when Rex isn't around she scarcely notices +me, and I _hate_ her--yes, I do." + +Birdie clinched her little hands together venomously, crying out the +words in a shrill scream. + +"Birdie," cried Mrs. Corliss, "you _must not_ say such hard, cruel +things. I have heard you say, over and over again, you liked Mr. +Hurlhurst, and you must remember Pluma is his daughter, and she is to +be your brother's wife. You must learn to speak and think kindly of +her." + +"I never shall like her," cried Birdie, defiantly, "and I am sure Mr. +Hurlhurst don't." + +"Birdie!" ejaculated the good lady in a fright, dropping her scissors +and spools in consternation; "let me warn you not to talk so again; +if Miss Pluma was to once hear you, you would have a sorry enough time +of it all your after life. What put it into your head Mr. Hurlhurst +did not like his own daughter?" + +"Oh, lots of things," answered Birdie. "When I tell him how pretty +every one says she is, he groans, and says strange things about fatal +beauty, which marred all his young life, and ever so many things I +can't understand, and his face grows so hard and so stern I am almost +afraid of him." + +"He is thinking of Pluma's mother," thought Mrs. Corliss--but she made +no answer. + +"He likes to talk to me," pursued the child, rolling the empty spools +to and fro with her crutch, "for he pities me because I am lame." + +"Bless your dear little heart," said Mrs. Corliss, softly stroking the +little girl's curls; "it is seldom poor old master takes to any one as +he has to you." + +"Do I look anything like the little child that died?" questioned +Birdie. + +A low, gasping cry broke from Mrs. Corliss's lips, and her face grew +ashen white. She tried to speak, but the words died away in her +throat. + +"He talks to me a great deal about her," continued Birdie, "and he +weeps such bitter tears, and has such strange dreams about her. Why, +only last night he dreamed a beautiful, golden-haired young girl came +to him, holding out her arms, and crying softly: 'Look at me, father; +I am your child. I was never laid to rest beneath the violets, in my +young mother's tomb. Father, I am in sore distress--come to me, +father, or I shall die!' Of course it was only a dream, but it makes +poor Mr. Hurlhurst cry so; and what do you think he said?" + +The child did not notice the terrible agony on the old housekeeper's +face, or that no answer was vouchsafed her. + +"'My dreams haunt me night and day,' he cried. 'To still this wild, +fierce throbbing of my heart I must have that grave opened, and gaze +once more upon all that remains of my loved and long-lost bride, sweet +Evalia and her little child.' He was--" + +Birdie never finished her sentence. + +A terrible cry broke from the housekeeper's livid lips. + +"My God!" she cried, hoarsely, "after nearly seventeen years the sin +of my silence is about to find me out at last." + +"What is the matter, Mrs. Corliss? Are you ill?" cried the startled +child. + +A low, despairing sob answered her, as Mrs. Corliss arose from her +seat, took a step or two forward, then fell headlong to the floor in a +deep and death-like swoon. + +Almost any other child would have been terrified, and alarmed the +household. + +Birdie was not like other children. She saw a pitcher of ice-water on +an adjacent table, which she immediately proceeded to sprinkle on the +still, white, wrinkled face; but all her efforts failed to bring the +fleeting breath back to the cold, pallid lips. + +At last the child became fairly frightened. + +"I must go and find Rex or Mr. Hurlhurst," she cried, grasping her +crutch, and limping hurriedly out of the room. + +The door leading to Basil Hurlhurst's apartments stood open--the +master of Whitestone Hall sat in his easy-chair, in morning-gown and +slippers, deeply immersed in the columns of his account-books. + +"Oh, Mr. Hurlhurst," cried Birdie, her little, white, scared face +peering in at the door, "won't you please come quick? Mrs. Corliss, +the housekeeper, has fainted ever so long ago, and I can't bring her +to!" + +Basil Hurlhurst hurriedly arose and followed the now thoroughly +frightened child quickly to the room where the old housekeeper lay, +her hands pressed close to her heart, the look of frozen horror +deepening on her face. + +Quickly summoning the servants, they raised her from the floor. It was +something more than a mere fainting fit. The poor old lady had fallen +face downward on the floor, and upon the sharp point of the scissors +she had been using, which had entered her body in close proximity to +her heart. The wound was certainly a dangerous one. The surgeon, who +was quickly summoned, shook his head dubiously. + +"The wound is of the most serious nature," he said. "She can not +possibly recover." + +"I regret this sad affair more than I can find words to express," said +Basil Hurlhurst, gravely. "Mrs. Corliss's whole life almost has been +spent at Whitestone Hall. You tell me, doctor, there is no hope. I can +scarcely realize it." + +Every care and attention was shown her; but it was long hours before +Mrs. Corliss showed signs of returning consciousness, and with her +first breath she begged that Basil Hurlhurst might be sent for at +once. + +He could not understand why she shrunk from him, refusing his +proffered hand. + +"Tell them all to leave the room," she whispered. "No one must know +what I have to say to you." + +Wondering a little what she had to say to him, he humored her wishes, +sending them all from the room. + +"Now, Mrs. Corliss," he said, kindly drawing his chair up close by the +bedside, "what is it? You can speak out without reserve; we are all +alone." + +"Is it true that I can not live?" she asked, eagerly scanning his +face. "Tell me truthfully, master, is the wound a fatal one?" + +"Yes," he said, sympathetically, "I--I--am afraid it is." + +He saw she was making a violent effort to control her emotions. "Do +not speak," he said, gently; "it distresses you. You need perfect rest +and quiet." + +"I shall never rest again until I make atonement for my sin," she +cried, feebly. "Oh, master, you have ever been good and kind to me, +but I have sinned against you beyond all hope of pardon. When you hear +what I have to say you will curse me. Oh, how can I tell it! Yet I can +not sleep in my grave with this burden on my soul." + +He certainly thought she was delirious, this poor, patient, toil-worn +soul, speaking so incoherently of sin; she, so tender-hearted--she +could not even have hurt a sparrow. + +"I can promise you my full pardon, Mrs. Corliss," he said, soothingly; +"no matter on what grounds the grievance may be." + +For a moment she looked at him incredulously. + +"You do not know what you say. You do not understand," she muttered, +fixing her fast-dimming eyes strangely upon him. + +"Do not give yourself any uneasiness upon that score, Mrs. Corliss," +he said, gently; "try to think of something else. Is there anything +you would like to have done for you?" + +"Yes," she replied, in a voice so hoarse and changed he could scarcely +recognize it was her who had spoken; "when I tell you all, promise me +you will not curse me; for I have sinned against you so bitterly that +you will cry out to Heaven asking why I did not die long years ago, +that the terrible secret I have kept so long might have been wrung +from my lips." + +"Surely her ravings were taking a strange freak," he thought to +himself; "yet he would be patient with her and humor her strange +fancy." + +The quiet, gentle expression did not leave his face, and she took +courage. + +"Master," she said, clasping her hands nervously together, "would it +pain you to speak of the sweet, golden-haired young girl-bride who +died on that terrible stormy night nearly seventeen years ago?" + +She saw his care-worn face grow white, and the lines of pain deepen +around his mouth. + +"That is the most painful of all subjects to me," he said, slowly. +"You know how I have suffered since that terrible night," he said +shudderingly. "The double loss of my sweet young wife and her little +babe has nearly driven me mad. I am a changed man, the weight of the +cross I have had to bear has crushed me. I live on, but my heart is +buried in the grave of my sweet, golden-haired Evalia and her little +child. I repeat, it is a painful subject, still I will listen to what +you have to say. I believe I owe my life to your careful nursing, when +I was stricken with the brain fever that awful time." + +"It would have been better if I had let you die then, rather than live +to inflict the blow which my words will give you. Oh, master!" she +implored, "I did not know then what I did was a sin. I feared to tell +you lest the shock might cost you your life. As time wore on, I grew +so deadly frightened I dared not undo the mischief my silence had +wrought. Remember, master, when you looked upon me in your bitterest, +fiercest moments of agony, what I did was for _your_ sake; to save +your bleeding heart one more pang. I have been a good and faithful +woman all my life, faithful to your interests." + +"You have indeed," he responded, greatly puzzled as to what she could +possibly mean. + +She tried to raise herself on her elbows, but her strength failed her, +and she sunk back exhausted on the pillow. + +"Listen, Basil Hurlhurst," she said, fixing her strangely bright eyes +upon his noble, care-worn face; "this is the secret I have carried in +this bosom for nearly seventeen years: 'Your golden-haired young wife +died on that terrible stormy night you brought her to Whitestone +Hall;' but listen, Basil, '_the child did not!_' It was stolen from +our midst on the night the fair young mother died." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +"My God!" cried Basil Hurlhurst, starting to his feet, pale as death, +his eyes fairly burning, and the veins standing out on his forehead +like cords, "you do not know what you say, woman! My little +child--Evalia's child and mine--not dead, but stolen on the night its +mother died! My God! it can not be; surely you are mad!" he shrieked. + +"It is true, master," she moaned, "true as Heaven." + +"You knew my child, for whom I grieved for seventeen long years, was +stolen--not dead--and dared to keep the knowledge from me?" he cried, +passionately, beside himself with rage, agony and fear. "Tell me +quickly, then, where I shall find my child!" he cried, breathlessly. + +"I do not know, master," she moaned. + +For a few moments Basil Hurlhurst strode up and down the room like a +man bereft of reason. + +"You will not curse me," wailed the tremulous voice from the bed; "I +have your promise." + +"I can not understand how Heaven could let your lips remain silenced +all these long, agonizing years, if your story be true. Why, yourself +told me my wife and child had both died on that never-to-be-forgotten +night, and were buried in one grave. How could you dare steep your +lips with a lie so foul and black? Heaven could have struck you dead +while the false words were yet warm on your lips!" + +"I dared not tell you, master," moaned the feeble voice, "lest the +shock would kill you; then, after you recovered, I grew afraid of the +secret I had dared to keep, and dared not tell you." + +"And yet you knew that somewhere in this cruel world my little child +was living--my tender, little fair-haired child--while I, her father, +was wearing my life out with the grief of that terrible double loss. +Oh, woman, woman, may God forgive you, for I never can, if your words +be true." + +"I feared such anger as this; that is why I dared not tell you," she +whispered, faintly. "I appeal to your respect for me in the past to +hear me, to your promise of forgiveness to shield me, to your love for +the little child to listen calmly while I have strength to speak." + +He saw she was right. His head seemed on fire, and his heart seemed +bursting with the acute intensity of his great excitement. + +He must listen while she had strength to tell him of his child. + +"Go on--go on!" he cried, hoarsely, burying his face in the +bed-clothes; "tell me of my child!" + +"You remember the terrible storm, master, how the tree moaned, and +without against the western wing--where your beautiful young wife lay +dead, with the pretty, smiling, blue-eyed babe upon her breast?" + +"Yes, yes--go on--you are driving me mad!" he groaned. + +"You remember how you fell down senseless by her bedside when we told +you the terrible news--the young child-bride was dead?" + +She knew, by the quivering of his form, he heard her. + +"As they carried you from the room, master, I thought I saw a woman's +form gliding stealthily on before, through the dark corridors. A blaze +of lightning illumined the hall for one brief instant, and I can swear +I saw a woman's face--a white, mocking, gloriously beautiful +face--strangely like the face of your first wife, master, Pluma's +mother. I knew it could not be her, for she was lying beneath the +sea-waves. It was not a good omen, and I felt sorely afraid and +greatly troubled. When I returned to the room from which they had +carried you--there lay your fair young wife with a smile on her +lips--but the tiny babe that had slumbered on her breast was gone." + +"Oh, God! if you had only told me this years ago," cried the unhappy +father. "Have you any idea who could have taken the child? It could +not have been for gain, or I should have heard of it long ago. I did +not know I had an enemy in the wide world. You say you saw a woman's +face?" he asked, thoughtfully. + +"It was the ghost of your first wife," asserted the old housekeeper, +astutely. "I never saw her face but once; but there was something +about it one could not easily forget." + +Basil Hurlhurst was not a superstitious man, yet he felt a strange, +unaccountable dread stealing over him at the bare mention of such a +thing. It was more than he could endure to hear the name of the wife +he had loved, and the wife who slept beneath the wild sea-waves, +coupled in one breath--the fair young wife he had idolized, and the +dark, sparkling face of the wife who had brought upon him such +wretched folly in his youth! + +"Have you not some clew to give me?" he cried out in agony--"some way +by which I can trace her and learn her fate?" + +She shook her head. + +"This is unbearable!" he cried, pacing up and down the room like one +who had received an unexpected death-blow. "I am bewildered! Merciful +Heaven! which way shall I turn? This accounts for my restlessness all +these years, when I thought of my child--my restless longing and +fanciful dreams! I thought her quietly sleeping on Evalia's breast. +God only knows what my tender little darling has suffered, or in what +part of the world she lives, or if she lives at all!" + +It had been just one hour since Basil Hurlhurst had entered that room, +a placid-faced, gray-haired man. When he left it his hair was white as +snow from the terrible ordeal through which he had just passed. + +He scarcely dared hope that he should yet find her--where or how he +should find her, if ever. + +In the corridor he passed groups of maidens, but he neither saw nor +heard them. He was thinking of the child that had been stolen from him +in her infancy--the sweet little babe with the large blue eyes and +shining rings of golden hair. + +He saw Pluma and Rex greeting some new arrivals out on the flower-bordered +terrace, but he did not stop until he had reached his own apartments. + +He did not send for Pluma, to divulge the wonderful discovery he had +made. There was little sympathy or confidence between the father and +daughter. + +"I can never sleep again until I have some clew to my child!" he +cried, frantically wringing his hands. + +Hastily he touched the bell-rope. + +"Mason," he said to the servant who answered the summons, "pack my +valise at once. I am going to take the first train to Baltimore. You +have no time to lose." + +He did not hear the man's ejaculation of surprise as his eyes fell on +the face of the master who stood before him with hair white as +snow--so utterly changed in one short hour. + +"You couldn't possibly make the next train, sir; it leaves in a few +moments." + +"I tell you you _must_ make it!" cried Basil Hurlhurst. "Go and do as +I bid you at once! Don't stand there staring at me; you are losing +golden moments. Fly at once, I tell you!" + +Poor old Mason was literally astounded. What had come over his kind, +courteous master? + +"I have nothing that could aid them in the search," he said to +himself, pacing restlessly up and down the room. "Ah! stay!--there is +Evalia's portrait! The little one must look like her mother if she is +living yet!" + +He went to his writing-desk and drew from a private drawer a little +package tied with a faded ribbon, which he carefully untied with +trembling fingers. + +It was a portrait on ivory of a beautiful, girlish, dimpled face, with +shy, upraised blue eyes, a smiling rosebud mouth, soft pink cheeks, +and a wealth of rippling, sunny-golden hair. + +"She must look like this," he whispered. "God grant that I may find +her!" + +"Mr. Rex Lyon says, please may he see you a few moments, sir," said +Mason, popping his black head in at the door. + +"No; I do not wish to see any one, and I will not see any one. Have +you that satchel packed, I say?" + +"Yes, sir; it will be ready directly, sir," said the man, obediently. + +"Don't come to me with any more messages--lock everybody out. Do you +hear me, Mason? I _will_ be obeyed!" + +"Yes, sir, I hear. No one shall disturb you." + +Again Basil Hurlhurst turned to the portrait, paying little attention +to what was transpiring around him. "I shall put it at once in the +hands of the cleverest detectives," he mused; "surely they will be +able to find some trace of my lost darling." + +Seventeen years! Ah, what might have happened her in that time? The +master of Whitestone Hall always kept a file of the Baltimore papers; +he rapidly ran his eye down the different columns. + +"Ah, here is what I want," he exclaimed, stopping short. "Messrs. +Tudor, Peck & Co., Experienced Detectives, ---- Street, Baltimore. +They are noted for their skill. I will give the case into their hands. +If they restore my darling child alive and well into my hands I will +make them wealthy men--if she is dead, the blow will surely kill me." + +He heard voices debating in the corridor without. + +"Did you tell him I wished particularly to see him?" asked Rex, rather +discomfited at the refusal. + +"Yes, sir," said Mason, dubiously. + +"Miss Pluma, his daughter, wishes me to speak with him on a very +important matter. I am surprised that he so persistently refuses to +see me," said Rex, proudly, wondering if Pluma's father had heard that +gossip--among the guests--that he did not love his daughter. "I do not +know that I have offended the old gentleman in any way," he told +himself. "If it comes to that," he thought, "I can do no more than +confess the truth to him--the whole truth about poor little Daisy--no +matter what the consequences may be." + +Fate was playing at cross-purposes with handsome Rex, but no subtle +warning came to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +The preparations for the wedding went steadily on. It was to be a +magnificent affair. Inside and outside of Whitestone Hall fairly +glowed with brilliancy and bloom. + +Rex's deportment toward his promised bride was exemplary; he did his +best to show her every possible attention and kindness in lieu of the +love which should have been hers. + +There seemed to be no cloud in Pluma Hurlhurst's heaven. + +She had no warning of the relentless storm-cloud that was gathering +above her head and was so soon to burst upon her in all its fury. + +She walked among her guests with a joyous, happy smile and the air of +a queen. Why should she not? On the morrow she would gain the prize +she coveted most on earth--she would be Rex's wife. + +Her father had gone unexpectedly to Baltimore, and the good old +housekeeper had been laid to rest, but in the excitement and bustle +attending the great coming event these two incidents created little +comment. + +Mirth and gayety reigned supreme, and the grim old halls resounded +with laughter and song and gay young voices from morning until night. + +Pluma, the spoiled, petted, willful heiress, was fond of excitement +and gay throngs. + +"Our marriage must be an event worthy of remembrance, Rex," she said, +as they walked together through the grounds the morning before the +wedding. "We must have something new and novel. I am tired of +brilliant parlors and gas-light. I propose we shall have a beautiful +platform built, covered with moss and roses, beneath the blossoming +trees, with the birds singing in their boughs, upon which we shall be +united. What do you think of my idea--is it not a pretty one?" + +"Your ideas are always poetical and fanciful," said Rex, glancing down +into the beautiful brilliant face beside him. "My thoughts are so dull +and prosy compared with yours, are you not afraid you will have a very +monotonous life-companion?" + +"I am going to try my best to win you from that cold reserve. There +must not be one shadow between us; do you know, Rex, I have been +thinking, if anything should ever happen to take your love from me I +should surely die. I--I am jealous of your very thoughts. I know I +ought not to admit it, but I can not help it." + +Rex flushed nervously; it was really embarrassing to him, the tender +way in which she looked up to him--her black eyelids coyly drooping +over her dark, slumbrous eyes, inviting a caress. He was certainly +wooed against his will, but there was no help for it; he was forced to +take up his part and act it out gracefully. + +"You need not be jealous of my thoughts, Pluma," he replied, "for they +were all of you." + +"I wonder if they were pleasant thoughts?" she asked, toying with the +crimson flower-bells she holds in her white hands. "I have heard you +sigh so much of late. Are you quite happy, Rex?" she inquired, +hesitatingly. + +The abruptness of the question staggered him: he recovered his +composure instantly, however. + +"How can you ask me such a question, Pluma?" he asked, evasively; "any +man ought to be proud of winning so peerless a treasure as you are. I +shall be envied by scores of disappointed lovers, who have worshiped +at your shrine. I am not as demonstrative as some might be under +similar circumstances, but my appreciation is none the less keen." + +She noticed he carefully avoided the word--love. + +In after years Rex liked to remember that, yielding to a kindly +impulse, he bent down and kissed her forehead. + +It was the first time he had caressed her voluntarily; it was not love +which prompted the action--only kindness. + +"Perhaps you will love me some day with your whole heart, Rex?" she +asked. + +"You seem quite sure that I do not do that now?" he remarked. + +"Yes," she said, clasping his arm more closely, "I often fear you do +not, but as time passes you will give me all your affection. Love must +win love." + +Other young girls could not have made such an open declaration without +rosy blushes suffusing their cheeks; they would have been frightened +at their free-spoken words, even though the morrow _was_ their +wedding-day. + +She stood before him in her tall, slim loveliness, as fair a picture +as any man's eyes could rest on. She wore a most becoming dress, and a +spring blossom was in her hair. Almost any other man's heart would +have warmed toward her as she raised her dark eyes to his and the +white fingers trembled on his arm. + +Rex was young, impulsive, and mortal; tender words from such lovely +lips would have intoxicated any man. Yet from that faithful heart of +his the words did not take one thought that belonged to Daisy; he did +his utmost to forget that sunny, golden memory. + +To Pluma, handsome, courtly Rex was an enigma. In her own mind she +liked him all the better because he had not fallen down and worshiped +her at once. Most men did that. + +For several moments they walked along in utter silence--until they had +reached the brink of the dark pool, which lay quite at the further end +of the inclosure. + +Pluma gave a little shuddering scream: + +"I did not mean to bring you here," she cried. "I always avoid this +path; the waters of the pool have always had a great dread for me." + +"It should be filled up," said Rex, "or fenced around; it is certainly +a dangerous locality." + +"It can not be filled up," she returned, laughingly; "it is said to be +bottomless. I do not like to think of it; come away, Rex." + +The magnificent bridal costume, ordered expressly from Paris, had +arrived--perfect even to the last detail. The bride-maids' costumes +were all ready; and to everything in and about the Hall the last +finishing touches had been given. + +All the young girls hovered constantly around Pluma, in girl-fashion +admiring the costume, the veil, the wreath, and above all the +radiantly beautiful girl who was to wear them. Even the Glenn girls +and Grace Alden were forced to admit the willful young heiress would +make the most peerless bride they had ever beheld. + +Little Birdie alone held aloof, much to Rex's amusement and Pluma's +intense mortification. + +"Little children often take such strange freaks," she would say to +Rex, sweetly. "I really believe your little sister intends never to +like me; I can not win one smile from her." + +"She is not like other children," he replied, with a strange twinkle +in his eye. "She forms likes and dislikes to people from simply +hearing their name. Of course I agree with you it is not right to do +so, but Birdie has been humored more or less all her life. I think she +will grow to love you in time." + +Pluma's lips quivered like the lips of a grieving child. + +"I shall try so hard to make her love me, because she is your sister, +Rex." + +He clasped the little jeweled hands that lay so confidingly within his +own still closer, saying he knew she could not help but succeed. + +The whole country-side was ringing with the coming marriage. No one +could be more popular than handsome Rex Lyon, no one admired more than +the young heiress of Whitestone Hall. The county papers were in +ecstasies; they discussed the magnificent preparations at the Hall, +the number of bride-maids, the superb wedding-presents, the +arrangements for the marriage, and the ball to be given in the +evening. + +The minister from Baltimore who was to perform the ceremony was +expected to arrive that day. That all preparations might be completed +for the coming morrow, Rex had gone down to meet the train, and Pluma +strolled into the conservatory, to be alone for a few moments with +her own happy thoughts. + +Out on the green lawns happy maidens were tripping here and there, +their gay laughter floating up to her where she stood. + +Every one seemed to be making the most of the happy occasion. +Lawn-tennis parties here and croquet-parties there, and lovers +strolling under the blossoming trees or reclining on the rustic +benches--it was indeed a happy scene. + +Pluma leaned her dark head against the fragrant roses. The breeze, the +perfume of the flowers, all told one story to the impassioned +girl--the story of her triumph and her mad, reckless love. + +She gathered a spray of the fairest flowers, and fastened them in the +bodice of her dress. + +"To-morrow I shall have won the one great prize I covet," she +murmured, half aloud. "After to-morrow I can defy Lester Stanwick to +bring one charge against me. I shall be Rex's wife--it will avail him +nothing." + +"Speaking of angels, you often hear 'the rustle of their wings.' I +believe there is an old adage of that sort, or something similar," +said a deep voice beside her, and turning around with a low cry she +saw Lester Stanwick himself standing before her. + +For one moment her lips opened as though to utter a piercing cry, but +even the very breath seemed to die upon them, they were so fixed and +still. + +The flowers she held in her hand fell into the fountain against which +she leaned, but she did not heed them. + +Like one fascinated, her eyes met the gaze of the bold, flashing dark +ones bent so steadily upon her. + +"You thought you would escape me," he said. "How foolish and blind you +are, my clever plotter. Did you think I did not see through your +clever maneuverings? There shall be a wedding to-morrow, but you shall +marry me, instead of handsome, debonair Rex. You can not fly from your +fate." + +She set her lips firmly together. She had made a valiant struggle. She +would defy him to the bitter end. She was no coward, this beautiful, +imperious girl. She would die hard. Alas! she had been too sanguine, +hoping Lester Stanwick would not return before the ceremony was +performed. + +The last hope died out of that proud, passionate heart--as well hope +to divert a tiger from its helpless prey as expect Lester Stanwick to +relinquish any plans he had once formed. + +"I have fought my fight," she said to herself, "and have failed on the +very threshold of victory, still, I know how to bear defeat. What do +you propose to do?" she said, huskily. "If there is any way I can buy +your silence, name your price, keeping back the truth will avail me +little now. I love Rex, and no power on earth shall prevent me from +becoming his wife." + +Lester Stanwick smiled superciliously--drawing from his pocket a +package of letters. + +"Money could not purchase these charming _billets-doux_ from me," he +said. "This will be charming reading matter for the Honorable Rex +Lyon, and the general public to discuss." + +She raised her flashing eyes unflinchingly to his face, but no word +issued from her white lips. + +"A splendid morsel for the gossips to whisper over. The very refined +and exclusive heiress of Whitestone Hall connives to remove an +innocent rival from her path, by providing money for her to be sent +off secretly to boarding-school, from which she is to be abducted and +confined in a mad-house. Your numerous letters give full instructions; +it would be useless to deny these accusations. I hold proof +positive." + +"That would not screen you," she said, scornfully. + +"I did not carry out your plans. No matter what the intentions were, +the points in the case are what actually happened. I can swear I +refused to comply with your nefarious wishes, even though you promised +me your hand and fortune if I succeeded," he answered, mockingly. + +"Will not money purchase your silence?" she said, with a deep-drawn +breath. "I do not plead with you for mercy or compassion," she said, +haughtily. + +Lester Stanwick laughed a mocking laugh. + +"Do not mistake me, Miss Pluma," he said, making no attempt at +love-making; "I prefer to wrest you from Rex Lyon. I have contemplated +with intense satisfaction the blow to his pride. It will be a glorious +revenge, also giving me a charming bride, and last, but not least, the +possession at some future day of Whitestone Hall and the Hurlhurst +Plantations. A pleasing picture, is it not, my dear?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Pluma Hurlhurst never quailed beneath the cold, mocking glance bent +upon her. + +There was no hope for her; disgrace and ruin stared her in the face; +she would defy even Fate itself to the bitter end with a heroism +worthy of a better cause. In that hour and that mood she was capable +of anything. + +She leaned against a tall palm-tree, looking at him with a strange +expression on her face, as she made answer, slowly: + +"You may depend upon it, I shall never marry you, Lester Stanwick. If +I do not marry Rex I shall go unmarried to the grave. Ah, no!" she +cried desperately; "Heaven will have more mercy, more pity than to +take him from me." + +"What mercy or pity did you feel in thrusting poor little Daisy Brooks +from his path?" asked Stanwick, sarcastically. "Your love has led you +through dangerous paths. I should call it certainly a most perilous +love." + +She recoiled from him with a low cry, those words again still ringing +in her ears, "A perilous love." + +She laughed with a laugh that made even Stanwick's blood run cold--a +horrible laugh. + +"I do not grieve that she is dead," she said. "You ought to understand +by this time I shall allow nothing to come between Rex and me." + +"You forget the fine notions of honor your handsome lover entertains; +it may not have occurred to you that he might object at the eleventh +hour." + +"He will not," she cried, fiercely, her bosom rising and falling +convulsively under its covering of filmy lace and the diamond brooch +which clasped it. "You do not know the indomitable will of a desperate +woman," she gasped. "I will see him myself and confess all to him, if +you attempt to reveal the contents of those letters. He will marry me +and take me abroad at once. If I have Rex's love, what matters it what +the whole world knows or says?" + +She spoke rapidly, vehemently, with flushed face and glowing eyes; and +even in her terrible anger Stanwick could not help but notice how +gloriously beautiful she was in her tragic emotion. + +"I have asked you to choose between us," he said, calmly, "and you +have chosen Rex regardless of all the promises of the past. The +consequences rest upon your own head." + +"So be it," she answered, haughtily. + +With a low bow Stanwick turned and left her. + +"_Au revoir_, my dear Pluma," he said, turning again toward her on the +threshold. "Not farewell--I shall not give up hope of winning the +heiress of Whitestone Hall." + +For several moments she stood quite still among the dark-green shrubs, +and no sound told of the deadly strife and despair. Would he see Rex +and divulge the crime she had planned? Ah! who would believe she, the +proud, petted heiress had plotted so cruelly against the life of an +innocent young girl because she found favor in the eyes of the lover +she had sworn to win? Ah! who could believe she had planned to confine +that sweet young life within the walls of a mad-house until death +should release her? + +What if the plan had failed? The intention still remained the same. +She was thankful, after all, the young girl was dead. + +"I could never endure the thought of Rex's intense anger if he once +imagined the truth; he would never forgive duplicity," she cried, +wildly. + +The proud, beautiful girl, radiant with love and happiness a short +time since, with a great cry flung herself down among the ferns, the +sunlight gleaming on the jewels, the sumptuous morning dress, the +crushed roses, and the white, despairing face. + +Any one who saw Pluma Hurlhurst when she entered the drawing-room +among her merry-hearted guests, would have said that she had never +shed a tear or known a sigh. Could that be the same creature upon +whose prostrate figure and raining tears the sunshine had so lately +fallen? No one could have told that the brightness, the smiles, and +the gay words were all forced. No one could have guessed that beneath +the brilliant manner there was a torrent of dark, angry passions and +an agony of fear. + +It was pitiful to see how her eyes wandered toward the door. Hour +after hour passed, and still Rex had not returned. + +The hum of girlish voices around her almost made her brain reel. Grace +Alden and Miss Raynor were singing a duet at the piano. The song they +were singing fell like a death-knell upon her ears; it was "'He Cometh +Not,' She Said." + +Eve Glenn, with Birdie upon her lap, sat on an adjoining sofa flirting +desperately with the two or three devoted beaus; every one was +discussing the prospect of the coming morrow. + +Her father had returned from Baltimore some time since. She was too +much engrossed with her thoughts of Rex to notice the great change in +him--the strange light in his eyes, or the wistful, expectant +expression of his face, as he kissed her more fondly than he had ever +done in his life before. + +She gave appropriate answers to her guests grouped around her, but +their voices seemed afar off. Her heart and her thoughts were with +Rex. Why had he not returned? What was detaining him? Suppose anything +should happen--it would kill her now--yet nothing could go wrong on +the eve of her wedding-day. She would not believe it. Stanwick would +not dare go to Rex with such a story--he would write it--and all +those things took time. With care and caution and constant watching +she would prevent Rex from receiving any communications whatever until +after the ceremony; then she could breathe freely, for the battle so +bravely fought would be won. + +"If to-morrow is as bright as to-day, Pluma will have a glorious +wedding-day," said Bessie Glenn, smiling up into the face of a +handsome young fellow who was fastening a rosebud she had just given +him in the lapel of his coat with one hand, and with the other tightly +clasping the white fingers that had held the rose. + +He did not notice that Pluma stood in the curtained recesses of an +adjoining window as he answered, carelessly enough: + +"Of course, I hope it will be a fine, sunshiny day, but the +indications of the weather don't look exactly that way, if I am any +judge." + +"Why, you don't think it is going to rain, do you? Why, it will spoil +the rose-bower she is to be married in and all the beautiful +decoration. Oh, please don't predict anything so awfully horrible; you +make me feel nervous; besides, you know what everybody says about +weddings on which the rain falls." + +"Would you be afraid to experiment on the idea?" asked the impulsive +young fellow, who always acted on the spur of the moment. "If +to-morrow were a rainy day, and I should say to you, 'Bess, will you +marry me to-day or never?' what would your answer be?" + +"I should say, just now, I do not like 'ifs and ands.' Supposing a +case, and standing face to face with it, are two different things. I +like people who say what they mean, and mean what they say." + +Pluma saw the dazzling light flame into the bashful young lover's eyes +as he bent his head lower over the blushing girl who had shown him the +right way to capture a hesitating heart. + +"_That_ is love," sighed Pluma. "Ah, if Rex would only look at me like +that I would think this earth a heaven." She looked up at the bright, +dazzling clouds overhead; then she remembered the words she had +heard--"It looked like rain on the morrow." + +Could those white, fleecy clouds darken on the morrow that was to give +her the only treasure she had ever coveted in her life? + +She was not superstitious. Even if it did rain, surely a few +rain-drops could not make or mar the happiness of a lifetime. She +would not believe it. + +"Courage until to-morrow," she said, "and my triumph will be complete. +I will have won Rex." The little ormolu clock on the mantel chimed the +hour of five. "Heavens!" she cried to herself, "Rex has been gone over +two hours. I feel my heart must be bursting." + +No one noticed Pluma's anxiety. One moment hushed and laughing, the +queen of mirth and revelry, then pale and silent, with shadowed eyes, +furtively glancing down the broad, pebbled path that led to the +entrance gate. + +Yet, despite her bravery, Pluma's face and lips turned white when she +heard the confusion of her lover's arrival. + +Perhaps Pluma had never suffered more suspense in all her life than +was crowded into those few moments. + +Had he seen Lester Stanwick? Had he come to denounce her for her +treachery, in his proud, clear voice, and declare the marriage broken +off? + +She dared not step forward to greet him, lest the piercing glance of +his eyes would cause her to fall fainting at his feet. + +"A guilty conscience needs no accuser." Most truly the words were +exemplified in her case. Yet not one pang of remorse swept across her +proud heart when she thought of the young girl whose life she had so +skillfully blighted. + +What was the love of Daisy Brooks, an unsophisticated child of nature, +only the overseer's niece, compared to her own mighty, absorbing +passion? + +The proud, haughty heiress could not understand how Rex, polished, +courteous and refined, could have stooped to such a reckless folly. He +would thank her in years to come for sparing him from such a fate. +These were the thoughts she sought to console herself with. + +She stood near the door when he entered, but he did not see her; a +death-like pallor swept over her face, her dark eyes had a wild, +perplexing look. + +She was waiting in terrible suspense for Rex to call upon her name; +ask where she was, or speak some word in which she could read her +sentence of happiness or despair in the tone of his voice. + +She could not even catch the expression of his face; it was turned +from her. She watched him so eagerly she hardly dared draw her +breath. + +Rex walked quickly through the room, stopping to chat with this one or +that one a moment; still, his face was not turned for a single instant +toward the spot where she stood. + +Was he looking for her? She could not tell. Presently he walked toward +the conservatory, and a moment later Eve Glenn came tripping toward +her. + +"Oh, here you are!" she cried, flinging her arms about her in regular +school-girl _abandon_, and kissing the cold, proud mouth, that deigned +no answering caress. "Rex has been looking for you everywhere, and at +last commissioned me to find you and say he wants to speak to you. He +is out on the terrace." + +How she longed to ask if Rex's face was smiling or stern, but she +dared not. + +"Where did you say Rex was, Miss Glenn?" + +"I said he was out on the terrace; but don't call me Miss Glenn, for +pity's sake--it sounds so freezingly cold. Won't you please call me +Eve," cried the impetuous girl--"simply plain Eve? That has a more +friendly sound, you know." + +Another girl less proud than the haughty heiress would have kissed +Eve's pretty, piquant, upturned, roguish face. + +"What did Rex have to say to her?" she asked herself, in growing +dread. + +The last hope seemed withering in her proud, passionate heart. She +rose haughtily, and walked with the dignity of a queen through the +long drawing-room toward the terrace. Her heart almost stopped beating +as she caught sight of Rex leaning so gracefully against the trunk of +an old gnarled oak tree, smoking a cigar. That certainly did not look +as if he meant to greet her with a kiss. + +She went forward hesitatingly--a world of anxiety and suspense on her +face--to know her fate. The color surged over her face, then receded +from it again, as she looked at him with a smile--a smile that was +more pitiful than a sigh. + +"Rex," she cried, holding out her hands to him with a fluttering, +uncertain movement that stirred the perfumed laces of the exquisite +robe she wore, and the jewels on her white, nervous hands--"Rex, I am +here!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +We must now return to Daisy, whom we left standing in the heart of the +forest, the moonlight streaming on her upturned face, upon which the +startled horseman gazed. + +He had not waited for her to reply, but, touching his horse hastily +with his riding-whip, he sped onward with the speed of the wind. + +In that one instant Daisy had recognized the dark, sinister, handsome +face of Lester Stanwick. + +"They have searched the pit and found I was not there. He is searching +for me; he has tracked me down!" she cried, vehemently, pressing her +little white hands to her burning head. + +Faster, faster flew the little feet through the long dew-damp +grasses. + +"My troubles seem closing more darkly around me," she sobbed. "I wish +I had never been born, then I could never have spoiled Rex's life. But +I am leaving you, my love, my darling, so you can marry Pluma, the +heiress. You will forget me and be happy." + +Poor little, neglected, unloved bride, so fair, so young, so fragile, +out alone facing the dark terrors of the night, fleeing from the young +husband who was wearing his life out in grief for her. Ah, if the +gentle winds sighing above her, or the solemn, nodding trees had only +told her, how different her life might have been! + +"No one has ever loved me but poor old Uncle John!" She bent her fair +young head and cried out to Heaven: "Why has no mercy been shown to +me? I have never done one wrong, yet I am so sorely tried. Oh, mother, +mother!" she cried, raising her blue eyes up to the starry sky, "if +you could have foreseen the dark, cruel shadows that would have folded +their pitiless wings over the head of your child, would you not have +taken me with you down into the depths of the seething waters?" She +raised up her white hands pleadingly as though she would fain pierce +with her wrongs the blue skies, and reach the great White Throne. "I +must be going mad," she said. "Why did Rex seek me out?" she cried, in +anguish. "Why did Heaven let me love him so madly, and my whole life +be darkened by living apart from him if I am to live? I had no thought +of suffering and sorrow when I met him that summer morning. Are the +summer days to pass and never bring him? Are the flowers to bloom, the +sun to shine, the years to come and go, yet never bring him once to +me? I can not bear it--I do not know how to live!" + +If she could only see poor old, faithful John Brooks again she would +kneel at his feet just as she had done when she was a little child, +lay her weary head down on his toil-hardened hand, tell him how she +had suffered, and ask him how she could die and end it all. + +She longed so hungrily for some one to caress her, murmuring tender +words over her. She could almost hear his voice saying as she told +him her pitiful story: "Come to my arms, pet, my poor little trampled +Daisy! You shall never want for some one to love you while poor old +Uncle John lives. Bless your dear little heart!" + +The longing was strongly upon her. No one would recognize her--she +_must_ go and see poor old John. She never thought what would become +of her life after that. + +At the station she asked for a ticket for Allendale. No one seemed to +know of such a place. After a prolonged search on the map the agent +discovered it to be a little inland station not far from Baltimore. + +"We can sell you a ticket for Baltimore," he said, "and there you can +purchase a ticket for the other road." + +And once again poor little Daisy was whirling rapidly toward the scene +of her first great sorrow. + +Time seemed to slip by her unheeded during all that long, tedious +journey of two nights and a day. + +"Are you going to Baltimore?" asked a gentle-faced lady, who was +strangely attracted to the beautiful, sorrowful young girl, in which +all hope, life, and sunshine seemed dead. + +"Yes, madame," she made answer, "I change cars there; I am going +further." + +The lady was struck by the peculiar mournful cadence of the young +voice. + +"I beg your pardon for my seeming rudeness," she said, looking long +and earnestly at the fair young face; "but you remind me so strangely +of a young school-mate of my youth; you are strangely like what she +was then. We both attended Madame Whitney's seminary. Perhaps you have +heard of the institution; it is a very old and justly famous school." +She wondered at the beautiful flush that stole into the girl's +flower-like face--like the soft, faint tinting of a sea-shell. "She +married a wealthy planter," pursued the lady, reflectively; "but she +did not live long to enjoy her happy home. One short year after she +married Evalia Hurlhurst died." The lady never forgot the strange +glance that passed over the girl's face, or the wonderful light that +seemed to break over it. "Why," exclaimed the lady, as if a sudden +thought occurred to her, "when you bought your ticket I heard you +mention Allendale. That was the home of the Hurlhursts. Is it possible +you know them? Mr. Hurlhurst is a widower--something of a recluse, and +an invalid, I have heard; he has a daughter called Pluma." + +"Yes, madame," Daisy made answer, "I have met Miss Hurlhurst, but not +her father." + +How bitterly this stranger's words seemed to mock her! Did she know +Pluma Hurlhurst, the proud, haughty heiress who had stolen her young +husband's love from her?--the dark, sparkling, willful beauty who had +crossed her innocent young life so strangely--whom she had seen +bending over _her_ husband in the pitying moonlight almost caressing +him? She thought she would cry out with the bitterness of the thought. +How strange it was! The name, Evalia Hurlhurst, seemed to fall upon +her ears like the softest, sweetest music. Perhaps she wished she was +like that young wife, who had died so long ago, resting quietly +beneath the white daisies that bore her name. + +"That is Madame Whitney's," exclaimed the lady, leaning forward toward +the window excitedly. "Dear me! I can almost imagine I am a young girl +again. Why, what is the matter, my dear? You look as though you were +about to faint." + +The train whirled swiftly past--the broad, glittering Chesapeake on +one side, and the closely shaven lawn of the seminary on the other. It +was evidently recess. Young girls were flitting here and there under +the trees, as pretty a picture of happy school life as one would wish +to see. It seemed to poor hapless Daisy long ages must have passed +since that morning poor old John Brooks had brought her, a shy, +blushing, shrinking country lassie, among those daintily attired, +aristocratic maidens, who had laughed at her coy, timid mannerism, and +at the clothes poor John wore, and at his flaming red cotton +neckerchief. + +She had not much time for further contemplation. The train steamed +into the Baltimore depot, and she felt herself carried along by the +surging crowd that alighted from the train. + +She did not go into the waiting-room; she had quite forgotten she was +not at the end of her journey. + +She followed the crowds along the bustling street, a solitary, +desolate, heart-broken girl, with a weary white face whose beautiful, +tender eyes looked in vain among the throngs that passed her by for +one kindly face or a sympathetic look. + +Some pushed rudely by her, others looked into the beautiful face with +an ugly smile. Handsomely got-up dandies, with fine clothes and no +brains, nodded familiarly as Daisy passed them. Some laughed, and +others scoffed and jeered; but not one--dear Heaven! not one among the +vast throng gave her a kindly glance or a word. Occasionally one, +warmer hearted than the others, would look sadly on that desolate, +beautiful, childish face. + +A low moan she could scarcely repress broke from her lips. A +handsomely dressed child, who was rolling a hoop in front of her, +turned around suddenly and asked her if she was ill. + +"Ill?" She repeated the word with a vague feeling of wonder. What was +physical pain to the torture that was eating away her young life? Ill? +Why, all the illness in the world put together could not cause the +anguish she was suffering then--the sting of a broken heart. + +She was not ill--only desolate and forsaken. + +Poor Daisy answered in such a vague manner that she quite frightened +the child, who hurried away as fast as she could with her hoop, +pausing now and then to look back at the white, forlorn face on which +the sunshine seemed to cast such strange shadows. + +On and on Daisy walked, little heeding which way she went. She saw +what appeared to be a park on ahead, and there she bent her steps. The +shady seats among the cool green grasses under the leafy trees looked +inviting. She opened the gate and entered. A sudden sense of dizziness +stole over her, and her breath seemed to come in quick, convulsive +gasps. + +"Perhaps God has heard my prayer, Rex, my love," she sighed. "I am +sick and weary unto death. Oh, Rex--Rex--" + +The beautiful eyelids fluttered over the soft, blue eyes, and with +that dearly loved name on her lips, the poor little child-bride sunk +down on the cold, hard earth in a death-like swoon. + +"Oh, dear me, Harvey, who in the world is this?" cried a little, +pleasant-voiced old lady, who had witnessed the young girl enter the +gate, and saw her stagger and fall. In a moment she had fluttered down +the path, and was kneeling by Daisy's side. + +"Come here, Harvey," she called; "it is a young girl; she has +fainted." + +Mr. Harvey Tudor, the celebrated detective, threw away the cigar he +had been smoking, and hastened to his wife's side. + +"Isn't she beautiful?" cried the little lady, in ecstasy. "I wonder +who she is, and what she wanted." + +"She is evidently a stranger, and called to consult me professionally," +responded Mr. Tudor; "she must be brought into the house." + +He lifted the slight, delicate figure in his arms, and bore her into +the house. + +"I am going down to the office now, my dear," he said; "we have some +important cases to look after this morning. I will take a run up in +the course of an hour or so. If the young girl should recover and +wish to see me very particularly, I suppose you will have to send for +me. Don't get me away up here unless you find out the case is +imperative." + +And with a good-humored nod, the shrewd detective, so quiet and +domesticated at his own fireside, walked quickly down the path to the +gate, whistling softly to himself--thinking with a strange, puzzled +expression in his keen blue eyes, of Daisy. Through all of his +business transactions that morning the beautiful, childish face was +strangely before his mind's eye. + +"Confound it!" he muttered, seizing his hat, "I must hurry home and +find out at once who that pretty little creature is--and what she +wants." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +The sunny summer days came and went, lengthening themselves into long +weeks before Daisy Brooks opened her eyes to consciousness. No clew +could be found as to who the beautiful young stranger was. + +Mr. Tudor had proposed sending her to the hospital--but to this +proposition his wife would not listen. + +"No, indeed, Harvey," she exclaimed, twisting the soft, golden curls +over her white fingers, "she shall stay here where I can watch over +her myself, poor little dear." + +"You amaze me, my dear," expostulated her husband, mildly. "You can +not tell who you may be harboring." + +"Now, Harvey," exclaimed the little woman, bending over the beautiful, +still, white face resting against the crimson satin pillow, "don't +insinuate there could be anything wrong with this poor child. My +woman's judgment tells me she is as pure as those lilies in yonder +fountain's bed." + +"If you had seen as much of the world as I have, my dear, you would +take little stock in the innocence of beautiful women; very homely +women are rarely dangerous." + +"There is no use in arguing the point, Harvey. I have determined she +shall not be sent to the hospital, and she shall stay here." + +Mrs. Tudor carried the point, as she always did in every argument. + +"Well, my dear, if any ill consequences arise from this piece of folly +of yours, remember, I shirk all responsibility." + + "'When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't, + And when she won't--she won't, and there's an end on't,'" + +he quoted, dryly. "I sincerely hope you will not rue it." + +"Now, you would be surprised, my dear, to find out at some future time +you had been entertaining an angel unawares." + +"I should be _extremely_ surprised; you have put it mildly, my +dear--nay, I may say dumbfounded--to find an angel dwelling down here +below among us sinners. My experience has led me to believe the best +place for angels is up above where they belong. I am glad that _you_ +have such pretty little notions, though, my dear. It is not best for +women to know too much of the ways of the world." + +"Harvey, you shock me!" cried the little lady, holding up her hands in +horror at her liege lord's remarks. + +Still she had her own way in the matter, and Daisy stayed. + +Every day the detective grew more mystified as to who in the world she +could be. One thing was certain, she had seen some great trouble which +bid fair to dethrone her reason. + +At times she would clasp his hands, calling him Uncle John, begging +him piteously to tell her how she could die. And she talked +incoherently, too, of a dark, handsome woman's face, that had come +between her and some lost treasure. + +Then a grave look would come into the detective's face. He had seen +many such cases, and they always ended badly, he said to himself. She +had such an innocent face, so fair, so childish, he could not make up +his mind whether she was sinned against or had been guilty of a hidden +sin herself. + +Love must have something to do with it, he thought, grimly. Whenever +he saw such a hopeless, despairing look on a young and beautiful face +he always set it down as a love case in his own mind, and in nine +cases out of ten he was right. + +"Ah! it is the old, old story," he muttered. "A pretty, romantic +school-girl, and some handsome, reckless lover," and something very +much like an imprecation broke from his lips, thorough man of the +world though he was, as he ruminated on the wickedness of men. + +Two days before the marriage of Rex and Pluma was to be solemnized, +poor little Daisy awoke to consciousness, her blue eyes resting on the +joyous face of Mrs. Tudor, who bent over her with bated breath, gazing +into the upraised eyes, turned so wonderingly upon her. + +"You are to keep perfectly quiet, my dear," said Mrs. Tudor, +pleasantly, laying her hands on Daisy's lips as she attempted to +speak. "You must not try to talk or to think; turn your face from the +light, and go quietly to sleep for a bit, then you shall say what you +please." + +Daisy wondered who the lady was, as she obeyed her like an obedient, +tired child--the voice seemed so motherly, so kind, and so soothing, +as she lay there, trying to realize how she came there. Slowly all her +senses struggled into life, her memory came back, her mind and brain +grew clear. Then she remembered walking into the cool, shady garden, +and the dizziness which seemed to fall over her so suddenly. "I must +have fainted last night," she thought. She also remembered Pluma +bending so caressingly over her young husband in the moonlight, and +that the sight had almost driven her mad, and, despite her efforts to +suppress her emotion, she began to sob aloud. + +Mrs. Tudor hurried quickly to the bedside. She saw at once the ice +from the frozen fountain of memory had melted. + +"If you have any great sorrow on your mind, my dear, and wish to see +Mr. Tudor, I will call him at once. He is in the parlor." + +"Please don't," sobbed Daisy. "I don't want to see anybody. I must go +home to Uncle John at once. Have I been here all night?" + +"Why, bless your dear little heart, you have been here many a night +and many a week. We thought at one time you would surely die." + +"I wish I had," moaned Daisy. In the bitterness of her sorely wounded +heart she said to herself that Providence had done everything for her +without taking her life. + +"We thought," pursued Mrs. Tudor, gently, "that perhaps you desired to +see my husband--he is a detective--upon some matter. You fainted when +you were just within the gate." + +"Was it your garden?" asked Daisy, surprisedly. "I thought it was a +park!" + +"Then you were not in search of Mr. Tudor, my dear?" asked his wife, +quite mystified. + +"No," replied Daisy. "I wanted to get away from every one who knew me, +or every one I knew, except Uncle John." + +"I shall not question her concerning herself to-day," Mrs. Tudor +thought. "I will wait a bit until she is stronger." She felt delicate +about even asking her name. "She will seek my confidence soon," she +thought. "I must wait." + +Mrs. Tudor was a kind-hearted little soul. She tried every possible +means of diverting Daisy's attention from the absorbing sorrow which +seemed consuming her. + +She read her choice, sparkling paragraphs from the papers, commenting +upon them, in a pretty, gossiping way. + +Nothing seemed to interest the pretty little creature, or bring a +smile to the quivering, childish lips. + +"Ah! here is something quite racy!" she cried, drawing her chair up +closer to the bedside. "_A scandal in high life._ This is sure to be +entertaining." + +Mrs. Tudor was a good little woman, but, like all women in general, +she delighted in a spicy scandal. + +A handsome stranger had married a beautiful heiress. For a time all +went merry as a marriage-bell. Suddenly a second wife appeared on the +scene, of which no one previously knew the existence. The husband had +sincerely believed himself separated by law from wife number one, but +through some technicality of the law, the separation was pronounced +illegal, and the beautiful heiress bitterly realized to her cost that +she was no wife. + +"It must be a terrible calamity to be placed in such a predicament," +cried Mrs. Tudor, energetically. "I blame the husband for not finding +out beyond a doubt that he was free from his first wife." + +A sudden thought seemed to come to Daisy, so startling it almost took +her breath away. + +"Supposing a husband left his wife, and afterward thought her dead, +even though she were not, and he should marry again, would it not be +legal? Supposing the poor, deserted wife knew of it, but allowed him +to marry that some one else, because she believed he was unhappy with +herself, would it not be legal?" she repeated in an intense voice, +striving to appear calm. + +"I can scarcely understand the question, my dear. I should certainly +say, if the first wife knew her husband was about to remarry, and she +knew she was not separated from him by law or death, she was certainly +a criminal in allowing the ceremony to proceed. Why, did you ever hear +of such a peculiar case, my dear?" + +"No," replied Daisy, flushing crimson. "I was thinking of Enoch +Arden." + +"Why, there is scarcely a feature in Enoch Arden's case resembling the +one you have just cited. You must have made a mistake?" + +"Yes; you are right. I have made a mistake," muttered Daisy, growing +deadly pale. "I did not know. I believed it was right." + +"You believed what was right?" asked Mrs. Tudor, in amazement. + +"I believed it was right for the first wife to go out of her husband's +life if she had spoiled it, and leave him free to woo and win the +bride he loved," replied Daisy, pitifully embarrassed. + +"Why, you innocent child," laughed Mrs. Tudor, "I have said he would +_not_ be free as long as the law did not separate him from his first +wife, and she was alive. It is against the law of Heaven for any man +to have two wives; and if the first wife remained silent and saw the +sacred ceremony profaned by that silence, she broke the law of +Heaven--a sin against God beyond pardon. Did you speak?" she asked, +seeing Daisy's white lips move. + +She did not know a prayer had gone up to God from that young tortured +heart for guidance. + +Had she done wrong in letting Rex and the whole world believe her +dead? Was it ever well to do a wrong that good should come from it? + +And the clear, innocent, simple conscience was quick to answer, "No!" + +Poor Daisy looked at the position in every possible way, and the more +she reflected the more frightened she became. + +Poor, little, artless child-bride, she was completely bewildered. She +could find no way out of her difficulty until the idea occurred to her +that the best person to help her would be John Brooks; and her whole +heart and soul fastened eagerly on this. + +She could not realize she had lain ill so long. Oh, Heaven, what might +have happened in the meantime, if Rex should marry Pluma? She would +not be his wife because _she_--who was a barrier between them--lived. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +Daisy had decided the great question of her life. Yes, she would go to +John Brooks with her pitiful secret, and, kneeling at his feet, tell +him all, and be guided by his judgment. + +"I can never go back to Rex," she thought, wearily. "I have spoiled +his life; he does not love me; he wished to be free and marry Pluma." + +"You must not think of the troubles of other people, my dear," said +Mrs. Tudor, briskly, noting the thoughtful expression of the fair +young face. "Such cases as I have just read you are fortunately rare. +I should not have read you the scandals. Young girls like to hear +about the marriages best. Ah! here is one that is interesting--a grand +wedding which is to take place at Whitestone Hall, in Allendale, +to-morrow night. I have read of it before; it will be a magnificent +affair. The husband-to-be, Mr. Rexford Lyon, is very wealthy; and the +bride, Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, is quite a society belle--a beauty and an +heiress." + +Poor Daisy! although she had long expected it, the announcement seemed +like a death-blow to her loving little heart; in a single instant all +her yearning, passionate love for her handsome young husband awoke +into new life. + +She had suddenly awakened to the awful reality that her husband was +about to marry another. + +"Oh, pitiful Heaven, what shall I do?" she cried, wringing her hands. +"I will be too late to warn them. Yet I must--I must! It must not be!" +she cried out to herself; "the marriage would be wrong." If she +allowed it to go on, she would be guilty of a crime; therefore, she +must prevent it. + +Pluma was her mortal enemy. Yet she must warn her that the flower-covered +path she was treading led to a precipice. The very thought filled her +soul with horror. + +She wasted no more time in thinking, she must act. + +"I can not go to poor old Uncle John first," she told herself. "I must +go at once to Pluma. Heaven give me strength to do it. Rex will never +know, and I can go quietly out of his life again." + +The marriage must not be! Say, think, argue with herself as she would, +she could not help owning to herself that it was something that must +be stopped at any price. She had not realized it in its true light +before. She had had a vague idea that her supposed death would leave +Rex free to marry Pluma. That wrong could come of it, in any way, she +never once dreamed. + +The terrible awakening truth had flashed upon her suddenly; she might +hide herself forever from her husband, but it would not lessen the +fact; she, and she only, was his lawful wife before God and man. From +Heaven nothing could be hidden. + +Her whole heart seemed to go out to her young husband and cling to him +as it had never done before. + +"What a fatal love mine was!" she said to herself; "how fatal, how +cruel to me!" + +To-morrow night! Oh, Heaven! would she be in time to save him? The +very thought seemed to arouse all her energy. + +"Why, what are you going to do, my dear?" cried Mrs. Tudor, in +consternation, as Daisy staggered, weak and trembling, from her +couch. + +"I am going away," she cried. "I have been guilty of a great wrong. I +can not tell you all that I have done, but I must atone for it if it +is in my power while yet there is time. Pity me, but do not censure +me;" and sobbing as if her heart would break, she knelt at the feet of +the kind friend Heaven had given her and told her all. + +Mrs. Tudor listened in painful interest and amazement. It was a +strange story this young girl told her; it seemed more like a romance +than a page from life's history. + +"You say you must prevent this marriage at Whitestone Hall." She took +Daisy's clasped hands from her weeping face, and holding them in her +own looked into it silently, keenly, steadily. "How could you do it? +What is Rexford Lyon to you?" + +Lower and lower drooped the golden bowed head, and a voice like no +other voice, like nothing human, said: + +"I am Rex Lyon's wife, his wretched, unhappy, abandoned wife." + +Mrs. Tudor dropped her hands with a low cry of dismay. + +"You will keep my secret," sobbed Daisy; and in her great sorrow she +did not notice the lady did not promise. + +In vain Mrs. Tudor pleaded with her to go back to her husband and beg +him to hear her. + +"No," said Daisy, brokenly. "He said I had spoiled his life, and he +would never forgive me. I have never taken his name, and I never +shall. I will be Daisy Brooks until I die." + +"Daisy Brooks!" The name seemed familiar to Mrs. Tudor, yet she could +not tell where she had heard it before. + +Persuasion was useless. "Perhaps Heaven knows best," sighed Mrs. +Tudor, and with tears in her eyes (for she had really loved the +beautiful young stranger, thrown for so many long weeks upon her mercy +and kindness) she saw Daisy depart. + +"May God grant you may not be too late!" she cried, fervently, +clasping the young girl, for the last time, in her arms. + +Too late! The words sounded like a fatal warning to her. No, no; she +could not, she must not, be too late! + + * * * * * + +At the very moment Daisy had left the detective's house, Basil +Hurlhurst was closeted with Mr. Tudor in his private office, relating +minutely the disappearance of his infant daughter, as told him by the +dying housekeeper, Mrs. Corliss. + +"I will make you a rich man for life," he cried, vehemently, "if you +can trace my long-lost child, either dead or alive!" + +Mr. Tudor shook his head. "I am inclined to think there is little +hope, after all these years." + +"Stranger things than that have happened," cried Basil Hurlhurst, +tremulously. "You must give me hope, Mr. Tudor. You are a skillful, +expert detective; you will find her, if any one can. If my other child +were living," he continued, with an effort, "you know it would make +considerable difference in the distribution of my property. On the +night my lost child was born I made my will, leaving Whitestone Hall +and the Hurlhurst Plantations to the child just born, and the +remainder of my vast estates I bequeathed to my daughter Pluma. I +believed my little child buried with its mother, and in all these +years that followed I never changed that will--it still stands. My +daughter Pluma is to be married to-morrow night. I have not told her +of the startling discovery I have made; for if anything should come of +it, her hopes of a lifetime would be dashed. She believes herself sole +heiress to my wealth. I have made up my mind, however," he continued, +eagerly, "to confide in the young man who is to be my future +son-in-law. If nothing ever comes of this affair, Pluma need never +know of it." + +"That would be a wise and safe plan," assented the detective. + +"Wealth can have no influence over him," continued the father, +reflectively; "for Mr. Rex Lyon's wealth is sufficient for them, even +if they never had a single dollar from me; still, it is best to +mention this matter to him." + +Rex Lyon! Ah! the detective remembered him well--the handsome, +debonair young fellow who had sought his services some time since, +whose wife had died such a tragic death. He remembered how sorry he +had been for the young husband; still he made no comment. He had +little time to ruminate upon past affairs. It was his business now to +glean from Mr. Hurlhurst all the information possible to assist him in +the difficult search he was about to commence. If he gave him even the +slightest clew, he could have had some definite starting point. The +detective was wholly at sea--it was like looking for a needle in a +hay-stack. + +"You will lose no time," said Basil Hurlhurst, rising to depart. "Ah!" +he exclaimed, "I had forgotten to leave you my wife's portrait. I have +a fancy the child, if living, must have her mother's face." + +At that opportune moment some one interrupted them. Mr. Tudor had not +time to open the portrait and examine it then, and, placing it +securely in his private desk, he courteously bade Mr. Hurlhurst +good-afternoon; adding, if he _should_ find a possible clew, he would +let him know at once, or, perhaps, take a run up to Whitestone Hall to +look around a bit among the old inhabitants of that locality. + +It was almost time for quitting the office for the night, when the +detective thought of the portrait. He untied the faded blue ribbon, +and touched the spring; the case flew open, revealing a face that made +him cry out in amazement: + +"Pshaw! people have a strange trick of resembling each other very +often," he muttered; "I must be mistaken." + +Yet the more he examined the fair, bewitching face of the portrait, +with its childish face and sunny, golden curls, the more he knit his +brow and whistled softly to himself--a habit he had when thinking +deeply. + +He placed the portrait in his breast-pocket, and walked slowly home. A +brilliant idea was in his active brain. + +"I shall soon see," he muttered. + +His wife met him at the door, and he saw that her eyes were red with +weeping. + +"What is the commotion, my dear?" he asked, hanging his hat and coat +on the hat-rack in the hall. "What's the difficulty?" + +"Our protégée has gone, Harvey; she--" + +"Gone!" yelled the detective, frantically, "where did she go? How long +has she been gone?" + +Down from the rack came his hat and coat. + +"Where are you going, Harvey?" + +"I am going to hunt that girl up just as fast as I can." + +"She did not wish to see you, my dear." + +"I haven't the time to explain to you," he expostulated. "Of course, +you have no idea where she went, have you?" + +"Wait a bit, Harvey," she replied, a merry twinkle in her eye. "You +have given me no time to tell you. I do know where she went. Sit down +and I will tell you all about it." + +"You will make a long story out of nothing," he exclaimed, impatiently; +"and fooling my time here may cost me a fortune." + +Very reluctantly Mr. Tudor resumed his seat at his wife's earnest +persuasion. + +"Skim lightly over the details, my dear; just give me the main +points," he said. + +Like the good little wife she was, Mrs. Tudor obediently obeyed. + +It was not often the cool, calculating detective allowed himself to +get excited, but as she proceeded he jumped up from his seat, and +paced restlessly up and down the room. He was literally astounded. + +"Rex Lyon's wife," he mused, thoughtfully. "Well, in all the years of +my experience I have never come across anything like this. She has +gone to Whitestone Hall, you say, to stop the marriage?" he +questioned, eagerly. + +"Yes," she replied, "the poor child was almost frantic over it. You +seem greatly agitated, Harvey. Have you some new case connected with +her?" + +"Yes," he answered, grimly. "I think I have two cases." + +Mr. Tudor seldom brought his business perplexities to his fireside. +His little wife knew as little of business matters as the sparrows +twittering on the branches of the trees out in the garden. + +He made up his mind not to mention certain suspicions that had lodged +in his mind until he saw his way clearly out of the complicated +affair. + +He determined it would do no harm to try an experiment, however. +Suiting the action to the thought, he drew out the portrait from his +pocket. + +"I do not think I shall have as much trouble with this affair as I +anticipated." + +Mrs. Tudor came and leaned over his shoulder. + +"Whose picture have you there, Harvey? Why, I declare," she cried, in +amazement, "if it isn't Daisy Brooks!" + +"Mrs. Rex Lyon, you mean," said the detective, with a sly twinkle in +his eye. "But for once in your life you are at sea--and far from +shore; this portrait represents a different person altogether. Come, +come, wife, get me a cup of tea--quick--and a biscuit," he cried, +leading the way to the kitchen, where the savory supper was cooking. +"I haven't time to wait for tea, I must overtake that girl before she +reaches Whitestone Hall." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +The shade of night was wrapping its dusky mantle over the earth as +Daisy, flushed and excited, and trembling in every limb, alighted from +the train at Allendale. + +Whitestone Hall was quite a distance from the station; she had quite a +walk before her. + +Not a breath of air seemed to stir the branches of the trees, and the +inky blackness of the sky presaged the coming storm. + +Since dusk the coppery haze seemed to gather itself together; great +purple masses of clouds piled themselves in the sky; a lurid light +overspread the heavens, and now and then the dense, oppressive silence +was broken by distant peals of thunder, accompanied by great fierce +rain-drops. + +Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, struggling bravely on through +the storm and the darkness, her heart beating so loudly she wondered +it did not break. + +Poor child! how little she knew she was fast approaching the crisis of +her life! + +She remembered, with a little sob, the last time she had traversed +that road--she was seated by John Brooks's side straining her eyes +toward the bend in the road, watching eagerly for the first glimpse of +the magnolia-tree, and the handsome young husband waiting there. + +Coy blushes suffused Daisy's cheeks as she struggled on through the +pouring rain. She forgot she was a wretched, unpitied, forsaken little +bride, on a mission of such great importance. She was only a simple +child, after all, losing sight of all the whole world, as her thoughts +dwelt on the handsome young fellow, her husband in name only, whom she +saw waiting for her at the trysting-place, looking so cool, so +handsome and lovable in his white linen suit and blue tie; his white +straw hat, with the blue-dotted band around it, lying on the green +grass beside him, and the sunshine drifting through the green leaves +on his smiling face and brown, curling hair. + +"If Rex had only known I was innocent, he could not have judged me so +harshly. Oh, my love--my love!" she cried out. "Heaven must have made +us for each other, but a fate more cruel than death has torn us +asunder. Oh, Rex, my love, if you had only been more patient with +me!" + +She crept carefully along the road through the intense darkness and +the down-pouring rain. She knew every inch of the ground. She could +not lose her way. She reached the turn in the road which was but a few +feet distant from the magnolia-tree where first she had met Rex and +where she had seen him last--a few steps more and she would reach it. + +A blinding glare of lightning lighted up the scene for one brief +instant; there was the tree, but, oh! was it only a fancy of her +imagination? she thought she saw a man's figure kneeling under it. + +"Who was he, and what was he doing there?" she wondered. She stood +rooted to the spot. "Perhaps he had taken refuge there from the fury +of the storm." + +Daisy was a shrinking, timid little creature; she dared not move a +step further, although the golden moments that flitted by were as +precious as her life-blood. + +She drew back, faint with fear, among the protecting shadows of the +trees. Another flash of light--the man was surely gathering wild +flowers from the rain-drenched grass. + +"Surely the man must be mad," thought Daisy, with a cold thrill of +horror. + +Her limbs trembled so from sheer fright they refused to bear her +slight weight, and with a shudder of terror she sunk down in the wet +grass, her eyes fixed as one fascinated on the figure under the tree, +watching his every movement, as the lurid lightning illumined the +scene at brief intervals. + +The great bell from the turret of Whitestone Hall pealed the hour of +seven, and in the lightning's flash she saw the man arise from his +knees; in one hand he held a small bunch of flowers, the other was +pressed over his heart. + +Surely there was something strangely familiar in that graceful form; +then he turned his face toward her. + +In that one instantaneous glance she had recognized him--it was Rex, +her husband--as he turned hastily from the spot, hurrying rapidly away +in the direction of Whitestone Hall. + +"Why was Rex there alone on his wedding-night under the magnolia-tree +in the terrible storm?" she asked herself, in a strange, bewildered +way. "What could it mean?" She had heard the ceremony was to be +performed promptly at half past eight, it was seven already. "What +could it mean?" + +She had been too much startled and dismayed when she found it was Rex +to make herself known. Ah, no, Rex must never know she was so near +him; it was Pluma she must see. + +"Why had he come to the magnolia-tree?" she asked herself over and +over again. A moment later she had reached the self-same spot, and was +kneeling beneath the tree, just as Rex had done. She put out her +little white hand to caress the grass upon which her husband had +knelt, but it was not grass which met her touch, but a bed of flowers; +that was strange, too. + +She never remembered flowers to grow on that spot. There was nothing +but the soft carpet of green grass, she remembered. + +One or two beneath her touch were broken from the stem. She knew Rex +must have dropped them, and the poor little soul pressed the flowers +to her lips, murmuring passionate, loving words over them. She did not +know the flowers were daisies; yet they seemed so familiar to the +touch. + +She remembered how she had walked home from the rectory with Rex in +the moonlight, and thought to herself how funny it sounded to hear Rex +call her his wife, in that rich melodious voice of his. Septima had +said it was such a terrible thing to be married. She had found it just +the reverse, as she glanced up into her pretty young husband's face, +as they walked home together; and how well she remembered how Rex had +taken her in his arms at the gate, kissing her rosy, blushing face, +until she cried out for mercy. + +A sudden, blinding flash of lightning lighted up the spot with a lurid +light, and she saw a little white cross, with white daisies growing +around it, and upon the cross, in that one meteoric flash, she read +the words, "Sacred to the memory of Daisy Brooks." + +She did not faint, or cry out, or utter any word. She realized all in +an instant why Rex had been there. Perhaps he felt some remorse for +casting her off so cruelly. If some tender regret for her, whom he +supposed dead, was not stirring in his heart, why was he there, +kneeling before the little cross which bore her name, on his +wedding-night? + +Could it be that he had ever loved her? She held out her arms toward +the blazing lights that shone in the distance from Whitestone Hall, +with a yearning, passionate cry. Surely, hers was the saddest fate +that had ever fallen to the lot of a young girl. + +A great thrill of joy filled her heart, that she was able to prevent +the marriage. + +She arose from her knees and made her way swiftly through the storm +and the darkness, toward the distant cotton fields. She did not wish +to enter the Hall by the main gate; there was a small path, seldom +used, that led to the Hall, which she had often taken from John +Brooks's cottage; that was the one she chose to-night. + +Although the storm raged in all its fury without, the interior of +Whitestone Hall was ablaze with light, that streamed with a bright, +golden glow from every casement. + +Strains of music, mingled with the hum of voices, fell upon Daisy's +ear, as she walked hurriedly up the path. The damp air that swept +across her face with the beating rain was odorous with the perfume of +rare exotics. + +The path up which she walked commanded a full view of Pluma +Hurlhurst's boudoir. + +The crimson satin curtains, for some reason, were still looped back, +and she could see the trim little maid arranging her long dark hair; +she wore a silver-white dressing-robe, bordered around with soft +white swan's-down and her dainty white satin-slippered feet rested on +a crimson velvet hassock. + +"How beautiful she is!" thought the poor little child-wife, wistfully +gazing at her fair, false enemy. "I can not wonder Rex is dazzled by +her peerless, royal beauty. I was mad to indulge the fatal, foolish +dream that he could ever love me, poor, plain little Daisy Brooks." + +Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, and her thick veil more +securely over her face. As she raised the huge brass knocker her heart +beat pitifully, yet she told herself she must be brave to the bitter +end. + +One, two, three minutes passed. Was no one coming to answer the +summons? Yes--some one came at last, a spruce little French maid, whom +Daisy never remembered having seen before. + +She laughed outright when Daisy falteringly stated her errand. + +"You are mad to think mademoiselle will see you to-night," she +answered, contemptuously. "Do you not know this is her wedding-night?" + +"She is not married _yet_?" cried Daisy, in a low, wailing voice. "Oh, +I must see her!" + +With a quizzical expression crossing her face the girl shrugged her +shoulders, as she scanned the little dark, dripping figure, answering +mockingly: + +"The poor make one grand mistake, insisting on what the rich must do. +I say again, my lady will not see you--you had better go about your +business." + +"Oh, I _must_ see her! indeed, I must!" pleaded Daisy. "Your heart, +dear girl, is human, and you can see my anguish is no light one." + +Her courage and high resolve seemed to give way, and she wept--as +women weep only once in a lifetime--but the heart of the French maid +was obdurate. + +"Mademoiselle would only be angry," she said; "it would be as much as +my place is worth to even mention you to her." + +"But my errand can brook no delay," urged Daisy. "You do not realize," +she gasped, brokenly, while her delicate frame was shaken with sobs, +and the hot tears fell like rain down her face. + +"All that you say is useless," cried the girl, impatiently, as she +purposely obstructed the passage-way, holding the doorknob in her +hand; "all your speech is in vain--she will not see you, I say--I will +not take her your message." + +"Then I will go to her myself," cried Daisy, in desperate determination. + +"What's the matter, Marie?" cried a shrill voice from the head of the +rose-lighted stairway; "what in the world keeps you down there so +long? Come here instantly." + +Daisy knew too well the handsome, impatient face and the imperious, +commanding voice. + +"Miss Hurlhurst," she called out, piteously, "I must see you for a few +minutes. I shall die if you refuse me. My errand is one of almost life +and death; if you knew how vitally important it was you would not +refuse me," she panted. + +Pluma Hurlhurst laughed a little hard laugh that had no music in it. + +"What would a hundred lives or deaths matter to me?" she said, +contemptuously. "I would not listen to you ten minutes to-night if I +actually knew it was to save your life," cried the haughty beauty, +stamping her slippered foot impatiently. + +"It is for your own sake," pleaded Daisy. "See, I kneel to you, Miss +Hurlhurst. If you would not commit a crime, I implore you by all you +hold sacred, to hear me--grant me but a few brief moments." + +"Not an instant," cried Pluma, scornfully; "shut the door, Marie, and +send that person from the house." + +"Oh, what shall I do!" cried Daisy, wringing her hands. "I am driven +to the very verge of madness! Heaven pity me--the bitter consequence +must fall upon your own head." + +She turned away with a low, bitter cry, as the maid slammed the heavy +oaken door in her face. + +"There is no other way for me to do," she told herself, despairingly, +"but to see Rex. I do not know how I am going to live through the +ordeal of entering his presence--listening to his voice--knowing I +bring him such a burden of woe--spoiling his life for the second +time." + +She did not hear the door quietly reopen. + +"I have heard all that has just passed, young lady," said a kind voice +close beside her. "I am extremely sorry for you--your case seems a +pitiful one. I am sorry my daughter refused to see you; perhaps I can +be of some assistance to you. I am Miss Hurlhurst's father." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +For a moment Daisy stood irresolute. "Follow me into my study, and +tell me your trouble. You say it concerns my daughter. Perhaps I can +advise you." + +Ah, yes! he above all others could help her--he was Pluma's father--he +could stop the fatal marriage. She would not be obliged to face Rex. + +Without another word Daisy turned and followed him. Although Daisy had +lived the greater portion of her life at John Brooks' cottage on the +Hurlhurst plantation, this was the first time she had ever gazed upon +the face of the recluse master of Whitestone Hall. He had spent those +years abroad; and poor Daisy's banishment dated from the time the lawn +fête had been given in honor of their return. + +Daisy glanced shyly up through her veil with a strange feeling of awe +at the noble face, with the deep lines of suffering around the mouth, +as he opened his study door, and, with a stately inclination of the +head, bade her enter. + +"His face is not like Pluma's," she thought, with a strange flutter at +her heart. "He looks good and kind. I am sure I can trust him." + +Daisy was quite confused as she took the seat he indicated. Mr. +Hurlhurst drew up his arm-chair opposite her, and waited with the +utmost patience for her to commence. + +She arose and stood before him, clasping her trembling little white +hands together supplicatingly. He could not see her face, for she +stood in the shadow, and the room was dimly lighted; but he knew that +the sweet, pathetic voice was like the sound of silvery bells chiming +some half-forgotten strain. + +"I have come to tell you this wedding can not--must not--go on +to-night!" she cried, excitedly. + +Basil Hurlhurst certainly thought the young girl standing before him +must be mad. + +"I do not understand," he said, slowly, yet gently. "Why do you, a +stranger, come to me on my daughter's wedding-night with such words as +these? What reason can you offer why this marriage should not +proceed?" + +He could not tell whether she had heard his words or not, she stood +before him so silent, her little hands working nervously together. She +looked wistfully into his face, and she drew her slender figure up to +its full height, as she replied, in a low, passionate, musical voice: + +"Mr. Lyon can not marry your daughter, sir, for he has a living +wife." + +"Mr. Lyon has a wife?" repeated Basil Hurlhurst, literally dumbfounded +with amazement. "In Heaven's name, explain yourself!" he cried, rising +hastily from his chair and facing her. + +The agitation on his face was almost alarming. His grand old face was +as white as his linen. His eyes were full of eager, painful suspense +and excitement. With a violent effort at self-control he restrained +his emotions, sinking back in his arm-chair like one who had received +an unexpected blow. + +Daisy never remembered in what words she told him the startling truth. +He never interrupted her until she had quite finished. + +"You will not blame Rex," she pleaded, her sweet voice choking with +emotion; "he believes me dead." + +Basil Hurlhurst did not answer; his thoughts were too confused. Yes, +it was but too true--the marriage could not go on. He reached hastily +toward the bell-rope. + +"You will not let my--Rex know until I am far away," she cried, +piteously, as she put her marriage certificate in Mr. Hurlhurst's +hand. + +"I am going to send for Rex to come here at once," he made answer. + +With a low, agonized moan, Daisy grasped his outstretched hand, +scarcely knowing what she did. + +"Oh, please do not, Mr. Hurlhurst," she sobbed. "Rex must not see me; +I should die if you sent for him; I could not bear it--indeed, I could +not." She was looking at him, all her heart in her eyes, and, as if he +felt magnetically the power of her glance, he turned toward her, +meeting the earnest gaze of the blue, uplifted eyes. + +The light fell full upon her fair, flushed face, and the bonnet and +veil she wore had fallen back from the golden head. + +A sudden mist seemed to come before his eyes, and he caught his breath +with a sharp gasp. + +"What did you say your name was before you were married?" he asked, in +a low, intense voice. "I--I--did not quite understand." + +"Daisy Brooks, your overseer's niece," she answered, simply. + +She wondered why he uttered such a dreary sigh as he muttered, half +aloud, how foolish he was to catch at every straw of hope. + +Carefully he examined the certificate. It was too true. It certainly +certified Rexford Lyon and Daisy Brooks were joined together in the +bonds of matrimony nearly a year before. And then he looked at the +paper containing the notice of her tragic death, which Daisy had read +and carefully saved. Surely no blame could be attached to Rex, in the +face of these proofs. + +He was sorry for the beautiful, haughty heiress, to whom this terrible +news would be a great shock; he was sorry for Rex, he had grown so +warmly attached to him of late, but he felt still more sorry for the +fair child-bride, toward whom he felt such a yearning, sympathetic +pity. + +The great bell in the tower slowly pealed the hour of eight, with a +dull, heavy clang, and he suddenly realized what was to be done must +be done at once. + +"I must send for both Rex and Pluma," he said, laying his hands on the +beautiful, bowed head; "but, if it will comfort you to be unobserved +during the interview, you shall have your wish." He motioned her to +one of the curtained recesses, and placed her in an easy-chair. He saw +she was trembling violently. + +It was a hard ordeal for him to go through, but there was no +alternative. + +He touched the bell with a shaking hand, thrusting the certificate and +paper into his desk. + +"Summon my daughter Pluma to me at once," he said to the servant who +answered the summons, "and bid Mr. Lyon come to me here within half an +hour." + +He saw the man held a letter in his hand. + +"If you please, sir," said the man, "as I was coming to answer your +bell I met John Brooks, your overseer, in the hall below. A stranger +was with him, who requested me to give you this without delay." + +Basil Hurlhurst broke open the seal. There were but a few penciled +words, which ran as follows: + + "MR. HURLHURST,--Will you kindly grant me an immediate interview? + I shall detain you but a few moments. + + "Yours, hastily, + "HARVEY TUDOR, + "Of Tudor, Peck & Co, Detectives, Baltimore." + +The man never forgot the cry that came from his master's lips as he +read those brief words. + +"Yes, tell him to come up at once," he cried; "I will see him here." + +He forgot the message he had sent for Pluma and Rex--forgot the +shrinking, timid little figure in the shadowy drapery of the +curtains--even the gay hum of the voices down below, and the strains +of music, or that the fatal marriage moment was drawing near. + +He was wondering if the detective's visit brought him a gleam of hope. +Surely he could have no other object in calling so hurriedly on this +night above all other nights. + +A decanter of wine always sat on the study table. He turned toward it +now with feverish impatience, poured out a full glass with his nervous +fingers, and drained it at a single draught. + +A moment later the detective and John Brooks, looking pale and +considerably excited, were ushered into the study. + +For a single instant the master of Whitestone Hall glanced into the +detective's keen gray eyes for one ray of hope, as he silently grasped +his extended hand. + +"I see we are alone," said Mr. Tudor, glancing hurriedly around the +room--"we three, I mean," he added. + +Suddenly Basil Hurlhurst thought of the young girl, quite hidden from +view. + +"No," he answered, leading the way toward an inner room, separated +from the study by a heavy silken curtain; "but in this apartment we +shall certainly be free from interruption. Your face reveals nothing," +he continued, in an agitated voice, "but I believe you have brought me +news of my child." + +Basil Hurlhurst had no idea the conversation carried on in the small +apartment to which he had conducted them could be overheard from the +curtained recess in which Daisy sat. But he was mistaken; Daisy could +hear every word of it. + +She dared not cry out or walk forth from her place of concealment lest +she should come suddenly face to face with Rex. + +As the light had fallen on John Brooks' honest face, how she had +longed to spring forward with a glad little cry and throw herself into +his strong, sheltering arms! She wondered childishly why he was there +with Mr. Tudor, the detective, whose voice she had instantly +recognized. + +"I have two errands here to-night," said the detective, pleasantly. "I +hope I shall bring good news, in one sense; the other we will discuss +later on." + +The master of Whitestone Hall made no comments; still he wondered why +the detective had used the words "one sense." Surely, he thought, +turning pale, his long-lost child could not be dead. + +Like one in a dream, Daisy heard the detective go carefully over the +ground with Basil Hurlhurst--all the incidents connected with the loss +of his child. Daisy listened out of sheer wonder. She could not tell +why. + +"I think we have the right clew," continued the detective, "but we +have no actual proof to support our supposition; there is one part +still cloudy." + +There were a few low-murmured words spoken to John Brooks. There was a +moment of silence, broken by her uncle John's voice. For several +moments he talked rapidly and earnestly, interrupted now and then by +an exclamation of surprise from the master of Whitestone Hall. + +Every word John Brooks uttered pierced Daisy's heart like an arrow. +She uttered a little, sharp cry, but no one heard her. She fairly held +her breath with intense interest. Then she heard the detective tell +them the story of Rex Lyon's marriage with her, and he had come to +Whitestone Hall to stop the ceremony about to be performed. + +Basil Hurlhurst scarcely heeded his words. He had risen to his feet +with a great, glad cry, and pushed aside the silken curtains that led +to the study. As he did so he came face to face with Daisy Brooks, +standing motionless, like a statue, before him. Then she fell, with a +low, gasping cry, senseless at Basil Hurlhurst's feet. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +Pluma Hurlhurst received her father's summons with no little surprise. +"What can that foolish old man want, I wonder?" she soliloquized, +clasping the diamond-studded bracelets on her perfect arms. "I shall +be heartily glad when I am Rex Lyon's wife. I shall soon tell him, +then, in pretty plain words, I am not at his beck and call any longer. +Come to him instantly, indeed! I shall certainly do no such thing," +she muttered. + +"Did you speak, mademoiselle?" asked the maid. + +"No," replied Pluma, glancing at the little jeweled watch that +glittered in its snow-white velvet case. She took it up with a +caressing movement. "How foolish I was to work myself up into such a +fury of excitement, when Rex sent for me to present me with the +jewels!" she laughed, softly, laying down the watch, and taking up an +exquisite jeweled necklace, admired the purity and beauty of the soft, +white, gleaming stones. + +The turret-bell had pealed the hour of eight; she had yet half an +hour. + +She never could tell what impulse prompted her to clasp the shining +gems around her white throat, even before she had removed her +dressing-robe. + +She leaned back dreamily in her cushioned chair, watching the effect +in the mirror opposite. + +Steadfastly she gazed at the wondrous loveliness of the picture she +made, the dark, lustrous eyes, gleaming with unwonted brilliancy, with +their jetty fringe; the rich, red lips, and glowing cheeks. + +"There are few such faces in the world," she told herself triumphantly. + +Those were the happiest moments proud, peerless Pluma Hurlhurst was +ever to know--"before the hour should wane the fruition of all her +hopes would be attained." + +No feeling of remorse stole over her to imbitter the sweets of her +triumphant thoughts. + +She had lived in a world of her own, planning and scheming, wasting +her youth, her beauty, and her genius, to accomplish the one great +ultimatum--winning Rex Lyon's love. + +She took from her bosom a tiny vial, containing a few white, flaky +crystals. "I shall not need this now," she told herself. "If Lester +Stanwick had intended to interfere he would have done so ere this; he +has left me to myself, realizing his threats were all in vain; yet I +have been sore afraid. Rex will never know that I lied and schemed to +win his love, or that I planned the removal of Daisy Brooks from his +path so cleverly; he will never know that I have deceived him, or the +wretched story of my folly and passionate, perilous love. I could not +have borne the shame and the exposure; there would have been but one +escape"--quite unconsciously she slid the vial into the pocket of her +silken robe--"I have lived a coward's life; I should have died a +coward's death." + +"It is time to commence arranging your toilet, mademoiselle," said the +maid, approaching her softly with the white glimmering satin robe, and +fleecy veil over her arm. "My fingers are deft, but you have not one +moment to spare." + +Pluma waved her off with an imperious gesture. + +"Not yet," she said. "I suppose I might as well go down first as last +to see what in the world he wants with me; he should have come to me +if he had wished to see me so very particularly;" and the dutiful +daughter, throwing the train of her dress carelessly over her arm, +walked swiftly through the brilliantly lighted corridor toward Basil +Hurlhurst's study. She turned the knob and entered. The room was +apparently deserted. "Not here!" she muttered, with surprise. "Well, +my dear, capricious father, I shall go straight back to my apartments. +You shall come to me hereafter." As she turned to retrace her steps a +hand was laid upon her shoulder, and a woman's voice whispered close +to her ear: + +"I was almost afraid I should miss you--fate is kind." + +Pluma Hurlhurst recoiled from the touch, fairly holding her breath, +speechless with fury and astonishment. + +"You insolent creature!" she cried. "I wonder at your boldness in +forcing your presence upon me. Did I not have you thrust from the +house an hour ago, with the full understanding I would not see you, no +matter who you were or whom you wanted." + +"I was not at the door an hour ago," replied the woman, coolly; "it +must have been some one else. I have been here--to Whitestone +Hall--several times before, but you have always eluded me. You shall +not do so to-night. You shall listen to what I have come to say to +you." + +For once in her life the haughty, willful heiress was completely taken +aback, and she sunk into the arm-chair so lately occupied by Basil +Hurlhurst. + +"I shall ring for the servants, and have you thrown from the house; +such impudence is unheard of, you miserable creature!" + +She made a movement toward the bell-rope, but the woman hastily thrust +her back into her seat, crossed over, turned the key in the lock, and +hastily removed it. Basil Hurlhurst and John Brooks were about to rush +to her assistance, but the detective suddenly thrust them back, +holding up his hand warningly. + +"Not yet," he whispered; "we will wait until we know what this strange +affair means. I shall request you both to remain perfectly quiet until +by word or signal I advise you to act differently." + +And, breathless with interest, the three, divided only by the silken +hanging curtains, awaited eagerly further developments of the strange +scene being enacted before them. + +Pluma's eyes flashed like ebony fires, and unrestrained passion was +written on every feature of her face, as the woman took her position +directly in front of her with folded arms, and dark eyes gleaming +quite as strangely as her own. Pluma, through sheer astonishment at +her peculiar, deliberate manner, was hushed into strange expectancy. + +For some moments the woman gazed into her face, coolly--deliberately--her +eyes fastening themselves on the diamond necklace which clasped her +throat, quivering with a thousand gleaming lights. + +"You are well cared for," she said, with a harsh, grating laugh, that +vibrated strangely on the girl's ear. "You have the good things of +life, while I have only the hardships. I am a fool to endure it. I +have come to you to-night to help me--and you must do it." + +"Put the key in that door instantly, or I shall cry out for +assistance. I have heard of insolence of beggars, but certainly this +is beyond all imagination. How dare you force your obnoxious presence +upon me? I will not listen to another word; you shall suffer for this +outrage, woman! Open the door instantly, I say." + +She did not proceed any further in her breathless defiance of retort; +the woman coolly interrupted her with that strange, grating laugh +again, as she answered, authoritatively: + +"I shall not play at cross-purposes with you any longer; it is plainly +evident there is little affection lost between us. You will do exactly +as I say, Pluma; you may spare yourself a great deal that may be +unpleasant--if you not only listen but quietly obey me. Otherwise--" + +Pluma sprung wildly to her feet. + +"Obey you! obey you!" + +She would have screamed the words in her ungovernable rage, had not a +look from this woman's eyes, who used her name with such ill-bred +familiarity, actually frightened her. + +"Be sensible and listen to what I intend you shall hear, and, as I +said and repeat, obey. You have made a slight mistake in defying me, +young lady. I hoped and intended to be your friend and adviser; but +since you have taken it into your head to show such an aversion to me, +it will be so much the worse for you, for I fully intend you shall act +hereafter under my instructions; it has spoiled you allowing you to +hold the reins in your own hands unchecked." + +"Oh, you horrible creature! I shall have you arrested and--" + +The woman interrupted her gasping, vindictive words again, more +imperiously than before. + +"Hush! not another word; you will not tell any one a syllable of what +has passed in this room." + +"Do you dare threaten me in my own house," cried Pluma, fairly beside +herself with passion. "I begin to believe you are not aware to whom +you are speaking. You shall not force me to listen. I shall raise the +window and cry out to the guests below." + +"Very well, then. I find I am compelled to tell you something I never +intended you should know--something that, unless I am greatly mistaken +in my estimate of you, will change your high and mighty notions +altogether." + +The woman was bending so near her, her breath almost scorched her +cheek. + +"I want money," she said, her thin lips quivering in an evil smile, +"and it is but right that you should supply me with it. Look at the +diamonds, representing a fortune, gleaming on your throat, while I am +lacking the necessaries of life." + +"What is that to me?" cried Pluma, scornfully. "Allow me to pass from +the room, and I will send my maid back to you with a twenty-dollar +note. My moments are precious; do not detain me." + +The woman laughed contemptuously. + +"Twenty dollars, indeed!" she sneered, mockingly. "Twenty thousand +will not answer my purpose. From this time forth I intend to live as +befits a lady. I want that necklace you are wearing, as security that +you will produce the required sum for me before to-morrow night." + +The coarse proposal amazed Pluma. + +"I thought Whitestone Hall especially guarded against thieves," she +said, steadily. "You seem to be a desperate woman; but I, Pluma +Hurlhurst, do not fear you. We will pass over the remarks you have +just uttered as simply beyond discussion." + +With a swift, gliding motion she attempted to reach the bell-rope. +Again the woman intercepted her. + +"Arouse the household if you dare!" hissed the woman, tightening her +hold upon the white arm upon which the jewels flashed and quivered. +"If Basil Hurlhurst knew what I know you would be driven from this +house before an hour had passed." + +"I--I--do not know what you mean," gasped Pluma, her great courage and +fortitude sinking before this woman's fearlessness and defiant +authority. + +"No, you don't know what I mean; and little you thank me for carrying +the treacherous secret since almost the hour of your birth. It is time +for you to know the truth at last. You are not the heiress of +Whitestone Hall--you are not Basil Hurlhurst's child!" + +Pluma's face grew deathly white; a strange mist seemed gathering +before her. + +"I can not--seem--to--grasp--what you mean, or who you are to terrify +me so." + +A mocking smile played about the woman's lips as she replied, in a +slow, even, distinct voice: + +"I am your mother, Pluma!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +At the self-same moment that the scene just described was being +enacted in the study Rex Lyon was pacing to and fro in his room, +waiting for the summons of Pluma to join the bridal-party in the +corridor and adjourn to the parlors below, where the guests and the +minister awaited them. + +He walked toward the window and drew aside the heavy curtains. The +storm was beating against the window-pane as he leaned his feverish +face against the cool glass, gazing out into the impenetrable darkness +without. + +Try as he would to feel reconciled to his marriage he could not do it. +How could he promise at the altar to love, honor, and cherish the wife +whom he was about to wed? + +He might honor and cherish her, but love her he could not, no matter +for all the promises he might make. The power of loving was directed +from Heaven above--it was not for mortals to accept or reject at +will. + +His heart seemed to cling with a strange restlessness to Daisy, the +fair little child-bride, whom he had loved so passionately--his first +and only love, sweet little Daisy! + +From the breast-pocket of his coat he took the cluster of daisies he +had gone through the storm on his wedding-night to gather. He was +waiting until the monument should arrive before he could gather +courage to tell Pluma the sorrowful story of his love-dream. + +All at once he remembered the letter a stranger had handed him outside +of the entrance gate. He had not thought much about the matter until +now. Mechanically he picked it up from the mantel, where he had tossed +it upon entering the room, glancing carelessly at the superscription. +His countenance changed when he saw it; his lips trembled, and a hard, +bitter light crept into his brown eyes. He remembered the chirography +but too well. + +"From Stanwick!" he cried, leaning heavily against the mantel. + +Rex read the letter through with a burning flush on his face, which +grew white as with the pallor of death as he read; a dark mist was +before his eyes, the sound of surging waters in his ears. + +"OLD COLLEGE CHUM,"--it began,--"For the sake of those happy hours of +our school-days, you will please favor me by reading what I have +written to the end. + +"If you love Pluma Hurlhurst better than your sense of honor this +letter is of no avail. I can not see you drifting on to ruin without +longing to save you. You have been cleverly caught in the net the +scheming heiress has set for you. It is certainly evident she loves +you with a love which is certainly a perilous one. There is not much +safety in the fierce, passionate love of a desperate, jealous woman. +You will pardon me for believing at one time your heart was elsewhere. +You will wonder why I refer to that; it will surprise you to learn, +that one subject forms the basis of this letter. I refer to little +Daisy Brooks. + +"You remember the night you saw little Daisy home, burning with +indignation at the cut direct--which Pluma had subjected the pretty +little fairy to? I simply recall that fact, as upon that event hangs +the terrible sequel which I free my conscience by unfolding. You had +scarcely left the Hall ere Pluma called me to her side. + +"'Do not leave me, Lester,' she said; 'I want to see you; remain until +after all the guests have left.' + +"I did so. You have read the lines: + + "'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, + Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned'? + +"They were too truly exemplified in the case of Pluma Hurlhurst when +she found you preferred little golden-haired Daisy Brooks to her own +peerless self. 'What shall I do, Lester,' she cried, 'to strike his +heart? What shall I do to humble his mighty pride as he has humbled +mine?' Heaven knows, old boy, I am ashamed to admit the shameful +truth. I rather enjoyed the situation of affairs. 'My love is turned +to hate!' she cried, vehemently. 'I must strike him through his love +for that little pink-and-white baby-faced creature he is so madly +infatuated with. Remove her from his path, Lester,' she cried, 'and I +shall make it worth your while. You asked me once if I would marry +you. I answer _now_: remove that girl from his path, by fair means or +foul, and I give you my hand as the reward, I, the heiress of +Whitestone Hall.' + +"She knew the temptation was dazzling. For long hours we talked the +matter over. She was to furnish money to send the girl to school, from +which I was shortly to abduct her. She little cared what happened the +little fair-haired creature. Before I had time to carry out the design +fate drifted her into my hands. I rescued her, at the risk of my own +life, from a watery grave. I gave out she was my wife, that the affair +might reach your ears, and you would believe the child willfully +eloped with me. I swear to you no impure thought ever crossed that +child's brain. I gave her a very satisfactory explanation as to why I +had started so false a report. In her innocence--it seemed +plausible--she did not contradict my words. + +"Then you came upon the scene, charging her with the report and +demanding to know the truth. + +"At that moment she saw the affair in its true light. Heaven knows she +was as pure as a spotless lily; but appearances were sadly against the +child, simply because she had not contradicted the report that I had +circulated--that she was my wife. Her lips were dumb at the mere +suspicion you hurled against her, and she could not plead with you for +very horror and amazement. + +"When you left her she was stricken with a fever that was said to have +cost her her life. She disappeared from sight, and it was said she had +thrown herself into the pit. + +"I give you this last and final statement in all truth. I was haunted +day and night by her sad, pitiful face; it almost drove me mad with +remorse, and to ease my mind I had the shaft searched a week ago, and +learned the startling fact--it revealed no trace of her ever having +been there. + +"The shaft does not contain the remains of Daisy Brooks, and I +solemnly affirm (although I have no clew to substantiate the belief) +that Daisy Brooks is not dead, but living, and Pluma Hurlhurst's soul +is not dyed with the blood which she would not have hesitated to shed +to remove an innocent rival from her path. I do not hold myself +guiltless, still the planner of a crime is far more guilty than the +tool who does the work in hope of reward. + +"The heiress of Whitestone Hall has played me false, take to your +heart your fair, blushing bride, but remember hers is a perilous +love." + + * * * * * + +The letter contained much more, explaining each incident in detail, +but Rex had caught at one hope, as a drowning man catches at a straw. + +"Merciful Heaven!" he cried, his heart beating loud and fast. "Was it +not a cruel jest to frighten him on his wedding-eve? Daisy alive! Oh, +just Heaven, if it could only be true!" He drew his breath, with a +long, quivering sigh, at the bare possibility. "Little Daisy was as +pure in thought, word and deed as an angel. God pity me!" he cried. +"Have patience with me for my harshness toward my little love. I did +not give my little love even the chance of explaining the situation," +he groaned. Then his thoughts went back to Pluma. + +He could not doubt the truth of the statement Stanwick offered, and +the absolute proofs of its sincerity. He could not curse her for her +horrible deceit, because his mother had loved her so, and it was done +through her blinding, passionate love for him; and he buried his face +in his hands, and wept bitterly. It was all clear as noonday to him +now why Daisy had not kept the tryst under the magnolia-tree, and the +cottage was empty. She must certainly have attempted to make her +escape from the school in which they placed her to come back to his +arms. + +"Oh, dupe that I have been!" he moaned. "Oh, my sweet little innocent +darling!" he cried. "I dare not hope Heaven has spared you to me!" + +Now he understood why he had felt such a terrible aversion to Pluma +all along. She had separated him from his beautiful, golden-haired +child-bride. + +His eyes rested on the certificate which bore Pluma's name, also his +own. He tore it into a thousand shreds. + +"It is all over between us now," he cried. "Even if Daisy were dead, I +could never take the viper to my bosom that has dealt me such a +death-stinging blow. If living, I shall search the world over till I +find her; if dead, I shall consecrate my life to the memory of my +darling, my pure, little, injured _only_ love." + +He heard a low rap at the door. The servant never forgot the young +man's haggard, hopeless face as he delivered Basil Hurlhurst's +message. + +"Ah, it is better so," cried Rex to himself, vehemently, as the man +silently and wonderingly closed the door. "I will go to him at once, +and tell him I shall never marry his daughter. Heaven help me! I will +tell him all." + +Hastily catching up the letter, Rex walked, with a firm, quick tread, +toward the study, in which the strangest tragedy which was ever +enacted was about to transpire. + + * * * * * + +"I am your mother, Pluma," repeated the woman, slowly. "Look into my +face, and you will see every lineament of your own mirrored there. But +for me you would never have enjoyed the luxuries of Whitestone Hall, +and this is the way you repay me! Is there no natural instinct in your +heart that tells you you are standing in your mother's presence?" + +"Every instinct in my heart tells me you are a vile impostor, woman. I +wonder that you dare intimate such a thing. You are certainly an +escaped lunatic. My mother was lost at sea long years ago." + +"So every one believed. But my very presence here is proof positive +such was not the case." + +Pluma tried to speak, but no sound issued from her white lips. The +very tone of the woman's voice carried positive conviction with it. A +dim realization was stealing over her that this woman's face, and the +peculiar tone of her voice, were strangely mixed up with her childhood +dreams; and, try as she would to scoff at the idea, it seemed to be +gaining strength with every moment. + +"You do not believe me, I see," pursued the woman, calmly. "There is +nothing but the stern facts that will satisfy you. You shall have +them. They are soon told: Years ago, when I was young and fair as you +are now, I lived at the home of a quiet, well-to-do spinster, Taiza +Burt. She had a nephew, an honest, well-to-do young fellow, who +worshiped me, much to the chagrin of his aunt; and out of pique one +day I married him. I did not love the honest-hearted fellow, and I +lived with him but a few brief months. I hated him--yes, hated him, +for I had seen another--young, gay and handsome--whom I might have won +had it not been for the chains which bound me. He was a handsome, +debonair college fellow, as rich as he was handsome. This was Basil +Hurlhurst, the planter's only son and heir. Our meeting was romantic. +I had driven over to the village in which the college was situated, on +an errand for Taiza. Basil met me driving through the park. He was +young, reckless and impulsive. He loved me, and the knowledge of his +wealth dazzled me. I did not tell him I was a wife, and there +commenced my first sin. My extreme youth and ignorance of the world +must plead for me--my husband or the world would never know of it. I +listened to his pleading, and married him--that is, we went through +the ceremony. He had perfect faith in its sincerity. I alone knew the +guilty truth. Yet enormous as was my crime, I had but a dim +realization of it. + +"For one brief week I was dazzled with the wealth and jewels he +lavished upon me; but my conscience would not let me rest when I +thought of my honest-hearted husband, from whom I had fled and whom I +had so cruelly deceived. + +"My love for Basil was short lived; I was too reckless to care much +for any one. My conscience bade me fly from him. I gathered up what +money and jewels I could, and fled. A few months after you were born; +and I swear to you, by the proofs I can bring you, beyond all shadow +of a doubt, you were my lawful husband's child, not Basil's. + +"Soon after this event a daring thought came to me. I could present +you, ere long, with myself, at Whitestone Hall. Basil Hurlhurst would +never know the deception practiced upon him; and you, the child of +humble parentage, should enjoy and inherit his vast wealth. My bold +plan was successful. We had a stormy interview, and it never occurred +to him there could be the least deception--that I was not his lawful +wife, or you his child. + +"I found Basil had learned to despise even more fiercely than he had +ever loved me. + +"He took us abroad, refusing to speak or look upon my face, even +though he escorted us. In a fit of desperation I threw myself into the +sea, but I was rescued by another vessel. A strong inclination seized +me to again visit Whitestone Hall and see what disposition he had made +of you. Years had passed; you were then a child of five years. + +"One terrible stormy night--as bad a night as this one--I made my way +to the Hall. It was brilliantly lighted up, just as it is to-night. + +"I saw the gate was locked; and through the flashes of lightning I saw +a little girl sobbing wildly, flung face downward in the grass, +heedless of the storm. + +"I knew you, and called you to me. I questioned you as to why the +house was lighted, and learned the truth. Basil Hurlhurst had +remarried; he had been abroad with his wife, and to-night he was +bringing home his young wife. + +"My rage knew no bounds. I commanded you to bring me the key of the +gate. You obeyed. That night a little golden-haired child was born at +Whitestone Hall, and I knew it would live to divide the honors and +wealth of Whitestone Hall with you--my child. + +"The thought maddened me. I stole the child from its mother's arms, +and fled. I expected to see the papers full of the terrible deed, or +to hear you had betrayed me, a stranger, wanting the key of the +gate." + +"My surprise knew no bounds when I found it was given out the child +had died, and was buried with its young mother. I never understood why +Basil Hurlhurst did not attempt to recover his child. + +"I took the child far from here, placing it in a basket on the river +brink, with a note pinned to it saying that I, the mother, had sinned +and had sought a watery grave beneath the waves. I screened myself, +and watched to see what would become of the child, as I saw a man's +form approaching in the distance. + +"I fairly caught my breath as he drew near. I saw it was my own +husband, whom I had so cruelly deserted years ago--your father, Pluma, +who never even knew or dreamed of your existence. + +"Carefully he lifted the basket and the sleeping babe. How he came in +that locality I do not know. I found, by some strange freak of fate, +he had taken the child home to his aunt Taiza, and there the little +one remained until the spinster died. + +"Again, a few years later, I determined to visit Whitestone Hall, when +a startling and unexpected surprise presented itself. Since then I +have believed in fate. All unconscious of the strange manner in which +these two men's lives had crossed each other, I found Basil Hurlhurst +had engaged my own husband, and your father, John Brooks, for his +overseer." + +Pluma gave a terrible cry, but the woman did not heed her. + +"I dared not betray my identity then, but fled quickly from Whitestone +Hall; for I knew, if all came to light, it would be proved without a +doubt you were not the heiress of Whitestone Hall. + +"I saw a young girl, blue-eyed and golden-haired, singing like a lark +in the fields. One glance at her face, and I knew she was Basil +Hurlhurst's stolen child fate had brought directly to her father's +home. I questioned her, and she answered she had lived with Taiza +Burt, but her name was Daisy Brooks." + +"It is a lie--a base, ingenious lie!" shrieked Pluma. "Daisy Brooks +the heiress of Whitestone Hall! Even if it were true," she cried, +exultingly, "she will never reign here, the mistress of Whitestone +Hall. She is dead." + +"Not exactly!" cried a ringing voice from the rear; and before the two +women could comprehend the situation, the detective sprung through the +silken curtains, placing his back firmly against the door. "You have +laid a deep scheme, with a cruel vengeance; but your own weapons are +turned against you. Bring your daughter forward, Mr. Hurlhurst. Your +presence is also needed, Mr. Brooks," he called. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +Not a muscle of Pluma Hurlhurst's face quivered, but the woman uttered +a low cry, shrinking close to her side. + +"Save me, Pluma!" she gasped. "I did it for your sake!" + +Basil Hurlhurst slowly put back the curtain, and stepped into the +room, clasping his long-lost daughter to his breast. Daisy's arms were +clinging round his neck, and her golden head rested on his shoulder. +She was sobbing hysterically, John Brooks, deeply affected, following +after. + +Like a stag at bay, the woman's courage seemed to return to her, as +she stood face to face after all those years with the husband whom she +had so cruelly deceived--and the proud-faced man who stood beside +him--whose life she had blighted with the keenest and most cruel blow +of all. + +Basil Hurlhurst was the first to break the ominous silence. + +"It is unnecessary to tell you we have heard all," he said, slowly. "I +shall not seek redress for your double crime. Leave this locality at +once, or I may repent the leniency of my decision. I hold you +guiltless, Pluma," he added, gently. "You are not my child, yet I have +not been wanting in kindness toward you. I shall make every provision +for your future comfort with your father," he said, indicating John +Brooks, who stood pale and trembling at his side. + +"Pluma, my child," cried John Brooks, brokenly, extending his arms. + +But the scornful laugh that fell from her lips froze the blood in his +veins. + +"Your child!" she shrieked, mockingly; "do not dare call me that +again. What care I for your cotton fields, or for Whitestone Hall?" +she cried, proudly, drawing herself up to her full height. "You have +always hated me, Basil Hurlhurst," she cried, turning haughtily toward +him. "This is your triumph! Within the next hour I shall be Rex Lyon's +wife." + +She repeated the words with a clear, ringing laugh, her flaming eyes +fairly scorching poor little Daisy's pale, frightened face. + +"Do you hear me, Daisy Brooks!" she screamed. "You loved Rex Lyon, and +I have won him from you. You can queen it over Whitestone Hall, but I +shall not care. I shall be queen of Rex's heart and home! Mine is a +glorious revenge!" + +She stopped short for want of breath, and Basil Hurlhurst interrupted +her. + +"I have to inform you you are quite mistaken there," he replied, +calmly. "Mr. Rexford Lyon will not marry you to-night, for he is +already married to my little daughter Daisy." He produced the +certificate as he spoke, laying it on the table. "Rex thought her +dead," he continued, simply. "I have sent for him to break the +startling news of Daisy's presence, and I expect him here every +moment." + +"Pluma," cried Daisy, unclasping her arms from her father's neck, and +swiftly crossing over to where her rival stood, beautifully, proudly +defiant, "forgive me for the pain I have caused you unknowingly. I did +not dream I was--an--an--heiress--or that Mr. Hurlhurst was my father. +I don't want you to go away, Pluma, from the luxury that has been +yours; stay and be my sister--share my home." + +"My little tender-hearted angel!" cried Basil Hurlhurst, moved to +tears. + +John Brooks hid his face in his hands. + +For a single instant the eyes of these two girls met--whose lives had +crossed each other so strangely--Daisy's blue eyes soft, tender and +appealing, Pluma's hard, flashing, bitter and scornful. + +She drew herself up to her full height. + +"Remain in your house?" she cried, haughtily, trembling with rage. +"You mistake me, girl: do you think I could see you enjoying the home +that I have believed to be mine--see the man I love better than life +itself lavish caresses upon you--kiss your lips--and bear it calmly? +Live the life of a pauper when I have been led to believe I was an +heiress! Better had I never known wealth than be cast from luxury into +the slums of poverty," she wailed out, sharply. "I shall not touch a +dollar of your money, Basil Hurlhurst. I despise you too much. I have +lived with the trappings of wealth around me--the petted child of +luxury--all in vain--all in vain." + +Basil Hurlhurst was struck with the terrible grandeur of the picture +she made, standing there in her magnificent, scornful pride--a wealth +of jewels flashing on her throat and breast and twined in the long, +sweeping hair that had become loosened and swept in a dark, shining +mass to her slender waist, her flashing eyes far outshining the jewels +upon which the softened gas-light streamed. Not one gleam of remorse +softened her stony face in its cruel, wicked beauty. Her jeweled hand +suddenly crept to the pocket of her dress where she had placed the +vial. + +"Open that door!" she commanded. + +The key fell from her mother's nerveless grasp. The detective quietly +picked it up, placed it in the lock, and opened the door. And just at +that instant, Rex Lyon, with the letter in his hand, reached it. + +Pluma saw him first. + +"Rex!" she cried, in a low, hoarse voice, staggering toward him; but +he recoiled from her, and she saw Stanwick's letter in his hands; and +she knew in an instant all her treachery was revealed; and without +another word--pale as death--but with head proudly erect, she swept +with the dignity of a princess from the scene of her bitter defeat, +closely followed by her cowering mother. + +Rex did not seek to detain her; his eyes had suddenly fallen upon the +golden-haired little figure kneeling by Basil Hurlhurst's chair. + +He reached her side at a single bound. + +"Oh, Daisy, my darling, my darling!" he cried, snatching her in his +arms, and straining her to his breast, as he murmured passionate, +endearing words over her. + +Suddenly he turned to Mr. Hurlhurst. + +"I must explain--" + +"That is quite unnecessary, Rex, my boy," said Mr. Tudor, stepping +forward with tears in his eyes; "Mr. Hurlhurst knows all." + +It never occurred to handsome, impulsive Rex to question what Daisy +was doing there. He only knew Heaven had restored him his beautiful, +idolized child-bride. + +"You will forgive my harshness, won't you, love?" he pleaded. "I will +devote my whole life to blot out the past. Can you learn to love me, +sweetheart, and forget the cloud that drifted between us?" + +A rosy flush suffused the beautiful flower-like face, as Daisy shyly +lifted her radiantly love-lighted blue eyes to his face with a coy +glance that fairly took his breath away for rapturous ecstasy. + +Daisy's golden head nestled closer on his breast, and two little soft, +white arms, whose touch thrilled him through and through, stole round +his neck--that was all the answer she made him. + +John Brooks had quietly withdrawn from the room; and while Basil +Hurlhurst with a proudly glowing face went down among the waiting and +expectant guests to unfold to them the marvelous story, and explain +why the marriage could not take place, the detective briefly +acquainted Rex with the wonderful story. + +"I sought and won you when you were simple little Daisy Brooks, and +now that you are a wealthy heiress in your own right, you must not +love me less." + +Daisy glanced up into her handsome young husband's face as she +whispered, softly: + +"Nothing can ever change my love, Rex, unless it is to love you more +and more." + +And for answer Rex clasped the little fairy still closer in his arms, +kissing the rosy mouth over and over again, as he laughingly replied +he was more fortunate than most fellows, being lover and husband all +in one. + +The announcement created an intense _furor_ among the fluttering +maidens down in the spacious parlors. Nobody regretted Pluma's +downfall, although Basil Hurlhurst carefully kept that part of the +narrative back. + +"Oh, it is just like a romance," cried Eve Glenn, rapturously; "but +still we must not be disappointed, girls; we must have a wedding all +the same. Rex and Daisy must be married over again." + +Every one was on the tiptoe of expectancy to see the beautiful little +heroine of a double romance. + +Eve Glenn, followed by Birdie, found her out at once in the study. + +"Oh, you darling!" cried Eve, laughing and crying in one breath, as +she hugged and kissed Daisy rapturously; "and just to think you were +married all the time, and to Rex, too; above all other fellows in the +world, he was just the one I had picked out for you." + +Rex was loath to let Daisy leave him even for a moment. Eve was firm. + +"I shall take her to my room and convert her in no time at all into a +veritable Cinderella." + +"She is the pretty young girl that carried me from the stone wall, and +I have loved her so much ever since, even if I couldn't remember her +name," cried Birdie, clapping her hands in the greatest glee. + +In the din of the excitement, Pluma Hurlhurst shook the dust of +Whitestone Hall forever from her feet, muttering maledictions at the +happy occupants. She had taken good care to secure all the valuables +that she could lay her hands on, which were quite a fortune in +themselves, securing her from want for life. She was never heard from +more. + + * * * * * + +Eve Glenn took Daisy to her own room, and there the wonderful +transformation began. She dressed Daisy in her own white satin dress, +and twined deep crimson passion-roses in the golden curls, clapping +her hands--at Daisy's wondrous beauty--kissing her, and petting her by +turns. + +"There never was such a little fairy of a bride!" she cried, +exultantly leading Daisy to the mirror. "True, you haven't any +diamonds, and I haven't any to loan you; but who would miss such +trifles, gazing at such a bewitching, blushing face and eyes bright as +stars? Oh, won't every one envy Rex, though!" + +"Please don't, Eve," cried Daisy. "I'm so happy, and you are trying to +make me vain." + +A few moments later there was a great hush in the vast parlors below, +as Daisy entered the room, leaning tremblingly on Rex's arm, who +looked as happy as a king, and Basil Hurlhurst, looking fully ten +years younger than was his wont, walking proudly beside his long-lost +daughter. + +The storm had died away, and the moon broke through the dark clouds, +lighting the earth with a silvery radiance, as Rex and Daisy took +their places before the altar, where the ceremony which made them man +and wife was for the second time performed. + +Heaven's light never fell on two such supremely happy mortals as were +Rex and his bonny blushing bride. + +Outside of Whitestone Hall a motley throng was gathering with the +rapidity of lightning--the story had gone from lip to lip--the +wonderful story of the long-lost heiress and the double romance. + +Cheer after cheer rent the air, and telegraph wires were busy with the +startling revelations. + +The throng around the Hall pressed forward to catch a glimpse of the +pretty little bride. Young girls laughed and cried for very joy. +Mothers, fathers, and sweethearts fervently cried: "God bless her!" + +All night long the bells rang from the church belfries, bonfires were +lighted on all the surrounding hills. A telegram was sent to a +Baltimore marble firm countermanding a certain order. + +All night long the young people danced to the chime of merry music, +and all night long the joy-bells pealed from the turrets of Whitestone +Hall, and they seemed to echo the chorus of the people. "God bless +sweet little Daisy Lyon, the long-lost heiress of Whitestone Hall!" + +THE END + + + + +LAURA JEAN LIBBEY'S BOOKS + +BOUND IN CLOTH. + +If you like to read fascinating love stories we are sure you will want +to read this popular author's writings, and call your special attention +to the following list of her best books. + +THE ALPHABET OF LOVE.--A thrilling romance portraying the strange +adventures of a beautiful young girl. + +A BEAUTIFUL COQUETTE.--Sought by many but finally won by a strong, +masterful love. + +THE CRIME OF HALLOW E'EN.--Surrounded with the mysticism of that +occasion, relating the adventures of the Heiress of Graystone Hall. + +DAISY BROOKS.--The story of a perilous love. + +DAISY GORDON'S FOLLY.--The world lost for love's sake. Concealment of +her love affairs wrought great havoc. + +DORA MILLER.--"There's nothing half so sweet in life as love's young +dream." + +FLIRTATIONS OF A BEAUTY.--A fascinating story of a lovely belle's summer +romance at Newport. + +A FORBIDDEN MARRIAGE.--And what followed a mother's statement to her +daughter's lover: "I would rather see my daughter dead than give her to +you." + +GILBERTA THE BEAUTY.--A romance of a girls' fashionable boarding-school. + +HE LOVED, BUT WAS LURED AWAY.--In love and war the _occasion_ is +everything, but when true love enters the heart it conquers. + +JUNIE'S LOVE TEST.--Sorely tried and deceived by circumstances, even to +the extent of divorce proceedings, intense and whole-hearted love is +finally rewarded. + +LITTLE LEAFY.--The cloakmaker's beautiful daughter. A romantic story of +a lovely working girl in the City of New York. + +LITTLE ROSEBUD'S LOVERS.--A South Carolina story of a cruel revenge. + +The above books contain 200 to 300 pages each, printed on best grade +antique wove book paper, with beautiful lithograph inlay in 10 colors, +and will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price 50 cents, or +any 3 books for $1.00. Ask your dealer for them, or send your order +direct to us. + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +57 Rose Street, New York. + + + + +LAURA JEAN LIBBEY'S BOOKS + +BOUND IN CLOTH + +If you like to read fascinating love stories we are sure you will want +to read this popular author's writings, and call your special attention +to the following list of her best books. + +LITTLE ROMP EDDA.--A story of the great World's Fair at Chicago, and +what befell a mischievous maid. + +LYNDALL'S TEMPTATION; Or, Blinded by Love.--A story of fashionable +life at Lenox. To Love and Be Loved is the Grand Dream of Life.--The +Hand of Fate.--What Might Have Been.--I Must Forget You, Dear.--The +Tragedy.--Who is Guilty? Do You Regret the Past? + +A MASTER WORKMAN'S OATH; Or, Coralie the Unfortunate.--A love story +portraying the life, romance and strange fate of a beautiful New York +working girl. Love at First Sight.--A Marriage In Haste.--To Learn to +Forget Will Be Bitter.--The Abduction.--Fate Marks Her Destiny.--The +Rival Lovers. + +MISS MIDDLETON'S LOVER; Or, Parted on Her Bridal Tour. A story of +London. The Banker's Niece.--It Would Have Been Better Had She +Died.--A Convict's Bride.--Fate Settles the Matter.--The Serpent +Enters the Garden of Eden.--The Price of My Lady's Secret.--A Great +Temptation.--I Would Not Forgive Her.--Without Love the World is a +Desert. + +PRETTY FREDA'S LOVERS; Or, Married by Mistake.--A thrilling romance of +a beautiful young school girl. The Spoiled Darling.--Mad Folly.--My +Promised Bride.--Freda's Fate.--The Quarrel.--The Smoke of +Scandal.--The Elopement.--Forgotten.--Humbled.--Freda's Test and +Flight.--Learned to Love Me at Last. + +WHEN HIS LOVE GREW COLD.--A love story full of trials and struggles of +lover and loved one. + +WILLFUL GAYNELL.--A romantic story of the life and love of a lovely +working girl. A Rescue.--The Grand Ball.--The Duel.--The Heiress.--An +Abduction.--Defiance.--A Thrilling Adventure.--Vengeance.--Temptation.-- +Gay Decides Her Fate.--The Rivals Meet.--Would You Break Our Betrothal?-- +Gay Found at Last. + +The above books contain 200 to 300 pages each, printed on best grade +antique wove book paper, with beautiful lithograph inlay in 10 colors, +and will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price 50 cents, or +any 3 books for $1.00. Ask your dealer for them, or send your order +direct to us. + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +57 Rose Street, New York. + + + + +THE BIG NOISE! 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The book contains 130 songs besides +the ones mentioned here and would cost $50 in sheet music form. + + Annie Laurie. + Auld Lang Syne. + Angel's Whisper, The. + Black Eyed Susan. + Billy Boy. + Baby Mine. + Bell Brandon. + Bonnie Dundee. + Ben Bolt. + Bingen on the Rhine. + Comrades. + Comin' Thro' the Rye. + Caller Herrin'. + Do They Miss Me at Home? + Don't You Go, Tommy. + Flee as a Bird. + In the Gloaming. + John Anderson, My Joe. + Katie's Letter. + Little Annie Rooney. + Larboard Watch. + Life on the Ocean Wave, A. + Low Backed Car, The. + Mollie, Put the Kettle On. + Meet Me by Moonlight. + Nancy Lee. + O, Boys Carry Me 'Long. + Oh! Susannah. + Our Flag is There. + O Had I Wings Like a Dove. + Old Oaken Bucket, The. + O Come, Come Away. + Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep. + Rock Me to Sleep, Mother. + Sparkling and Bright. + There was an Old Woman. + 'Tis the Last Rose of Summer. + Willie, We Have Missed You. + Wait for the Wagon. + Oh Dear! What Can the Matter be. + Oh Why do you Tease Me. + Oh, Would I Were a Bird. + Oh, Would I Were a Boy Again. + Over the Garden Wall. + Pilgrim Fathers, The. + Pat Malloy. + Pauper's Drive, The. + Paddle Your Own Canoe. + Robin Adair. + Robinson Crusoe. + Rose of Allandale. + Star Spangled Banner, The. + Saint Patrick Was a Gentleman. + See Saw, Margery Daw. + Sing a Song of Sixpence. + See, the Conquering Hero Comes. + Stop Dat Knockin'. + Sally in Our Alley. + Scots, What Ha'e Wi' Wallace Bled. + Sword of Bunker Hill, The. + Spider and the Fly, The. + Shells of Ocean. + Steal Away. + Take Back the Heart. + Three Fishers Went Sailing. + Ten Little Niggers. + 'Tis the Last Rose of Summer. + Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-De-Ay. + Thou Art Gone From My Gaze. + There is a Green Hill far Away. + There was a Jolly Miller. + +This book of 176 pages containing the above entire list of songs and +many others, _words and music_, will be sent by mail postpaid upon +receipt of price. Paper Cover, 25 cents. Address all orders to + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING CO., 57 Rose Street, New York. + + + + +OLD WITCHES' DREAM BOOK + +AND + +COMPLETE FORTUNE TELLER. + +You dream like everyone else does, but can you interpret them--do you +understand what your dream portends? If you wish to know what it +means, you should buy this book, which contains the full and correct +interpretation of all dreams and their lucky numbers. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Daisy Brooks</p> +<p> A Perilous Love</p> +<p>Author: Laura Jean Libbey</p> +<p>Release Date: September 30, 2009 [eBook #30137]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY BROOKS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div style='margin:10px auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='cover' src='images/daisy-cvr.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;font-size:2.6em;margin-top:20px;font-variant:small-caps;'>Daisy Brooks;</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;'>OR,</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-bottom:40px;'>A PERILOUS LOVE.</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;'>BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-bottom:20px;'>LAURA JEAN LIBBEY,</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:10px;font-size:smaller;'>AUTHOR OF</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;'>“Parted on Her Bridal Tour,” or “Miss Middleton’s Lover,”<br /> +“When His Love Grew Cold,” “He Loved, But Was<br /> +Lured Away,” “When Lovely Maiden Stoops<br /> +to Folly,” “The Crime of Hallow E’en,”<br /> +“Lovers Once, But Strangers<br /> +Now,” Etc., Etc.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class='tp' ><span class='smcap'>Copyright</span> 1883, <span class='smcap'>by George Munro</span>.</p> +<hr class='p30' /> +<p class='tp' ><span class='smcap'>Copyright</span> 1911, <span class='smcap'>by<br /> +J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company</span>.</p> +<hr class='p30' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;'>Dramatic Rights Reserved by<br /> +<span class='smcap'>Laura Jean Libbey-Stillwell</span>.</p> +<p class='tp' ><span class='smcap'>New York</span>:</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:larger;'>J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;'>57 <span class='smcap'>Rose Street</span>.</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span></div> +<h1>DAISY BROOKS.</h1> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I' id='CHAPTER_I'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> +</div> +<p>A warm day in the southern part of West Virginia was fast +drawing to a close; the heat during the day had been almost +intolerable under the rays of the piercing sun, and the night +was coming on in sullen sultriness. No breath of cooling air +stirred the leafy branches of the trees; the stillness was broken +only by the chirping of the crickets, and the fire-flies twinkled +for a moment, and were then lost to sight in the long grasses.</p> +<p>On one of the most prosperous plantations in that section of +the country there was a great stir of excitement; the master, +Basil Hurlhurst, was momentarily expected home with his +bride. The negroes in their best attire were scattered in anxious +groups here and there, watching eagerly for the first approach +of their master’s carriage on the white pebbled road.</p> +<p>The curtains of Whitestone Hall were looped back, and a +cheerful flood of light shone out on the waving cotton fields +that stretched out as far as the eye could reach, like a field of +snow. The last touches had been given to the pillars of roses +that filled every available nook and corner, making the summer +air redolent with their odorous perfumes. Mrs. Corliss, +who had maintained the position of housekeeper for a score of +years or more, stood at the window twisting the telegram she +held in her hand with ill-concealed impatience. The announcement +of this home-coming had been as unexpected as the news +of his marriage had been quite a year before.</p> +<p>“Let there be no guests assembled––my reasons will be +made apparent to you later on,” so read the telegram, which +puzzled the housekeeper more than she cared to admit to the +inquisitive maid, who stood near her, curiously watching her +thoughtful face.</p> +<p>“’Pears to me it will rain afore they get here, Hagar,” she +said, nervously, and, as if in confirmation of her words, a few +rain-drops splashed against the window-pane.</p> +<p>Both stood gazing intently out into the darkness. The +storm had now commenced in earnest. The great trees bent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +to and fro like reeds before the wind; the lightning flashed, +and the terrific crash of roaring thunder mingled with the +torrent of rain that beat furiously against the casement. It +seemed as if the very flood-gates of heaven were flung open +wide on this memorable night of the master’s return.</p> +<p>“It is a fearful night. Ah! happy is the bride upon whose +home-coming the sunlight falls,” muttered Mrs. Corliss under +her breath.</p> +<p>Hagar had caught the low-spoken words, and in a voice that +sounded strange and weird like a warning, she answered:</p> +<p>“Yes, and unhappy is the bride upon whose home-coming +rain-drops fall.”</p> +<p>How little they knew, as they stood there, of the terrible +tragedy––the cruelest ever enacted––those grim, silent walls of +Whitestone Hall were soon to witness, in fulfillment of the +strange prophecy. Hagar, the maid, had scarcely ceased +speaking ere the door was flung violently open, and a child of +some five summers rushed into the room, her face livid with +passion, and her dark, gleaming eyes shining like baneful +stars, before which the two women involuntarily quailed.</p> +<p>“What is this I hear?” she cried, with wild energy, glancing +fiercely from the one to the other. “Is it true what they +tell me––my father is bringing home his bride?”</p> +<p>“Pluma, my child,” remonstrated Mrs. Corliss, feebly, +“I––”</p> +<p>“Don’t Pluma me!” retorted the child, clutching the deep +crimson passion-roses from a vase at her side, and trampling +them ruthlessly beneath her feet. “Answer me at once, I +say––has he <i>dared</i> do it?”</p> +<p>“P-l-u-m-a!” Mrs. Corliss advances toward her, but the +child turns her darkly beautiful, willful face toward her with +an imperious gesture.</p> +<p>“Do not come a step nearer,” cried the child, bitterly, “or +I shall fling myself from the window down on to the rocks +below. I shall never welcome my father’s wife here; and +mark me, both of you, I hate her!” she cried, vehemently. +“She shall rue the day that she was born!”</p> +<p>Mrs. Corliss knew but too well the child would keep her word. +No power, save God, could stay the turbulent current of the +ungovernable self-will which would drag her on to her doom. +No human being could hold in subjection the fierce, untamed +will of the beautiful, youthful tyrant.</p> +<p>There had been strange rumors of the unhappiness of Basil +Hurlhurst’s former marriage. No one remembered having +seen her but once, quite five years before. A beautiful woman +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +with a little babe had suddenly appeared at Whitestone Hall, +announcing herself as Basil Hurlhurst’s wife. There had been +a fierce, stormy interview, and on that very night Basil Hurlhurst +took his wife and child abroad; those who had once seen +the dark, glorious, scornful beauty of the woman’s face never +forgot it. Two years later the master had returned alone with +the little child, heavily draped in widower’s weeds.</p> +<p>The master of Whitestone Hall was young; those who knew +his story were not surprised that he should marry––he could +not go through life alone; still they felt a nameless pity for +the young wife who was to be brought to the home in which +dwelt the child of his former wife.</p> +<p>There would be bitter war to the end between them. No +one could tell on which side the scales of mercy and justice +would be balanced.</p> +<p>At that instant, through the raging of the fierce elements, +the sound of carriage wheels smote upon their ears as the +vehicle dashed rapidly up the long avenue to the porch; +while, in another instant, the young master, half carrying +the slight, delicate figure that clung timidly to his arm, hurriedly +entered the spacious parlor. There was a short consultation +with the housekeeper, and Basil Hurlhurst, tenderly +lifting the slight burden in his strong, powerful arms, quickly +bore his wife to the beautiful apartments that had been prepared +for her.</p> +<p>In the excitement of the moment Pluma was quite forgotten; +for an instant only she glanced bitterly at the sweet, +fair face resting against her father’s shoulder, framed in a +mass of golden hair. The child clinched her small hands until +she almost cried aloud with the intense pain, never once deigning +a glance at her father’s face. In that one instant the evil +seeds of a lifetime were sown strong as life and more bitter +than death.</p> +<p>Turning hastily aside she sprung hurriedly down the long +corridor, and out into the darkness and the storm, never +stopping to gain breath until she had quite reached the +huge ponderous gate that shut in the garden from the dense +thicket that skirted the southern portion of the plantation. +She laughed a hard, mocking laugh that sounded unnatural +from such childish lips, as she saw a white hand hurriedly +loop back the silken curtains of her father’s window, and saw +him bend tenderly over the golden-haired figure in the arm-chair. +Suddenly the sound of her own name fell upon her ear.</p> +<p>“Pluma,” whispered a low, cautious voice; and in the quick +flashes of lightning she saw a white, haggard woman’s face +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +pressed close against the grating, and two white hands were +steadily forcing the rusty lock. There was no fear in the +fiery, rebellious heart of the dauntless child.</p> +<p>“Go away, you miserable beggar-woman,” she cried, “or +I shall set the hounds on you at once. Do you hear me, I +say?”</p> +<p>“Who are you?” questioned the woman, in the same low, +guarded voice.</p> +<p>The child threw her head back proudly, her voice rising +shrilly above the wild warring of the elements, as she answered:</p> +<p>“Know, then, I am Pluma, the heiress of Whitestone Hall.”</p> +<p>The child formed a strange picture––her dark, wild face, so +strangely like the mysterious woman’s own, standing vividly +out against the crimson lightning flashes, her dark curls blown +about the gypsy-like face, the red lips curling scornfully, her +dark eyes gleaming.</p> +<p>“Pluma,” called the woman, softly, “come here.”</p> +<p>“How dare <i>you</i>, a beggar-woman, call me!” cried the child, +furiously.</p> +<p>“Pluma––come––here––instantly!”</p> +<p>There was a subtle something in the stranger’s voice that +throbbed through the child’s pulses like leaping fire––a +strange, mysterious influence that bound her, heart and soul, +like the mesmeric influence a serpent exerts over a fascinated +dove. Slowly, hesitatingly, this child, whose fiery will had +never bowed before human power, came timidly forward, step +by step, close to the iron gate against which the woman’s face +was pressed. She stretched out her hand, and it rested for a +moment on the child’s dark curls.</p> +<p>“Pluma, the gate is locked,” she said. “Do you know +where the keys are?”</p> +<p>“No,” answered the child.</p> +<p>“They used to hang behind the pantry door––a great bunch +of them. Don’t they hang there now?”</p> +<p>“Ye––es.”</p> +<p>“I thought so,” muttered the woman, triumphantly. +“Now, listen, Pluma; I want you to do exactly as I bid you. +I want you to go quickly and quietly, and bring me the longest +and thinnest one. You are not to breathe one word of this to +any living soul. Do you understand, Pluma––I command you +to do it.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered the child, dubiously.</p> +<p>“Stay!” she called, as the child was about to turn from +her. “Why is the house lighted up to-night?”</p> +<p>Again the reckless spirit of the child flashed forth.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></div> +<p>“My father has brought home his bride,” she said. “Don’t +you see him bending over her, toward the third window yonder?”</p> +<p>The woman’s eyes quickly followed in the direction indicated.</p> +<p>Was it a curse the woman muttered as she watched the fair, +golden-haired young girl-wife’s head resting against Basil +Hurlhurst’s breast, his arms clasped lovingly about her?</p> +<p>“Go, Pluma!” she commanded, bitterly.</p> +<p>Quickly and cautiously the child sped on her fatal errand +through the storm and the darkness. A moment later she +had returned with the key which was to unlock a world of +misery to so many lives.</p> +<p>“Promise me, Pluma, heiress of Whitestone Hall, never to +tell what you have done or seen or heard to-night. You must +never dare breathe it while you live. Say you will never tell, +Pluma.”</p> +<p>“No,” cried the child, “I shall never tell. They might +kill me, but I would never tell them.”</p> +<p>The next moment she was alone. Stunned and bewildered, +she turned her face slowly toward the house. The storm did +not abate in its fury; night-birds flapped their wings through +the storm overhead; owls shrieked in the distance from the +swaying tree-tops; yet the child walked slowly home, knowing +no fear. In the house lights were moving to and fro, while +servants, with bated breath and light footfalls, hurried through +the long corridors toward her father’s room. No one seemed +to notice Pluma, in her dripping robe, creeping slowly along +by their side toward her own little chamber.</p> +<p>It was quite midnight when her father sent for her. Pluma +suffered him to kiss her, giving back no answering caress.</p> +<p>“I have brought some one else to you, my darling,” he +said. “See, Pluma––a new mamma! And see who else––a +wee, dimpled little sister, with golden hair like mamma’s, +and great blue eyes. Little Evalia is your sister, dear. +Pluma must love her new mamma and sister for papa’s sake.”</p> +<p>The dark frown on the child’s face never relaxed, and, with +an impatient gesture, her father ordered her taken at once +from the room.</p> +<p>Suddenly the great bells of Whitestone Hall ceased pealing +for the joyous birth of Basil Hurlhurst’s daughter, and bitter +cries of a strong man in mortal anguish rent the air. No one +had noticed how or when the sweet, golden-haired young wife +had died. With a smile on her lips, she was dead, with her +tiny little darling pressed close to her pulseless heart.</p> +<p>But sorrow even as pitiful as death but rarely travels singly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +Dear Heaven! how could they tell the broken-hearted man, +who wept in such agony beside the wife he had loved so well, +of another mighty sorrow that had fallen upon him? Who +was there that could break the news to him? The tiny, fair-haired +infant had been stolen from their midst. They would +have thanked God if it had been lying cold in death upon its +mother’s bosom.</p> +<p>Slowly throughout the long night––that terrible night that +was never to be forgotten––the solemn bells pealed forth from +the turrets of Whitestone Hall, echoing in their sound: “Unhappy +is the bride the rain falls on.” Most truly had been +the fulfillment of the fearful prophecy!</p> +<p>“Merciful God!” cried Mrs. Corliss, “how shall I break +the news to my master? The sweet little babe is gone!”</p> +<p>For answer Hagar bent quickly over her, and breathed a +few words in her ear that caused her to cry out in horror and +amaze.</p> +<p>“No one will ever know,” whispered Hagar; “it is the +wisest course. The truth will lie buried in our own hearts, +and die with us.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Six weeks from the night his golden-haired wife had died +Basil Hurlhurst awoke to consciousness from the ravages of +brain-fever––awoke to a life not worth the living. Quickly +Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was sent for, who soon entered +the room, leaning upon Hagar’s arm.</p> +<p>“My wife is––” He could not say more.</p> +<p>“Buried, sir, beneath yonder willow.”</p> +<p>“And the babe?” he cried, eagerly. “Dead,” answered +Hagar, softly. “Both are buried in one grave.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst turned his face to the wall, with a bitter +groan.</p> +<p>Heaven forgive them––the seeds of the bitterest of tragedies +were irrevocably sown.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_II' id='CHAPTER_II'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> +</div> +<p>One bright May morning some sixteen years later, the +golden sunshine was just putting forth its first crimson rays, +lighting up the ivy-grown turrets of Whitestone Hall, and +shining upon a little white cottage nestling in a bower of green +leaves far to the right of it, where dwelt John Brooks, the +overseer of the Hurlhurst plantation.</p> +<p>For sixteen years the grand old house had remained closed––the +plantation being placed in charge of a careful overseer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +Once again Whitestone Hall was thrown open to welcome the +master, Basil Hurlhurst, who had returned from abroad, +bringing with him his beautiful daughter and a party of +friends.</p> +<p>The interior of the little cottage was astir with bustling +activity.</p> +<p>It was five o’clock; the chimes had played the hour; the +laborers were going to the fields, and the dairy-maids were +beginning their work.</p> +<p>In the door-way of the cottage stood a tall, angular woman, +shading her flushed and heated face from the sun’s rays with +her hand.</p> +<p>“Daisy, Daisy!” she calls, in a harsh, rasping voice, +“where are you, you good-for-nothing lazy girl? Come +into the house directly, I say.” Her voice died away +over the white stretches of waving cotton, but no Daisy came. +“Here’s a pretty go,” she cried, turning into the room where +her brother sat calmly finishing his morning meal, “a pretty +go, indeed! I promised Miss Pluma those white mulls should +be sent over to her the first thing in the morning. She will be +in a towering rage, and no wonder, and like enough you’ll +lose your place, John Brooks, and ’twill serve you right, too, +for encouraging that lazy girl in her idleness.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be too hard on little Daisy, Septima,” answered +John Brooks, timidly, reaching for his hat. “She will have +the dresses at the Hall in good time, I’ll warrant.”</p> +<p>“Too hard, indeed; that’s just like you men; no feeling for +your poor, overworked sister, so long as that girl has an easy +life of it. It was a sorry day for <i>me</i> when your aunt Taiza +died, leaving this girl to our care.”</p> +<p>A deep flush mantled John Brooks’ face, but he made no +retort, while Septima energetically piled the white fluted laces +in the huge basket––piled it full to the brim, until her arm +ached with the weight of it––the basket which was to play such +a fatal part in the truant Daisy’s life––the life which for sixteen +short years had been so monotonous.</p> +<p>Over the corn-fields half hid by the clover came a young girl +tripping lightly along. John Brooks paused in the path as he +caught sight of her. “Poor, innocent little Daisy!” he muttered +half under his breath, as he gazed at her quite unseen.</p> +<p>Transferred to canvas, it would have immortalized a painter. +No wonder the man’s heart softened as he gazed. He saw a +glitter of golden curls, and the scarlet gleam of a mantle––a +young girl, tall and slender, with rounded, supple limbs, and +a figure graceful in every line and curve––while her arms, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +bare to the elbow, would have charmed a sculptor. Cheek +and lips were a glowing rosy red––while her eyes, of the deepest +and darkest blue, were the merriest that ever gazed up to +the summer sunshine.</p> +<p>Suddenly from over the trees there came the sound of the +great bell at the Hall. Daisy stood quite still in alarm.</p> +<p>“It is five o’clock!” she cried. “What shall I do? Aunt +Septima will be so angry with me; she promised Miss Pluma +her white dresses should be at the Hall by five, and it is that +already.”</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy! no wonder her heart throbbed painfully +and the look of fear deepened in her blue eyes as she sped +rapidly up the path that led to the little cottage where Septima +grimly awaited her with flushed face and flashing eyes.</p> +<p>“So,” she said, harshly, “you are come at last, are you? +and a pretty fright you have given me. You shall answer to +Miss Pluma <i>herself</i> for this. I dare say you will never attempt +to offend her a second time.”</p> +<p>“Indeed, Aunt Septima, I never dreamed it was so late,” +cried conscious Daisy. “I was watching the sun rise over the +cotton-fields, and watching the dewdrops glittering on the +corn, thinking of the beautiful heiress of Whitestone Hall. I +am so sorry I forgot about the dresses.”</p> +<p>Hastily catching up the heavy basket, she hurried quickly +down the path, like a startled deer, to escape the volley of +wrath the indignant spinster hurled after her.</p> +<p>It was a beautiful morning; no cloud was in the smiling +heavens; the sun shone brightly, and the great oak and cedar-trees +that skirted the roadside seemed to thrill with the song +of birds. Butterflies spread their light wings and coquetted +with the fragrant blossoms, and busy humming-bees buried +themselves in the heart of the crimson wild rose. The basket +was very heavy, and poor little Daisy’s hands ached with the +weight of it.</p> +<p>“If I might but rest for a few moments only,” she said to +herself, eying the cool, shady grass by the roadside. “Surely +a moment or two will not matter. Oh, dear, I am so tired!”</p> +<p>She set the basket down on the cool, green grass, flinging +herself beside it beneath the grateful shade of a blossoming +magnolia-tree, resting her golden head against the basket of +filmy laces that were to adorn the beautiful heiress of whom +she had heard so much, yet never seen, and of whom every +one felt in such awe.</p> +<p>She looked wistfully at the great mansion in the distance, +thinking how differently her own life had been.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></div> +<p>The soft, wooing breeze fanned her cheeks, tossing about +her golden curls in wanton sport. It was so pleasant to sit +there in the dreamy silence watching the white fleecy clouds, +the birds, and the flowers, it was little wonder the swift-winged +moments flew heedlessly by. Slowly the white lids +drooped over the light-blue eyes, the long, golden lashes lay +against the rosy cheeks, the ripe lips parted in a smile––all +unheeded were the fluted laces––Daisy slept. Oh, cruel breeze––oh, +fatal wooing breeze to have infolded hapless Daisy in +your soft embrace!</p> +<p>Over the hills came the sound of baying hounds, followed +by a quick, springy step through the crackling underbrush, +as a young man in close-fitting velvet hunting-suit and jaunty +velvet cap emerged from the thicket toward the main road.</p> +<p>As he parted the magnolia branches the hound sprang +quickly forward at some object beneath the tree, with a low, +hoarse growl.</p> +<p>“Down, Towser, down!” cried Rex Lyon, leaping lightly +over some intervening brushwood. “What kind of game have +we here? Whew!” he ejaculated, surprisedly; “a young girl, +pretty as a picture, and, by the eternal, fast asleep, too!”</p> +<p>Still Daisy slept on, utterly unconscious of the handsome +brown eyes that were regarding her so admiringly.</p> +<p>“I have often heard of fairies, but this is the first time I +have ever caught one napping under the trees. I wonder who +she is anyhow? Surely she can not be some drudging farmer’s +daughter with a form and face like that?” he mused, suspiciously +eying the basket of freshly laundered laces against +which the flushed cheeks and waving golden hair rested.</p> +<p>Just then his ludicrous position struck him forcibly.</p> +<p>“Come, Towser,” he said, “it would never do for you and +me to be caught staring at this pretty wood-nymph so rudely, +if she should by chance awaken just now.”</p> +<p>Tightening the strap of his game-bag over his shoulder, and +readjusting his velvet cap jauntily over his brown curls, Rex +was about to resume his journey in the direction of Whitestone +Hall, when the sound of rapidly approaching carriage-wheels +fell upon his ears. Realizing his awkward position, Rex knew +the wisest course he could possibly pursue would be to screen +himself behind the magnolia branches until the vehicle should +pass. The next instant a pair of prancing ponies, attached to +a basket phaeton, in which sat a young girl, who held them +well in check, dashed rapidly up the road. Rex could scarcely +repress an exclamation of surprise as he saw the occupant was +his young hostess, Pluma Hurlhurst of Whitestone Hall. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +drew rein directly in front of the sleeping girl, and Rex Lyon +never forgot, to his dying day, the discordant laugh that broke +from her red lips––a laugh which caused poor Daisy to start +from her slumber in wild alarm, scattering the snowy contents +of the basket in all directions.</p> +<p>For a single instant their eyes met––these two girls, whose +lives were to cross each other so strangely––poor Daisy, like a +frightened bird, as she guessed intuitively at the identity of +the other; Pluma, haughty, derisive, and scornfully mocking.</p> +<p>“You are the person whom Miss Brooks sent to Whitestone +Hall with my mull dresses some three hours since, I presume. +May I ask what detained you?”</p> +<p>Poor Daisy was quite crestfallen; great tear-drops trembled +on her long lashes. How could she answer? She had fallen +asleep, wooed by the lulling breeze and the sunshine.</p> +<p>“The basket was so heavy,” she answered, timidly, “and +I––I––sat down to rest a few moments, and––”</p> +<p>“Further explanation is quite unnecessary,” retorted +Pluma, sharply, gathering up the reins. “See that you have +those things at the Hall within ten minutes; not an instant +later.”</p> +<p>Touching the prancing ponies with her ivory-handled whip, +the haughty young heiress whirled leisurely down the road, +leaving Daisy, with flushed face and tear-dimmed eyes, gazing +after her.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, I wish I had never been born,” she sobbed, +flinging herself down on her knees, and burying her face in +the long, cool grass. “No one ever speaks a kind word to me +but poor old Uncle John, and even he dare not be kind when +Aunt Septima is near. She might have taken this heavy +basket in her carriage,” sighed Daisy, bravely lifting the +heavy burden in her delicate arms.</p> +<p>“That is just what I think,” muttered Rex Lyon from his +place of concealment, savagely biting his lip.</p> +<p>In another moment he was by her side.</p> +<p>“Pardon me,” he said, deferentially raising his cap from +his glossy curls, “that basket is too heavy for your slender +arms. Allow me to assist you.”</p> +<p>In a moment the young girl stood up, and made the prettiest +and most graceful of courtesies as she raised to his a face he +never forgot. Involuntarily he raised his cap again in homage +to her youth, and her shy sweet beauty.</p> +<p>“No; I thank you, sir, I have not far to carry the basket,” +she replied, in a voice sweet as the chiming of silver bells––a +voice that thrilled him, he could not tell why.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></div> +<p>A sudden desire possessed Rex to know who she was and +from whence she came.</p> +<p>“Do you live at the Hall?” he asked.</p> +<p>“No,” she replied, “I am Daisy Brooks, the overseer’s +niece.”</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks,” said Rex, musingly. “What a pretty +name! how well it suits you!”</p> +<p>He watched the crimson blushes that dyed her fair young +face––she never once raised her dark-blue eyes to his. The +more Rex looked at her the more he admired this coy, bewitching, +pretty little maiden. She made a fair picture under +the boughs of the magnolia-tree, thick with odorous pink-and-white +tinted blossoms, the sunbeams falling on her golden +hair.</p> +<p>The sunshine or the gentle southern wind brought Rex no +warning he was forging the first links of a dreadful tragedy. +He thought only of the shy blushing beauty and coy grace of +the young girl––he never dreamed of the hour when he should +look back to that moment, wondering at his own blind folly, +with a curse on his lips.</p> +<p>Again from over the trees came the sound of the great bell +from the Hall.</p> +<p>“It is eight o’clock,” cried Daisy, in alarm. “Miss Pluma +will be so angry with me.”</p> +<p>“Angry!” said Rex; “angry with you! For what?”</p> +<p>“She is waiting for the mull dresses,” replied Daisy.</p> +<p>It was a strange idea to him that any one should dare be +angry with this pretty gentle Daisy.</p> +<p>“You will at least permit me to carry your basket as far as +the gate,” he said, shouldering her burden without waiting for +a reply. Daisy had no choice but to follow him. “There,” +said Rex, setting the basket down by the plantation gate, +which they had reached all too soon, “you must go, I suppose. +It seems hard to leave the bright sunshine to go indoors.”</p> +<p>“I––I shall soon return,” said Daisy, with innocent frankness.</p> +<p>“Shall you?” cried Rex. “Will you return home by the +same path?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, “if Miss Pluma does not need me.”</p> +<p>“Good-bye, Daisy,” he said. “I shall see you again.”</p> +<p>He held out his hand and her little fingers trembled and +fluttered in his clasp. Daisy looked so happy yet so frightened, +so charming yet so shy, Rex hardly knew how to define +the feeling that stirred in his heart.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></div> +<p>He watched the graceful, fairy figure as Daisy tripped away––instead +of thinking he had done a very foolish thing that +bright morning. Rex lighted a cigar and fell to dreaming of +sweet little Daisy Brooks, and wondering how he should pass +the time until he should see her again.</p> +<p>While Daisy almost flew up the broad gravel path to the +house, the heavy burden she bore seemed light as a feather––no +thought that she had been imprudent ever entered her +mind.</p> +<p>There was no one to warn her of the peril which lay in the +witching depths of the handsome stranger’s glances.</p> +<p>All her young life she had dreamed of the hero who would +one day come to her, just such a dream as all youthful maidens +experience––an idol they enshrine in their innermost heart, +and worship in secret, never dreaming of a cold, dark time +when the idol may lie shattered in ruins at their feet. How +little knew gentle Daisy Brooks of the fatal love which would +drag her down to her doom!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_III' id='CHAPTER_III'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> +</div> +<p>In an elegant boudoir, all crimson and gold, some hours +later, sat Pluma Hurlhurst, reclining negligently on a satin +divan, toying idly with a volume which lay in her lap. She +tossed the book aside with a yawn, turning her superb dark +eyes on the little figure bending over the rich trailing silks +which were to adorn her own fair beauty on the coming evening.</p> +<p>“So you think you would like to attend the lawn fête to-night, +Daisy?” she asked, patronizingly.</p> +<p>Daisy glanced up with a startled blush,</p> +<p>“Oh, I should like it so much, Miss Pluma,” she answered, +hesitatingly, “if I only could!”</p> +<p>“I think I shall gratify you,” said Pluma, carelessly. +“You have made yourself very valuable to me. I like the +artistic manner you have twined these roses in my hair; the +effect is quite picturesque.” She glanced satisfiedly at her +own magnificent reflection in the cheval-glass opposite. Titian +alone could have reproduced those rich, marvelous colors––that +perfect, queenly beauty. He would have painted the picture, +and the world would have raved about its beauty. The dark +masses of raven-black hair; the proud, haughty face, with its +warm southern tints; the dusky eyes, lighted with fire and +passion, and the red, curved lips. “I wish particularly to +look my very best to-night, Daisy,” she said; “that is why I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +wish you to remain. You can arrange those sprays of white +heath in my hair superbly. Then you shall attend the fête, +Daisy. Remember, you are not expected to take part in it; +you must sit in some secluded nook where you will be quite +unobserved.”</p> +<p>Pluma could not help but smile at the ardent delight depicted +in Daisy’s face.</p> +<p>“I am afraid I can not stay,” she said, doubtfully, glancing +down in dismay at the pink-and-white muslin she wore. +“Every one would be sure to laugh at me who saw me. Then +I would wish I had not stayed.”</p> +<p>“Suppose I should give you one to wear––that white mull, +for instance––how would you like it? None of the guests +would see you,” replied Pluma.</p> +<p>There was a wistful look in Daisy’s eyes, as though she +would fain believe what she heard was really true.</p> +<p>“Would you really?” asked Daisy, wonderingly. “You, +whom people call so haughty and so proud––you would really +let me wear one of your dresses? I do not know how to tell +you how much I am pleased!” she said, eagerly.</p> +<p>Pluma Hurlhurst laughed. Such rapture was new to her.</p> +<p>The night which drew its mantle over the smiling earth was +a perfect one. Myriads of stars shone like jewels in the blue +sky, and not a cloud obscured the face of the clear full moon. +Hurlhurst Plantation was ablaze with colored lamps that threw +out soft rainbow tints in all directions as far as the eye could +reach. The interior of Whitestone Hall was simply dazzling +in its rich rose bloom, its lights, its fountains, and rippling +music from adjoining ferneries.</p> +<p>In an elegant apartment of the Hall Basil Hurlhurst, the +recluse invalid, lay upon his couch, trying to shut out the +mirth and gayety that floated up to him from below. As the +sound of Pluma’s voice sounded upon his ear he turned his +face to the wall with a bitter groan. “She is so like––” he +muttered, grimly. “Ah! the pleasant voices of our youth +turn into lashes which scourge us in our old age. ‘Like +mother, like child.’”</p> +<p>The lawn fête was a grand success; the <i>élite</i> of the whole +country round were gathered together to welcome the beautiful, +peerless hostess of Whitestone Hall. Pluma moved among +her guests like a queen, yet in all that vast throng her eyes +eagerly sought one face. “Where was Rex?” was the question +which constantly perplexed her. After the first waltz he had +suddenly disappeared. Only the evening before handsome +Rex Lyon had held her jeweled hand long at parting, whispering, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +in his graceful, charming way, he had something to tell +her on the morrow. “Why did he hold himself so strangely +aloof?” Pluma asked herself, in bitter wonder. Ah! had she +but known!</p> +<p>While Pluma, the wealthy heiress, awaited his coming so +eagerly, Rex Lyon was standing, quite lost in thought, beside +a rippling fountain in one of the most remote parts of the +lawn, thinking of Daisy Brooks. He had seen a fair face––that +was all––a face that embodied his dream of loveliness, +and without thinking of it found his fate, and the whole world +seemed changed for him.</p> +<p>Handsome, impulsive Rex Lyon, owner of several of the +most extensive and lucrative orange groves in Florida, would +have bartered every dollar of his worldly possessions for love.</p> +<p>He had hitherto treated all notion of love in a very off-hand, +cavalier fashion.</p> +<p>“Love is fate,” he had always said. He knew Pluma loved +him. Last night he had said to himself: The time had come +when he might as well marry; it might as well be Pluma as +any one else, seeing she cared so much for him. Now all that +was changed. “I sincerely hope she will not attach undue +significance to the words I spoke last evening,” he mused.</p> +<p>Rex did not care to return again among the throng; it was +sweeter far to sit there by the murmuring fountain dreaming +of Daisy Brooks, and wondering when he should see her again. +A throng which did not hold the face of Daisy Brooks had no +charm for Rex.</p> +<p>Suddenly a soft step sounded on the grass; Rex’s heart gave +a sudden bound; surely it could not be––yes, it was––Daisy +Brooks.</p> +<p>She drew back with a startled cry as her eyes suddenly encountered +those of her hero of the morning. She would have +fled precipitately had he not stretched out his hand quickly to +detain her.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” cried Rex, “why do you look so frightened? Are +you displeased to see me?”</p> +<p>“No,” she said. “I––I––do not know––”</p> +<p>She looked so pretty, so bewildered, so dazzled by joy, yet so +pitifully uncertain, Rex was more desperately in love with her +than ever.</p> +<p>“Your eyes speak, telling me you <i>are</i> pleased, Daisy, even +if your lips <i>refuse</i> to tell me so. Sit down on this rustic +bench, Daisy, while I tell you how anxiously I awaited your +coming––waited until the shadows of evening fell.”</p> +<p>As he talked to her he grew more interested with every +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +moment. She had no keen intellect, no graceful powers of +repartee, knew little of books or the great world beyond. +Daisy was a simple, guileless child of nature.</p> +<p>Rex’s vanity was gratified at the unconscious admiration +which shone in her eyes and the blushes his words brought to +her cheeks.</p> +<p>“There is my favorite waltz, Daisy,” he said, as the music +of the irresistible “Blue Danube” floated out to them. “Will +you favor me with a waltz?”</p> +<p>“Miss Pluma would be so angry,” she murmured.</p> +<p>“Never mind her anger, Daisy. I will take all the blame +on <i>my</i> shoulders. They are unusually broad, you see.”</p> +<p>He led her half reluctant among the gay throng; gentlemen +looked at one another in surprise. Who is she? they asked one +of the other, gazing upon her in wonder. No one could answer. +The sweet-faced little maiden in soft, floating white, +with a face like an angel’s, who wore no other ornament than +her crown of golden hair, was a mystery and a novelty. In +all the long years of her after life Daisy never forgot that +supremely blissful moment. It seemed to her they were floating +away into another sphere. Rex’s arms were around her, +his eyes smiling down into hers; he could feel the slight form +trembling in his embrace, and he clasped her still closer. +With youth, music, and beauty––there was nothing wanting +to complete the charm of love.</p> +<p>Leaning gracefully against an overarching palm-tree stood +a young man watching the pair with a strange intentness; a +dark, vindictive smile hovered about the corners of his mouth, +hidden by his black mustache, and there was a cruel gleam in +the dark, wicked eyes scanning the face of the young girl so +closely.</p> +<p>“Ah! why not?” he mused. “It would be a glorious revenge.” +He made his way hurriedly in the direction of his +young hostess, who was, as usual, surrounded by a group of +admirers. A deep crimson spot burned on either cheek, and +her eyes glowed like stars, as of one under intense, suppressed +excitement.</p> +<p>Lester Stanwick made his way to her side just as the last +echo of the waltz died away on the air, inwardly congratulating +himself upon finding Rex and Daisy directly beside him.</p> +<p>“Miss Pluma,” said Stanwick, with a low bow, “will you +kindly present me to the little fairy on your right? I am quite +desperately smitten with her.”</p> +<p>Several gentlemen crowded around Pluma asking the same +favor.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></div> +<p>With a smile and a bow, what could Rex do but lead Daisy +gracefully forward. Those who witnessed the scene that ensued +never forgot it. For answer Pluma Hurlhurst turned +coldly, haughtily toward them, drawing herself up proudly to +her full height.</p> +<p>“There is evidently some mistake here,” she said, glancing +scornfully at the slight, girlish figure leaning upon Rex Lyon’s +arm. “I do not recognize this person as a guest. If I mistake +not, she is one of the hirelings connected with the plantation.”</p> +<p>If a thunderbolt had suddenly exploded beneath Rex’s feet +he could not have been more thoroughly astounded.</p> +<p>Daisy uttered a piteous little cry and, like a tender flower +cut down by a sudden, rude blast, would have fallen at his +feet had he not reached out his arm to save her.</p> +<p>“Miss Hurlhurst,” cried Rex, in a voice husky with emotion, +“I hold myself responsible for this young lady’s presence +here. I––”</p> +<p>“Ah!” interrupts Pluma, ironically; “and may I ask by +what right you force one so inferior, and certainly obnoxious, +among us?”</p> +<p>Rex Lyon’s handsome face was white with rage. “Miss +Hurlhurst,” he replied, with stately dignity, “I regret, more +than the mere words express, that my heedlessness has brought +upon this little creature at my side an insult so cruel, so unjust, +and so bitter, in simply granting my request for a waltz––a +request very reluctantly granted. An invited guest among +you she may not be; but I most emphatically defy her inferiority +to any lady or gentleman present.”</p> +<p>“Rex––Mr. Lyon,” says Pluma, icily, “you forget yourself.”</p> +<p>He smiled contemptuously. “I do not admit it,” he said, +hotly. “I have done that which any gentleman should have +done; defended from insult one of the purest and sweetest of +maidens. I will do more––I will shield her, henceforth and +forever, with my very life, if need be. If I can win her, I +shall make Daisy Brooks my wife.”</p> +<p>Rex spoke rapidly––vehemently. His chivalrous soul was +aroused; he scarcely heeded the impetuous words that fell from +his lips. He could not endure the thought that innocent, +trusting little Daisy should suffer through any fault of his.</p> +<p>“Come, Daisy,” he said, softly, clasping in his own strong +white ones the little fingers clinging so pitifully to his arm, +“we will go away from here at once––our presence longer is +probably obnoxious. Farewell, Miss Hurlhurst.”</p> +<p>“Rex,” cried Pluma, involuntarily taking a step forward, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +“you do not, you can not mean what you say. You will not +allow a creature like that to separate us––you have forgotten, +Rex. You said you had something to tell me. You will not +part with me so easily,” she cried.</p> +<p>A sudden terror seized her at the thought of losing him. +He was her world. She forgot the guests gathering about +her––forgot she was the wealthy, courted heiress for whose +glance or smiles men sued in vain––forgot her haughty pride, +in the one absorbing thought that Rex was going from her. +Her wild, fiery, passionate love could bear no restraint.</p> +<p>“Rex,” she cried, suddenly falling on her knees before him, +her face white and stormy, her white jeweled hands clasped +supplicatingly, “you must not, you shall not leave me so; no +one shall come between us. Listen––I love you, Rex. What +if the whole world knows it––what will it matter, it is the +truth. My love is my life. You loved me until she came +between us with her false, fair face. But for this you would +have asked me to be your wife. Send that miserable little +hireling away, Rex––the gardener will take charge of her.”</p> +<p>Pluma spoke rapidly, vehemently. No one could stay the +torrent of her bitter words.</p> +<p>Rex was painfully distressed and annoyed. Fortunately but +very few of the guests had observed the thrilling tableau +enacted so near them.</p> +<p>“Pluma––Miss Hurlhurst,” he said, “I am sorry you have +unfortunately thus expressed yourself, for your own sake. I +beg you will say no more. You yourself have severed this +night the last link of friendship between us. I am frank with +you in thus admitting it. I sympathize with you, while your +words have filled me with the deepest consternation and embarrassment, +which it is useless longer to prolong.”</p> +<p>Drawing Daisy’s arm hurriedly within his own, Rex Lyon +strode quickly down the graveled path, with the full determination +of never again crossing the threshold of Whitestone +Hall, or gazing upon the face of Pluma Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Pluma had arisen from her knees with a gay, +mocking laugh, turning suddenly to the startled group about +her.</p> +<p>“Bravo! bravo! Miss Pluma,” cried Lester Stanwick, stepping +to her side at that opportune moment. “On the stage +you would have made a grand success. We are practicing for +a coming charade,” explained Stanwick, laughingly; “and, +judging from the expressions depicted on our friend’s faces, I +should say you have drawn largely upon real life. You will +be a success, Miss Pluma.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></div> +<p>No one dreamed of doubting the assertion. A general +laugh followed, and the music struck up again, and the gay +mirth of the fête resumed its sway.</p> +<p>Long after the guests had departed Pluma sat in her +boudoir, her heart torn with pain, love, and jealousy, her brain +filled with schemes of vengeance.</p> +<p>“I can not take her life!” she cried; “but if I could mar +her beauty––the pink-and-white beauty of Daisy Brooks, which +has won Rex from me––I would do it. I shall torture her for +this,” she cried. “I will win him from her though I wade +through seas of blood. Hear me, Heaven,” she cried, “and +register my vow!”</p> +<p>Pluma hastily rung the bell.</p> +<p>“Saddle Whirlwind and Tempest at once!” she said to the +servant who answered her summons.</p> +<p>“It is after midnight, Miss Pluma. I––”</p> +<p>There was a look in her eyes which would brook no further +words.</p> +<p>An hour later they had reached the cottage wherein slept +Daisy Brooks, heedless of the danger that awaited her.</p> +<p>“Wait for me here,” said Pluma to the groom who accompanied +her––“<i>I will not be long!</i>”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV' id='CHAPTER_IV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +</div> +<p>“Daisy,” said Rex, gently, as he led her away from the +lights and the echoing music out into the starlight that shone +with a soft, silvery radiance over hill and vale, “I shall never +forgive myself for being the cause of the cruel insult you have +been forced to endure to-night. I declare it’s a shame. I +shall tell Pluma so to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no––no––please don’t, Mr. Rex. I––I––had no right +to waltz with you,” sobbed Daisy, “when I knew you were +Pluma’s lover.”</p> +<p>“Don’t say that, Daisy,” responded Rex, warmly. “I am +glad, after all, everything has happened just as it did, otherwise +I should never have known just how dear a certain little +girl had grown to me; besides, I am not Pluma’s lover, and +never shall be now.”</p> +<p>“You have quarreled with her for my sake,” whispered +Daisy, regretfully. “I am so sorry––indeed I am.”</p> +<p>Daisy little dreamed, as she watched the deep flush rise to +Rex’s face, it was of her he was thinking, and not Pluma, by +the words, “a certain little girl.”</p> +<p>Rex saw she did not understand him; he stopped short in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +path, gazing down into those great, dreamy, pleading eyes +that affected him so strangely.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” he said, gently, taking her little clinging hands +from his arm, and clasping them in his own, “you must not +be startled at what I am going to tell you. When I met you +under the magnolia boughs, I knew I had met my fate. I +said to myself: ‘She, and no other, shall be my wife.’”</p> +<p>“Your wife,” she cried, looking at him in alarm. “Please +don’t say so. I don’t want to be your wife.”</p> +<p>“Why not, Daisy?” he asked, quickly.</p> +<p>“Because you are so far above me,” sobbed Daisy. “You +are so rich, and I am only poor little Daisy Brooks.”</p> +<p>Oh, how soft and beautiful were the eyes swimming in tears +and lifted so timidly to his face! She could not have touched +Rex more deeply. Daisy was his first love, and he loved her +from the first moment their eyes met, with all the strength of +his boyish, passionate nature; so it is not strange that the +thought of possessing her, years sooner than he should have +dared hope, made his young blood stir with ecstasy even +though he knew it was wrong.</p> +<p>“Wealth shall be no barrier between us, Daisy,” he cried. +“What is all the wealth in the world compared to love? Do +not say that again. Love outweighs everything. Even +though you bid me go away and forget you, Daisy, I could +not do it. I can not live without you.”</p> +<p>“Do you really love me so much in so short a time?” she +asked, blushingly.</p> +<p>“My love can not be measured by the length of time I have +known you,” he answered, eagerly. “Why, Daisy, the +strongest and deepest love men have ever felt have come to +them suddenly, without warning.”</p> +<p>The glamour of love was upon him; he could see no faults in +pretty little artless Daisy. True, she had not been educated +abroad like Pluma, but that did not matter; such a lovely +rosebud mouth was made for kisses, not grammar.</p> +<p>Rex stood in suspense beside her, eagerly watching the +conflict going on in the girl’s heart.</p> +<p>“Don’t refuse me, Daisy,” he cried, “give me the right to +protect you forever from the cold world; let us be married to-night. +We will keep it a secret if you say so. You must––you +<i>must</i>, Daisy, for I can not give you up.”</p> +<p>Rex was so eager, so earnest, so thoroughly the impassioned +lover! His hands were clinging to her own, his dark, handsome +face drooped near hers, his pleading eyes searching her +very soul.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></div> +<p>Daisy was young, romantic, and impressible; a thousand +thoughts rushed through her brain; it would be so nice to +have a young husband to love her and care for her like Rex, +so handsome and so kind; then, too, she would have plenty of +dresses, as fine as Pluma wore, all lace and puffs; she might +have a carriage and ponies, too; and when she rolled by the +little cottage, Septima, who had always been so cruel to her, +would courtesy to <i>her</i>, as she did when Pluma, the haughty +young heiress, passed.</p> +<p>The peachy bloom on her cheeks deepened; with Daisy’s +thoughtless clinging nature, her craving for love and protection, +her implicit faith in Rex, who had protected her so nobly +at the fête––it is not to be wondered Rex won the day.</p> +<p>Shyly Daisy raised her blue eyes to his face––and he read a +shy, sweet consent that thrilled his very soul.</p> +<p>“You shall never regret this hour, my darling,” he cried, +then in the soft silvery twilight he took her to his heart and +kissed her rapturously.</p> +<p>His mother’s bitter anger, so sure to follow––the cold, +haughty mother, who never forgot or forgave an injury, and +his little sister Birdie’s sorrow were at that moment quite forgotten––even +if they had been remembered they would have +weighed as naught compared with his lovely little Daisy with +the golden hair and eyes of blue looking up at him so trustingly.</p> +<p>Daisy never forgot that walk through the sweet pink clover +to the little chapel on the banks of the lonely river. The +crickets chirped in the long green grass, and the breeze swayed +the branches of the tall leafy trees, rocking the little birds in +their nests.</p> +<p>A sudden, swift, terrified look crept up into Daisy’s face as +they entered the dim shadowy parlor. Rex took her trembling +chilled hands in his own; if he had not, at that moment, Daisy +would have fled from the room.</p> +<p>“Only a little courage, Daisy,” he whispered, “then a life +of happiness.”</p> +<p>Then as if in a dream she stood quite still by his side, while +the fatal ceremony went on; in a confused murmur she heard +the questions and responses of her lover, and answered the +questions put to her; then Rex turned to her with a smile and +a kiss.</p> +<p>Poor little thoughtless Daisy––it was done––in a moment +she had sown the seeds from which was to spring up a harvest +of woe so terrible that her wildest imagination could not have +painted it.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></div> +<p>“Are we really married, Rex?” she whispered, as he led +her out again into the starlight; “it seems so much like a +dream.”</p> +<p>He bent his handsome head and kissed his pretty child-bride. +Daisy drew back with a startled cry––his lips were as +cold as ice.</p> +<p>“Yes, you are my very own now,” he whispered. “No +one shall ever have the right to scold you again; you are mine +now, Daisy, but we must keep it a secret from every one for +awhile, darling. You will do this for my sake, won’t you, +Daisy?” he asked. “I am rich, as far as the world knows, +but it was left to me under peculiar conditions. I––I––do not +like to tell you what those conditions were, Daisy.”</p> +<p>“Please tell me, Rex,” she said, timidly; “you know I am +your––your––wife––now.”</p> +<p>Daisy blushed so prettily as she spoke. Rex could not refrain +from catching her up in his arms and kissing her.</p> +<p>“You <i>shall</i> know, my darling,” he cried. “The conditions +were I should marry the bride whom my mother selected +for me. I was as much startled as you will be, Daisy, when +you hear who it was––Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall.”</p> +<p>“But you can not marry her now, Rex,” whispered the +little child-bride, nestling closer in his embrace.</p> +<p>“No; nor I would not if I could. I love you the best, my +pretty wild flower. I would not exchange you, sweet, for all +the world. I have only told you this so you will see why it is +necessary to keep our marriage a secret––for the present, at +least.”</p> +<p>Daisy readily consented.</p> +<p>“You are very wise, Rex,” she said. “I will do just as +you tell me.”</p> +<p>By this time they had reached Daisy’s home.</p> +<p>“I will meet you to-morrow at the magnolia-tree, where +first I found my little wood-nymph, as I shall always call you. +Then we can talk matters over better. You will be sure to +come while the dew sparkles on your pretty namesakes?” he +asked, eagerly.</p> +<p>Before she had time to answer the cottage door opened and +Septima appeared in the door-way. Rex was obliged to content +himself with snatching a hasty kiss from the rosy lips. +The next moment he was alone.</p> +<p>He walked slowly back through the tangled brushwood––not +to Whitestone Hall, but to an adjoining hostelry––feeling as +though he were in a new world. True, it <i>was</i> hard to be +separated from his little child-bride. But Rex had a clever +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +brain; he meant to think of some plan out of the present +difficulty. His face flushed and paled as he thought of his +new position; it seemed to him every one must certainly read +in his face he was a young husband.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the broad gravel path to +the little cottage, wondering if it were a dream.</p> +<p>“Well!” said Septima, sharply, “this is a pretty time of +night to come dancing home, leaving me all alone with the +baking! If I hadn’t my hands full of dough I’d give your +ears a sound boxing! I’ll see you’re never out after dark +again, I’ll warrant.”</p> +<p>For a moment Daisy’s blue eyes blazed, giving way to a +roguish smile.</p> +<p>“I wonder what she would say if she knew I was Daisy +Brooks no longer, but Mrs. Rex Lyon?” she thought, untying +the blue ribbons of her hat. And she laughed outright as she +thought how amazed Septima would look; and the laugh +sounded like the ripple of a mountain brook.</p> +<p>“Now, Aunt Seppy,” coaxed Daisy, slipping up behind her +and flinging her plump little arms around the irate spinster’s +neck, “please don’t be cross. Indeed I was very particularly +detained.”</p> +<p>Stptima shook off the clinging arms angrily.</p> +<p>“You can’t coax <i>me</i> into upholding you with your soft, +purring ways. I’m not Brother John, to be hoodwinked so +easily. Detained! A likely story!”</p> +<p>“No,” laughed Daisy; “but you are dear old Uncle John’s +sister, and I could love you for that, if for nothing else. But +I really was detained, though. Where’s Uncle John?”</p> +<p>“He’s gone to the Hall after you, I reckon. I told him he +had better stop at home––you were like a bad penny, sure to +find your way back.”</p> +<p>A sudden terror blanched Daisy’s face.</p> +<p>“When did he go, Aunt Seppy?” she asked, her heart +throbbing so loudly she was sure Septima would hear it.</p> +<p>“An hour or more ago.”</p> +<p>Daisy hastily picked up her hat again.</p> +<p>“Where are you going?” demanded Septima, sharply.</p> +<p>“I––I––am going to meet Uncle John. Please don’t stop +me,” she cried, darting with the speed of a young gazelle past +the hand that was stretched out to stay her mad flight. “I––I––must +go!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V' id='CHAPTER_V'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> +</div> +<p>“I say you shall not,” cried Septima, planting herself +firmly before her. “You shall not leave this house to-night.”</p> +<p>“You have no right to keep me here,” panted Daisy. “I +am––I am––” The words died away on her lips. Rex had +told her she must not tell just yet.</p> +<p>“You are a rash little fool,” cried Septima, wrathfully. +“You are the bane of my life, and have been ever since that +stormy winter night John brought you here. I told him then +to wash his hands of the whole matter; you would grow up a +willful, impetuous minx, and turn out at last like your +mother.”</p> +<p>Daisy sprung to her feet like lightning, her velvet eyes +blazing, her breath coming quick and hot.</p> +<p>“Speak of me as lightly as you will, Aunt Septima,” she +cried, “but you must spare my poor mother’s name! Oh, +mother, mother!” she cried, flinging herself down on her +knees, and sobbing piteously, “if you had only taken me with +you, down into the dark cruel waters!”</p> +<p>“I only wish to Heaven she had!” fervently ejaculated +Septima.</p> +<p>At that moment a quick, hurried step sounded on the gravel +path without, and John Brooks hastily entered the room.</p> +<p>“Ah! thank God! here you are, Daisy. I was over at the +Hall for you, and they told me you had left some hours before. +I knew you had not been home, and I was sorely afraid something +had happened you.”</p> +<p>Ah! how little he knew! Something had happened to her, the +darkest and cruelest shadow that had ever darkened a girl’s life +was slowly gathering above her innocent head, and was soon +to break, carrying in its turbulent depths a sorrow more bitter +than death to bear.</p> +<p>John Brooks glanced inquiringly from the one to the other, +intuitively guessing he must have interrupted a scene.</p> +<p>Daisy had struggled up from her knees to a sitting posture, +putting her hair, curled into a thousand shining rings, away +from her flushed face.</p> +<p>“Have you been scolding Daisy again, Septima?” he asked, +angrily, taking the panting little damsel from the floor and +seating her upon his knee, and drawing her curly head down +to his rough-clad shoulder, and holding it there with his toil-hardened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +hand. “What have you been saying to my little +Daisy that I find her in tears?”</p> +<p>“I was telling her if she did not mend her willful ways she +might turn out like her moth––”</p> +<p>“Hush!” exclaimed John Brooks, excitedly. “I shouldn’t +have thought you would have dared say that. What does +Daisy know of such things?” he muttered, indignantly. +“Don’t let your senses run away with you, Septima.”</p> +<p>“Don’t let your senses run away with you, John Brooks. +Haven’t you the sense to know Daisy is getting too big for you +to take on your knee and pet in that fashion? I am really +ashamed of you. Daisy is almost a woman!” snapped Septima, +scornfully––“quite sixteen.”</p> +<p>John Brooks looked at his sister in amazement, holding +little Daisy off and gazing into the sweet little blooming face, +and stroking the long fluffy golden curls as he replied:</p> +<p>“Ah, no, Septima; Daisy is only a child. Why, it seems +as though it were but yesterday I used to take her with me +through the cotton-fields, and laugh to see her stretch her +chubby hands up, crying for the bursting blossoms, growing +high above her curly golden head. Pshaw! Septima, Daisy is +only a merry, frolicsome, romantic child yet.”</p> +<p>Daisy nestled her tell-tale face closer on his broad shoulder +to hide the swift blushes that crept up to cheek and brow.</p> +<p>“Look up, pet,” he said, coaxingly, “I have news for +you.”</p> +<p>“What––what is it?” gasped Daisy, wondering if he could +possibly have heard of her romantic marriage with Rex, turning +white to the very lips, her blue eyes darkening with +suspense.</p> +<p>“Come, come, now,” laughed, John, good-humoredly, +“don’t get excited, pet, it will take me just as long to tell it +anyhow; it is something that will please you immensely.”</p> +<p>He drew from his breast pocket as he spoke a thick, yellow +envelope, which contained several printed forms with blank +spaces which were to be filled up. There was something in +his voice which made Daisy look at him, but her eyes fell and +her cheeks flushed hotly as she met his glance.</p> +<p>Daisy was not used to keeping a secret locked up in her +truthful little heart. She longed to throw her arms around +his neck and whisper to him of her mad, romantic marriage, +and of the handsome young husband who loved her so fondly.</p> +<p>Daisy knew so little of real life, and less of love and marriage, +up to the time she had met Rex! Her heroes had been +imaginary ones, her ideas of love only girlish, romantic fancies. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +It was all very exciting and charming. She was very fond of +handsome Rex, but she had yet to learn the depths of love +which, sooner or later, brightens the lives of lovable women.</p> +<p>Daisy looked at the envelope with a wistful glance.</p> +<p>“I am going to make a lady of you, my little sunbeam. I +am going to send you off to boarding-school. That’s what you +have always wanted; now I am going to humor your whim.”</p> +<p>“But I––I do not want to go now, Uncle John. I––I have +changed my mind.”</p> +<p>“What!”</p> +<p>“I––I don’t want to go off to boarding-school now. I had +rather stay here with you.”</p> +<p>John Brooks laid down the pipe he was just lighting in +genuine surprise.</p> +<p>“Why, it’s only last week you were crying those pretty eyes +of yours out, teasing to be sent to school. I––well, confound +it––I don’t understand the ways of women. I always thought +you were different from the rest, little Daisy, but I see you are +all the same. Never two days of the same mind. What is +the reason you’ve changed your mind, pet?”</p> +<p>“Indeed, I don’t want to go now, Uncle John. Please +don’t talk about it any more. I––I am happier here than I +can tell you.”</p> +<p>John Brooks laughed cheerily.</p> +<p>“It’s too late for you to change your mind now, little one. +I have made arrangements for you to start bright and early to-morrow +morning. The stage will be here by daylight, so you +had better start off to bed at once, or there will be no roses in +these checks to-morrow.”</p> +<p>He never forgot the expression of the white, startled face +Daisy raised to his. For once in her life Daisy was unable to +shake him from his purpose.</p> +<p>“I know best, little one,” he said. “I mean to make a +lady of you. You have no fortune, little Daisy, but your +pretty face. It will be hard to lose my little sunbeam, but it +is my duty, Daisy. It is too late to back out now; for once I +am firm. You must start to-morrow morning.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” sobbed Daisy, throwing herself down +on her little white bed when she had reached her own room, +“what shall I do? I can’t go without seeing Rex. I never +heard of a girl that was married being sent off to school. I––I +dare not tell Uncle John I am somebody’s wife. Oh, if I +could only see Rex!” Daisy springs out of bed and crosses +over to the little white curtained window, gazing out into the +still calm beauty of the night. “If I only knew where to find +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +Rex,” she mused, “I would go to him now. Surely he would +not let me be sent away from him.” She turned away from +the window with a sigh. “I must see Rex to-morrow morning,” +she said, determinedly. And the weary little golden +head, tired out with the day which had just died out, sunk +restfully down upon the snowy pillow in a dreamless sleep, +the happiest, alas! that poor little girl-bride was to know for +long and weary years.</p> +<p>A dark, dreamy silence wraps the cottage in its soft embrace, +the moon, clear and full, sails tranquilly through the +star-sown heavens, and the sweet scent of distant orange groves +is wafted through the midnight breeze. Yet the dark-cloaked +figure that walks quickly and softly up the graveled walk sees +none of the soft, calm beauty of the still summer night. She +raises the brass knocker with a quick, imperative touch. After +a wait of perhaps ten minutes or so Septima answers the summons, +but the candle she holds nearly drops from her hands as +she beholds the face of her midnight visitor in the dim, uncertain +flickering glare of the candle-light.</p> +<p>“Miss Pluma,” she exclaims, in amazement, “is there any +one ill at the Hall?”</p> +<p>“No!” replies Pluma, in a low, soft, guarded whisper. “I +wished to see you––my business is most important––may I +come in?”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” answered Septima, awkwardly. “I beg your +pardon, miss, for keeping you standing outside so long.”</p> +<p>As Pluma took the seat Septima placed for her, the dark +cloak she wore fell from her shoulders, and Septima saw with +wonder she still wore the shimmering silk she had in all probability +worn at the fête. The rubies still glowed like restless, +leaping fire upon her perfect arms and snowy throat, and +sprays of hyacinth were still twined in her dark, glossy hair; +but they were quite faded now, drooping, crushed, and limp +among her curls; there was a strange dead-white pallor on her +haughty face, and a lurid gleam shone in her dark, slumbrous +eyes. Pluma had studied well the character of the woman before +her––who made no secret of her dislike for the child +thrust upon their bounty––and readily imagined she would +willingly aid her in carrying out the scheme she had planned.</p> +<p>Slowly one by one the stars died out of the sky; the pale +moon drifted silently behind the heavy rolling clouds; the +winds tossed the tops of the tall trees to and fro, and the dense +darkness which precedes the breaking of the gray dawn settled +over the earth.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></div> +<p>The ponies which the groom had held for long hours pawed +the ground restlessly; the man himself was growing impatient.</p> +<p>“She can be up to no good,” he muttered; “all honest +people should be in their beds.”</p> +<p>The door of the cottage opened, and Pluma Hurlhurst +walked slowly down the path.</p> +<p>“All is fair in love’s warfare,” she mutters, triumphantly. +“Fool! with your baby face and golden hair, you shall walk +quickly into the net I have spread for you; he shall despise +you. Ay, crush with his heel into the earth the very flowers +that bear the name of <i>Daisy</i>.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI' id='CHAPTER_VI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +</div> +<p>Under the magnolia-tree, among the pink clover, Rex +Lyon paced uneasily to and fro, wondering what could have +happened to detain Daisy. He was very nervous, feverish, +and impatient, as he watched the sun rising higher and higher +in the blue heavens, and glanced at his watch for the fifth +time in the space of a minute.</p> +<p>“Pshaw!” he muttered, whisking off the tops of the buttercups +near him with his ebony walking-stick. “I am not +myself at all. I am growing as nervous as a woman. I think +I’ll read little sister Birdie’s letter over again to occupy my +mind until my sweet little Daisy comes.”</p> +<p>He sighed and smiled in one breath, as he threw himself +down at full length on the green grass under the trees. Taking +from his pocket a little square white envelope, addressed +in a childish hand to “Mr. Rexford Lyon, Allendale, West +Virginia, Care of Miss Pluma.” Rex laughed aloud, until the +tears started to his eyes, as they fell on the words “<i>Care of +Miss Pluma</i>,” heavily underlined in the lower corner.</p> +<p>“That is just like careless little romping Birdie,” he mused. +“She supposes, because <i>she</i> knows who <i>Miss Pluma</i> is, every +one else must certainly be aware of the same fact.”</p> +<p>He spread out the letter on his knee, trying hard to while +away time in perusing its pages.</p> +<p>Rex looked so fresh and cool and handsome in his white +linen suit, lying there under the shady trees that summer +morning, his dark curls resting on his white hand, and a smile +lighting up his pleasant face, it is not to be wondered at he +was just the kind of young fellow to win the love of young +romantic girls like Daisy and Pluma––the haughty young +heiress.</p> +<p>Slowly Rex read the letter through to the end. The morning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +stage whirled rapidly past him on its way to meet the early +train. Yet, all unconscious that it bore away from him his +treasure, he never once glanced up from the letter he was +reading.</p> +<p>Again Rex laughed aloud as he glanced it over, reading as +follows:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class='smcap'>Dear Brother Rex</span>,––We received the letter you wrote, +and the picture you sent with it, and my heart has been so +heavy ever since that I could not write to you because big tears +would fall on the page and blot it. Now, dear old Brother +Rex, don’t be angry at what your little Birdie is going to say. +Mamma says you are going to marry and bring home a wife, +and she showed me her picture, and said you was very much +in love with her, and I must be so too. But I can’t fall in +love with her, Brother Rex; indeed, I’ve tried very hard and I +can’t; don’t tell anybody, but I’m awfully afraid I sha’n’t like +her one bit. She looks stylish, and her name Pluma sounds +real stylish too, but she don’t look kind. I thought, perhaps, +if I told you I did not like her you might give her up and +come home. I forgot to tell you the blue room and the room +across the hall is being fixed up for you just lovely, and I am +to have your old one.</p> +<p>“P.S.––And we received a letter from Mr. Lester Stanwick, +too. He says he will be passing through here soon and wishes +to call. When are you coming home, Rex? Don’t bring any +one with you.</p> +<p class='ralign'>“Your loving little sister,<span class='rindent8'> </span><br /> +“<span class='smcap'>Birdie</span>.”<span class='rindent4'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>“There’s no fear of my bringing Pluma home now,” he +laughed, whistling a snatch of “The Pages’ Chorus.” “Birdie +won’t have anything to fear on that score. I do wish mother +hadn’t set my heart on my marrying Pluma. Parents make +a mistake in choosing whom their children shall marry and +whom they shall not. Love goes where it is sent.”</p> +<p>He looked at his watch again.</p> +<p>“By George!” he muttered, turning very pale upon seeing +another hour had slipped away, “I can not stand this a minute +longer. I <i>must</i> see what has happened to Daisy.”</p> +<p>With a nameless fear clutching at his heart––a dark, shadowy +fear––like the premonition of coming evil, Rex made his way +rapidly through the tangled underbrush, cutting across lots to +John Brooks’ cottage.</p> +<p>He had determined to call for Daisy upon some pretext. It +was rather a bold undertaking and might cause comment, still +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +Rex was reckless of all consequences; he <i>must</i> see Daisy at all +hazards; and when Rex made up his mind to do anything he +usually succeeded; he was as daring and courageous as he was +reckless and handsome.</p> +<p>Once, twice, thrice he knocked, receiving no answer to his +summons.</p> +<p>“That’s strange,” he mused, “exceedingly strange.”</p> +<p>Hardly knowing what prompted him to do it, Rex turned +the knob; it yielded to the touch, swinging slowly back on its +creaking hinges.</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” he ejaculated, gazing wildly about him +and as pale as death, “Daisy is gone and the cottage is empty!”</p> +<p>He leaned against the door-way, putting his hand to his brow +like one who had received a heavy blow; and the bare walls +seemed to take up the cry and echo, mockingly, “Gone!”</p> +<p>The blow was so sudden and unexpected he was completely +bewildered; his brain was in a whirl.</p> +<p>He saw a laborer crossing the cotton-fields and called to +him.</p> +<p>“I was looking for John Brooks,” said Rex. “I find the +cottage empty. Can you tell me where they have gone?”</p> +<p>“Gone!” echoed the man, surprisedly. “I don’t understand +it; I was passing the door a few hours since, just as the +stage drove off with John Brooks and Daisy. ‘Good-bye, +neighbor,’ he called out to me, ‘I am off on an extended business +trip. You must bring your wife over to see Septima; +she will be lonely, I’ll warrant.’ There was no sign of +him moving then. I––I don’t understand it.”</p> +<p>“You say he took Daisy with him,” asked Rex, with painful +eagerness. “Can you tell me where they went?”</p> +<p>The man shook his head and passed on. Rex was more +mystified than ever.</p> +<p>“What can it all mean?” he asked himself. “Surely,” +he cried, “Daisy––dear little innocent blue-eyed Daisy––could +not have meant to deceive me; yet why has she not told me?”</p> +<p>The hot blood mounted to his temples. Perhaps Daisy regretted +having married him and had fled from him. The +thought was so bitter it almost took his breath away. Rex +loved her so madly, so passionately, so blindly, he vowed to +himself he would search heaven and earth to find her. And +in that terrible hour the young husband tasted the first draught +of the cup of bitterness which he was to drain to the very +dregs.</p> +<p>Poor Rex! he little knew this was but the first stroke of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +Pluma Hurlhurst’s fatal revenge––to remove her rival from +her path that she might win him back to his old allegiance.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Early that morning there had been great bustle and stir in +the Brooks’ cottage. In vain Daisy had attempted to steal +quietly away into her own little room and write a hasty line to +Rex, which, if all other means failed her, she could send to +him by one of the men employed in the fields, begging him to +come to her at once. Septima would not leave her to herself +for a single instant. Even her writing-desk, which had stood +on the bureau in the corner for years, was gone. Poor little +Daisy cried out to herself––fate was against her.</p> +<p>“I should like to say good-bye to the old familiar scenes, +Septima,” she said, making a desperate effort to meet Rex by +some means. “I should like to see the old magnolia-tree +down in the glade just once before I go.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense,” replied Septima, sharply, a malicious smile +hovering about the corners of her mouth. “I guess the trees +and the flowers won’t wither and die of grief if you don’t bid +them good-bye; it’s too late now, anyhow. See, here is the +stage coming already,” she cried, glancing out of the window, +“and here comes John with his valise and umbrella. Make +haste, Daisy; where’s your gloves and satchel?”</p> +<p>For one brief instant Daisy stood irresolute; if she had only +dared cry out to them “I am a bride; it is cruel to send me +away from Rex,” what a world of misery might have been +spared her! but her lips were sealed.</p> +<p>“Well, well,” cried John Brooks, hurriedly entering the +room; “not ready yet, little girlie? We must be off at once +or we will miss the train.”</p> +<p>In vain Daisy protested brokenly she could not go, and the +agony in those blue uplifted eyes would have touched a heart +of stone. Still John Brooks believed it would be a sin to +comply with her request. Go to school she must, for Heaven +had intended a cultured mind should accompany so beautiful +a face. Half lifting, half carrying the slight figure in his +powerful arms, Daisy was borne, half fainting and sobbing as +though her heart would break, to the vehicle which stood in +waiting.</p> +<p>On through the fragrant stillness of that sunshiny summer +morning the jolting stage rolled rapidly on its way, crossing +the little bridge where she had lingered only the night before +with Rex, her husband; they would soon reach the alder bushes +that skirted the pool. The next bend in the road would bring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +her in sight of the magnolia-tree where Rex would be awaiting +her.</p> +<p>Ah, thank Heaven, it was not too late! she could fling out +her arms, and cry out: “Rex, my love, my darling, they are +bearing me from you! Save me, Rex, my darling, save me!”</p> +<p>John Brooks sat quietly by her side silently wondering what +had come over little Daisy––sweet, impulsive little Daisy––in a +single night. “She is only a child,” he muttered to himself, +“full of whims and caprices; crying her eyes out last week +because she could not go off to school, and now crying because +she’s got to go.”</p> +<p>Swiftly the stage rolled down the green sloping hill-side; in +another moment it had reached the alder bushes and gained +the curve of the road, and she saw Rex lying on the green +grass waiting for her. The sunlight drifting through the +magnolia blossoms fell upon his handsome, upturned, smiling +face and the dark curls pushed back from his white forehead. +“Rex! Rex!” she cried, wringing her white hands, but the +words died away on her white lips, making no sound. Then +the world seemed to close darkly around her, and poor little +Daisy, the unhappy girl-bride, fell back in the coach in a +deadly swoon.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII' id='CHAPTER_VII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +</div> +<p>“Poor little Daisy!” cried John Brooks, wiping away a +suspicious moisture from his eyes with his rough, toil-hardened +hand, “she takes it pretty hard now; but the time will come +when she will thank me for it. Heaven knows there’s nothing +in this world more valuable than an education; and she will +need it, poor little, motherless child!”</p> +<p>As the stage drove up before the station Daisy opened her +blue eyes with a sigh. “I can at least write to Rex at once,” +she thought, “and explain the whole matter to him.” Daisy +smiled as she thought Rex would be sure to follow on the very +next train.</p> +<p>John Brooks watched the smile and the flush of the rosy +face, and believed Daisy was beginning to feel more reconciled +about going to school.</p> +<p>“I hope we will get there by noon,” said John, anxiously, +taking the seat beside her on the crowded train. “If we missed +the train at the cross-roads it would be a serious calamity. I +should be obliged to send you on alone; for I <i>must</i> get to New +York by night, as I have some very important business to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +transact for the plantation which must be attended to at +once.”</p> +<p>“Alone!” echoed Daisy, tremblingly. “Why, Uncle John, +I was never away from home alone in my life!”</p> +<p>“That’s just the difficulty,” he answered, perplexedly. “I +have always guarded my little flower from the world’s cruel +blasts, and you are unused to the rough side of life.”</p> +<p>“Still, I <i>could</i> go on alone,” persisted Daisy, bravely.</p> +<p>John Brooks laughed outright.</p> +<p>“You would get lost at the first corner, my girlie! Then I +should have to fly around to these newspaper offices, advertising +for the recovery of a little country Daisy which was +either lost, strayed, or stolen. No, no, little one!” he cried; +“I would not trust you alone, a stranger in a great city. A +thousand ills might befall a young girl with a face like yours.”</p> +<p>“No one would know I was a stranger,” replied Daisy, innocently. +“I should simply inquire the way to Madame Whitney’s, +and follow the directions given me.”</p> +<p>“There! didn’t I tell you you could never find the way?” +laughed John until he was red in the face. “You suppose a +city is like our country lanes, eh?––where you tell a stranger: +‘Follow that path until you come to a sign-post, then that will +tell you which road leads to the village.’ Ha! ha! ha! Why, +my dear little Daisy, not one person in a hundred whom you +might meet ever heard of Madame Whitney! In cities people +don’t know their very neighbors personally. They are sure to +find out if there’s any scandal afloat about them––and that is +all they do know about them. You would have a lively time +of it finding Madame Whitney’s without your old uncle John +to pilot you through, I can tell you.”</p> +<p>Daisy’s last hope was nipped in the bud. She had told herself, +if she were left alone, she could send a telegram back at +once to Rex, and he would join her, and she would not have +to go to school––school, which would separate a girl-bride +from her handsome young husband, of whom she was fast +learning to be so fond.</p> +<p>“I could have sent you under the care of Mr. Stanwick,” +continued John, thoughtfully. “He started for the city yesterday––but +I did not receive Madame Whitney’s letter in +time.”</p> +<p>He did not notice, as he spoke, that the occupant in the seat +directly in front of them gave a perceptible start, drawing the +broad slouch hat he wore, which concealed his features so well, +still further over his face, while a cruel smile lingered for a +moment about the handsome mouth.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span></div> +<p>The stranger appeared deeply interested in the columns of +the paper he held before him; but in reality he was listening +attentively to the conversation going on behind him.</p> +<p>“I shall not lose sight of this pretty little girl,” said Lester +Stanwick to himself, for it was he. “No power on earth shall +save her from me. I shall win her from him––by fair means +or foul. It will be a glorious revenge!”</p> +<p>“Madame Whitney’s seminary is a very high-toned institution,” +continued John, reflectively; “and the young girls I +saw there wore no end of furbelows and ribbons; but I’ll warrant +for fresh, sweet beauty you’ll come out ahead of all of +’em, Pet.”</p> +<p>“You think so much of me, dear good old uncle,” cried +Daisy, gratefully. “I––I wonder if any one in the world could +ever––could ever care for me as––as you do?” whispered Daisy, +laying her soft, warm cheek against his rough hand.</p> +<p>“No one but a husband,” he responded, promptly. “But +you are too young to have such notions in your head yet +awhile. Attend to your books, and don’t think of beaus. Now +that we are on the subject, I might as well speak out what I’ve +had on my mind some time back. I don’t want my little +Daisy to fall in love with any of these strangers she happens to +meet. You are too young to know anything about love affairs. +You’ll never rightly understand it until it comes to you. I +must know all about the man who wants my little Daisy. +Whatever you do, little one, do upright and honestly. And, +above all, never deceive me. I have often heard of these +romantic young school-girls falling in love with handsome +strangers, and clandestine meetings following, ending in elopements; +but, mark my words, no good comes of these deceptions––forewarned +is forearmed. Daisy, you’ll always remember +my words, and say to yourself: ‘He knows what is best.’ +You will remember what I say, won’t you, Pet?”</p> +<p>He wondered why the fair, sweet face grew as pale as a +snow-drop, and the cold little fingers trembled in his clasp, +and the velvety eyes drooped beneath his earnest gaze.</p> +<p>“Yes,” whispered Daisy; “I shall remember what you +have said.”</p> +<p>In spite of her efforts to speak naturally and calmly the +sweet voice would tremble.</p> +<p>“Bal––ti––more!” shouted the brakeman, lustily. “Twenty +minutes for breakfast. Change cars for the north and west!”</p> +<p>“Ah, here we are!” cried John, hastily gathering up their +satchels and innumerable bundles. “We must make haste to +reach the uptown omnibus to get a seat, or we shall have to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +stand and cling to the strap all the way up. I’m an old traveler, +you see. There’s nothing like knowing the ins and +outs.”</p> +<p>“Have a coach uptown, sir? Take you to any part of the +city. Coach, sir?” cried innumerable hackmen, gathering +about them.</p> +<p>Daisy tightened her hold on John’s arm. She quite believed +they intended to pick her up and put her in the coach by main +force. One of them was actually walking off with her reticule.</p> +<p>“Hold there, young man,” cried John, quickly, recovering +the satchel. “Don’t make yourself uneasy on our account. +We would be pleased to ride in your conveyance if you don’t +charge anything. We have no money.”</p> +<p>The loquacious hackmen fell back as if by magic. Daisy +was blushing like a rose, terribly embarrassed. John Brooks +laughed long and heartily.</p> +<p>“That’s the quickest way in the world to rid yourself of +those torments,” he declared, enjoying his little joke hugely. +“Why, Daisy, if you had come on alone some of those chaps +would have spirited you away without even saying so much as +‘by your leave.’”</p> +<p>Mme. Whitney’s Seminary for Young Ladies was a magnificent +structure, situated in the suburbs of Baltimore. On +either side of the pebbled walk which led to the main entrance +were tall fountains tossing their rainbow-tinted sprays up to +the summer sunshine. The lawn in front was closely shaven, +and through the trees in the rear of the building could be seen +the broad rolling Chesapeake dancing and sparkling in the +sunlight. The reputation of this institution was second to +none. Young ladies were justly proud of being able to say +they finished their education at Mme. Whitney’s establishment.</p> +<p>As a natural consequence, the school was composed of the +<i>élite</i> of the South. Clang! clang! clang! sounded the great +bell from the belfry as Daisy, with a sinking, homesick feeling +stealing over her, walked slowly up the paved walk by John +Brooks’ side toward the imposing, aristocratic structure.</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy never forgot that first day at boarding-school; +how all the dainty young girls in their soft white muslins +glanced in surprise at her when Mme. Whitney brought +her into the school-room, but she could have forgiven them for +that if they had not laughed at her poor old uncle John, in his +plain country garb, and they giggled behind their handkerchiefs +when she clung to his neck and could not say good-bye +through her tears, but sunk down into her seat, leaning her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +head on her desk, bravely trying to keep back the pearly drops +that would fall.</p> +<p>When recess came Daisy did not leave her seat. She would +have given the world to have heard Rex’s voice just then; she +was beginning to realize how much his sheltering love was to +her. She would even have been heartily glad to have been +back in the little kitchen at the cottage, no matter how much +Septima scolded her.</p> +<p>All the girls here had the same haughty way of tossing their +heads and curling their lips and looking innumerable things +out of their eyes, which reminded Daisy so strongly of Pluma +Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>Most of the girls had left the school-room, dividing off into +groups and pairs here and there. Daisy sat watching them, +feeling wretchedly lonely. Suddenly a soft white hand was +laid lightly on her shoulder, and a sweet voice said:</p> +<p>“We have a recess of fifteen minutes, won’t you come out +into the grounds with me? I should be so pleased to have you +come.” The voice was so gentle, so coaxing, so sweet, Daisy +involuntarily glanced up at the face of the young girl bending +over her as she arose to accompany her. She put her arm +around Daisy’s waist, school-girl fashion, as they walked down +the lone halls and out to the green grassy lawn. “My name +is Sara Miller,” she said; “will you tell me yours?”</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks,” she answered, simply.</p> +<p>“What a pretty name!” cried her new-found friend, enthusiastically, +“and how well it suits you! Why, it is a little +poem in itself.”</p> +<p>Daisy flushed as rosy as the crimson geraniums near them, +remembering Rex, her own handsome Rex, had said the same +thing that morning he had carried her heavy basket to the +gates of Whitestone Hall––that morning when all the world +seemed to change as she glanced up into his merry brown +eyes.</p> +<p>“We are to be room-mates,” explained Sara, “and I know +I shall like you ever so much. Do you think you will like me?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Daisy. “I like you now.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Miss Sara, making a mock courtesy. +“I am going to love you with all my might, and if you don’t +love me you will be the most ungrateful creature in the world. +I know just how lonesome you must be,” continued Sara. “I +remember just how lonesome I was the first day I was away +from mamma, and when night set in and I was all alone, and +I knew I was securely locked in, I was actually thinking of +tearing the sheets of my bed into strips and making a rope of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +them, and letting myself down to the ground through the window, +and making for home as fast as I could. I knew I would +be brought back the next day, though,” laughed Sara. +“Mamma is so strict with me. I suppose yours is too?”</p> +<p>“I have no mother––or father,” answered Daisy. “All +my life I have lived with John Brooks and his sister Septima, +on the Hurlhurst Plantation. I call them aunt and uncle. +Septima has often told me no relationship at all existed between +us.”</p> +<p>“You are an orphan, then?” suggested the sympathetic +Sara. “Is there no one in all the world related to you?”</p> +<p>“Yes––no––o,” answered Daisy, confusedly, thinking of +Rex, her young husband, and of the dearest relationship in all +the world which existed between them.</p> +<p>“What a pity,” sighed Sara. “Well, Daisy,” she cried, +impulsively, throwing both her arms around her and giving +her a hearty kiss, “you and I will be all the world to each +other. I shall tell you all my secrets and you must tell me +yours. There’s some girls you can trust, and some you can’t. +If you tell them your secrets, the first time you have a spat +your secret is a secret no longer. Every girl in the school +knows all about it; of course you are sure to make up again. +But,” added Sara, with a wise expression, “after you are once +deceived, you can never trust them again.”</p> +<p>“I have never known many girls,” replied Daisy. “I do +not know how others do, but I’m sure you can always trust +my friendship.”</p> +<p>And the two girls sealed their compact with a kiss, just as +the great bell in the belfry rang, warning them they must be +at their lessons again––recess was over.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII' id='CHAPTER_VIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>In one of the private offices of Messrs. Tudor, Peck & Co., +the shrewd Baltimore detectives, stood Rex, waiting patiently +until the senior member of the firm should be at leisure.</p> +<p>“Now, my dear sir, I will attend you with pleasure,” said +Mr. Tudor, sealing and dispatching the note he had just finished, +and motioning Rex to a seat.</p> +<p>“I shall be pleased if you will permit me to light a +cigar,” said Rex, taking the seat indicated.</p> +<p>“Certainly, certainly; smoke, if you feel so inclined, by all +means,” replied the detective, watching with a puzzled twinkle +in his eye the fair, boyish face of his visitor. “No, thank +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +you,” he said, as Rex tendered him an Havana; “I never smoke +during business hours.”</p> +<p>“I wish to engage your services to find out the whereabouts +of––of––of––my wife,” said Rex, hesitatingly. “She has left +me––suddenly––she fled––on the very night of our marriage!”</p> +<p>It hurt Rex’s pride cruelly to make this admission, and a +painful flush crept up into the dark rings of hair lying on his +white forehead.</p> +<p>Mr. Tudor was decidedly amazed. He could not realize how +any sane young woman could leave so handsome a young fellow +as the one before him. In most cases the shoe was on the +other foot; but he was too thoroughly master of his business +to express surprise in his face. He merely said:</p> +<p>“Go on, sir; go on!”</p> +<p>And Rex did go on, never sparing himself in describing how +he urged Daisy to marry him on the night of the fête, and of +their parting, and the solemn promise to meet on the morrow, +and of his wild grief––more bitter than death––when he had +found the cottage empty.</p> +<p>“It reads like the page of a romance,” said Rex, with a +dreary smile, leaning his head on his white hand. “But I +must find her!” he cried, with energy. “I shall search the +world over for her. If it takes every cent of my fortune, I +shall find Daisy!”</p> +<p>Rex looked out of the window at the soft, fleecy clouds overhead, +little dreaming Daisy was watching those self-same +clouds, scarcely a stone’s throw from the very spot where he +sat, and at that moment he was nearer Daisy than he would +be for perhaps years again, for the strong hand of Fate was +slowly but surely drifting them asunder.</p> +<p>For some moments neither spoke.</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” said Mr. Tudor, breaking the silence, “there +was a previous lover in the case?”</p> +<p>“I am sure there was not!” said Rex, eagerly.</p> +<p>Still the idea was new to him. He adored Daisy with a +mad, idolatrous adoration, almost amounting to worship, and +a love so intense is susceptible to the poisonous breath of jealousy, +and jealousy ran in Rex’s veins. He could not endure +the thought of Daisy’s––his Daisy’s––eyes brightening or her +cheek flushing at the approach of a rival––that fair, flower-like +face, sweet and innocent as a child’s––Daisy, whom he so +madly loved.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Tudor, as Rex arose to depart, “I will +do all I can for you. Leave your address, please, in case I +should wish to communicate with you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></div> +<p>“I think I shall go back to Allendale, remaining there at +least a month or so. I have a strong conviction Daisy might +come back, or at least write to me there.”</p> +<p>Mr. Tudor jotted down the address, feeling actually sorry +for the handsome young husband clinging to such a frail straw +of hope. In his own mind, long before Rex had concluded +his story, he had settled his opinion––that from some cause the +young wife had fled from him with some rival, bitterly repenting +her mad, hasty marriage.</p> +<p>“I have great faith in your acknowledged ability,” said +Rex, grasping Mr. Tudor’s outstretched hand. “I shall rest +my hopes upon your finding Daisy. I can not, will not, believe +she is false. I would as soon think of the light of heaven +playing me false as my sweet little love!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The dark mantle of night had folded its dusky wings over +the inmates of the seminary. All the lights were out in the +young ladies’ rooms––as the nine-o’clock call, “All lights +out!” had been called some ten minutes before––all the lights +save one, flickering, dim, and uncertain, from Daisy’s window.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear!” cried Daisy, laying her pink cheek down on +the letter she was writing to Rex, “I feel as though I could do +something <i>very</i> desperate to get away from here––and––and––back +to Rex. Poor fellow!” she sighed, “I wonder what he +thought, as the hours rolled by and I did not come? Of course +he went over to the cottage,” she mused, “and Septima must +have told him where I had gone. Rex will surely come for me +to-morrow,” she told herself, with a sweet, shy blush.</p> +<p>She read and reread the letter her trembling little hands +had penned with many a heart-flutter. It was a shy, sweet +little letter, beginning with “Dear Mr. Rex,” and ending +with, “Yours sincerely, Daisy.” It was just such a dear, +timid letter as many a pure, fresh-hearted loving young girl +would write, brimful of the love which filled her guileless heart +for her handsome, debonair Rex––with many allusions to the +secret between them which weighed so heavily on her heart, +sealing her lips for his dear sake.</p> +<p>After sealing and directing her precious letter, and placing +it in the letter-bag which hung at the lower end of the corridor, +Daisy hurried back to her own apartment and crept +softly into her little white bed, beside Sara, and was soon fast +asleep, dreaming of Rex and a dark, haughty, scornful face +falling between them and the sunshine––the cold, mocking +face of Pluma Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>Mme. Whitney, as was her custom, always looked over the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +out-going mail early in the morning, sealing the letters of which +she approved, and returning, with a severe reprimand, those +which did not come up to the standard of her ideas.</p> +<p>“What is this?” she cried, in amazement, turning the letter +Daisy had written in her hand. “Why, I declare, it is +actually sealed!” Without the least compunction she broke +the seal, grimly scanning its contents from beginning to end. +If there was anything under the sun the madame abominated +it was love-letters.</p> +<p>It was an established fact that no tender <i>billets-doux</i> found +their way from the academy; the argus-eyed madame was too +watchful for that.</p> +<p>With a lowering brow, she gave the bell-rope a hasty pull.</p> +<p>“Jenkins,” she said to the servant answering her summons, +“send Miss Brooks to me here at once!”</p> +<p>“Poor little thing!” cried the sympathetic Jenkins to herself. +“I wonder what in the world is amiss now? There’s +fire in the madame’s eye. I hope she don’t intend to scold +poor little Daisy Brooks.” Jenkins had taken a violent fancy +to the sweet-faced, golden-haired, timid young stranger.</p> +<p>“It must be something terrible, I’m sure!” cried Sara, +when she heard the madame had sent for Daisy; while poor +Daisy’s hand trembled so––she could scarcely tell why––that +she could hardly bind up the golden curls that fell down to +her waist in a wavy, shining sheen.</p> +<p>Daisy never once dreamed her letter was the cause of her +unexpected summons, until she entered Mme. Whitney’s presence +and saw it opened––yes, opened––her own sacred, loving +letter to Rex––in her hand.</p> +<p>Daisy was impulsive, and her first thought was to grasp her +precious letter and flee to her own room. How dared the madame +open the precious letter she had intended only for Rex’s +eyes!</p> +<p>“Miss Brooks,” began madame, impressively, “I suppose +I am right in believing this epistle belongs to you?”</p> +<p>A great lump rose in Daisy’s throat.</p> +<p>“Yes, madame,” answered Daisy, raising her dark-blue +eyes pleadingly to the stern face before her.</p> +<p>“And may I ask by what right you dared violate the rules +and regulations of this establishment by sending a sealed letter +to––a man? Your guardian strictly informed me you had no +correspondents whatever, and I find this is a––I blush to confess +it––actually a love-letter. What have you to say in reference +to your folly, Miss Brooks?”</p> +<p>“I’m sure I don’t know,” sobbed Daisy.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></div> +<p>“You don’t know?” repeated madame, scornfully. “Not +a very satisfactory explanation. Well, Miss Brooks, I have +fully determined what steps I shall take in the matter. I +shall read this letter this morning before the whole school; it +will afford me an excellent opportunity to point out the horrible +depths to which young girls are plunged by allowing their +minds to wander from their books to such thoughts as are here +expressed. What do you mean by this secret to which you +allude so often?” she asked, suddenly.</p> +<p>“Please do not ask me, madame,” sobbed Daisy; “I can +not tell you––indeed I can not. I dare not!”</p> +<p>An alarming thought occurred to madame.</p> +<p>“Speak, girl!” she cried, hoarsely, grasping her firmly by +the shoulder. “I must know the meaning of this secret +which is so appalling. You fear to reveal it! Does your +guardian know of it?”</p> +<p>“No––o!” wailed Daisy; “I could not tell him. I must +keep the secret.”</p> +<p>Poor little innocent Daisy! her own words had convicted her +beyond all pardon in the eyes of shrewd, suspicious Mme. +Whitney, who guessed, as is usually the case, wide of the +mark, as to the cause of the secret Daisy dare not to reveal to +her guardian or herself.</p> +<p>“My duty is plain in this case,” said madame. “I shall +read this as a terrible warning to the young ladies of this institution; +then I will send for Mr. John Brooks, your guardian, +and place this letter in his hands.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, madame, in pity’s name, no!” sobbed Daisy, +wildly, kneeling imploringly at her feet, her heart beating +tumultuously, and her hands locked convulsively together. +“Do not, madame, I pray you; anything but that; he would +cast me out of his heart and home, and I––I could not go to +Rex, you see.”</p> +<p>But madame did not see. She laughed a little hard, +metallic laugh that grated, oh, so cruelly, on Daisy’s sensitive +nerves.</p> +<p>When one woman’s suspicions are aroused against another, +Heaven help the suspected one; there is little mercy shown her.</p> +<p>“Man’s inhumanity to man” is nothing compared to woman’s +inhumanity to woman.</p> +<p>Mme. Whitney had discovered a capital way to score a hit +in the direction of morality.</p> +<p>“No,” she said, laying the letter down on the table before +her. “Arise from your knees, Miss Brooks. Your prayers +are useless. I think this will be a life-long lesson to you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span></div> +<p>“Oh, madame, for the love of Heaven!” cried Daisy, rocking +herself to and fro, “spare me, I beseech you! Can nothing +alter your purpose?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said madame, reflectively, “I may not be quite +so severe with you if you will confess, unreservedly, the whole +truth concerning this terrible secret, and what this young man +Rex is to you.”</p> +<p>“I can not,” wailed Daisy, “I can not. Oh, my heart is +breaking, yet I dare not.”</p> +<p>“Very well,” said madame, rising, indicating the conversation +was at an end, “I shall not press you further on the subject. +I will excuse you now, Miss Brooks. You may retire to +your room.”</p> +<p>Still Daisy rocked herself to and fro on her knees at her +feet. Suddenly a daring thought occurred to her. The letter +which had caused her such bitter woe lay on the table almost +within her very grasp––the letter, every line of which breathed +of her pure, sacred love for Rex––her Rex––whom she dared +not even claim. She could imagine madame commenting +upon every word and sentence, ridiculing those tender expressions +which had been such rapturous joy to her hungry little +heart as she had penned them. And, last of all, and far the +most bitter thought, how dear old John Brooks would turn his +honest eyes upon her tell-tale face, demanding to know what +the secret was––the secret which she had promised her young +husband she would not reveal, come what would. If his face +should grow white and stern, and those lips, which had blessed, +praised, and petted, but never scolded her––if those lips should +curse her, she would die then and there at his feet. In an instant +she had resolved upon a wild, hazardous plan. Quick +as a flash of lightning Daisy sprung to her feet and tore the +coveted letter from madame’s detaining grasp; the door stood +open, and with the fleetness of a hunted deer she flew down +the corridor, never stopping for breath until she had gained +the very water’s edge.</p> +<p>Mme. Whitney gave a loud shriek and actually fainted, and +the attendant, who hurried to the scene, caught but a glimpse +of a white, terrified, beautiful face, and a cloud of flying golden +hair. No one in that establishment ever gazed upon the face +of Daisy Brooks again!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX' id='CHAPTER_IX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +</div> +<p>“Where is Miss Brooks?” cried Mme. Whitney, excitedly, +upon opening her eyes. “Jenkins,” she cried, motioning to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +the attendant who stood nearest her, “see that Miss Brooks is +detained in her own room under lock and key until I am at +liberty to attend to her case.”</p> +<p>The servants looked at one another in blank amazement. +No one dared tell her Daisy had fled.</p> +<p>The torn envelope, which Daisy had neglected to gain possession +of, lay at her feet.</p> +<p>With a curious smile Mme. Whitney smoothed it out carefully, +and placed it carefully away in her private desk.</p> +<p>“Rex Lyon,” she mused, knitting her brow. “Ah, yes, +that was the name, I believe. He must certainly be the one. +Daisy Brooks shall suffer keenly for this outrage,” cried the +madame, grinding her teeth with impotent rage. “I shall +drag her pride down to the very dust beneath my feet. How +dare the little rebel defy my orders? I shall have her removed +to the belfry-room; a night or two there will humble her pride, +I dare say,” fumed the madame, pacing up and down the +room. “I have brought worse tempers than hers into subjection; +still I never dreamed the little minx would dare openly +defy <i>me</i> in that manner. I shall keep her in the belfry-room, +under lock and key, until she asks my pardon on her bended +knees; and what is more, I shall wrest the secret from her––the +secret she has defied me to discover.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>On sped Daisy, as swift as the wind, crushing the fatal letter +in her bosom, until she stood at the very edge of the broad, +glittering Chesapeake. The rosy-gold rays of the rising sun +lighted up the waves with a thousand arrowy sparkles like a +vast sea of glittering, waving gold. Daisy looked over her +shoulder, noting the dark forms hurrying to and fro.</p> +<p>“They are searching for me,” she said, “but I will never +go back to them––never!”</p> +<p>She saw a man’s form hurrying toward her. At that moment +she beheld, moored in the shadow of a clump of alders +at her very feet, a small boat rocking to and fro with the tide. +Daisy had a little boat of her own at home; she knew how to +use the oars.</p> +<p>“They will never think of looking for me out on the water,” +she cried, triumphantly, and quickly untying it, she sprung +into the little skiff, and seizing the oars, with a vigorous stroke +the little shell shot rapidly out into the shimmering water, +Daisy never once pausing in her mad, impetuous flight until +the dim line of the shore was almost indistinguishable from the +blue arching dome of the horizon. “There,” she cried, flushed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +and excited, leaning on the oars; “no one could possibly think +of searching for me out here.”</p> +<p>Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes danced like stars, +while the freshening breeze blew her bright shining hair to +and fro.</p> +<p>Many a passing fisherman cast admiring glances at the +charming little fairy, so sweet and so daring, out all alone on +the smiling, treacherous, dancing waves so far away from the +shore. But if Daisy saw them, she never heeded them.</p> +<p>“I shall stay here until it is quite dark,” she said to herself; +“they will have ceased to look for me by that time. +I can reach the shore quite unobserved, and watch for Sara to +get my hat and sacque; and then”––a rosy flush stole up to +the rings of her golden hair as she thought what she would do +then––“I shall go straight back to Rex––my husband!”</p> +<p>She knew John Brooks would not return home for some +time to come, and she would not go back to Septima. She +made up her mind she would certainly go to Rex. She would +wait at the depot, and, if Rex did not come in on the early +train, she would go back at once to Allendale. Her purse, +with twenty dollars in it––which seemed quite a fortune to +Daisy––was luckily in her pocket, together with half of an +apple and a biscuit. The healthful exercise of rowing, together +with the fresh, cool breeze, gave Daisy a hearty appetite, and +the apple and biscuit afforded her quite a pleasant lunch.</p> +<p>Poor Daisy! The pretty little girl-bride had no more +thought of danger than a child. She had no premonition that +every moment the little boat, drifting rapidly along with the +tide, was bearing her rapidly onward toward death and destruction.</p> +<p>Daisy paid little heed to the dark rolling clouds that were +slowly obscuring the brilliant sunshine, or the swirl and dash +of the waves that were rocking her little boat so restlessly to +and fro. The hours seemed to slip heedlessly by her. The +soft gloaming seemed to fall about her swiftly and without +warning.</p> +<p>“I must turn my boat about at once!” cried Daisy, in +alarm. “I am quite a long way from the shore!”</p> +<p>At that moment the distant rumbling roar of thunder sounded +dismally over the leaden-gray, white-capped water; and the +wind, rising instantly into a fierce gale, hurled the dark storm-clouds +across the sky, blotting the lurid glow of sunset and +mantling the heavens above her in its dusky folds.</p> +<p>Daisy was brave of heart, but in the face of such sudden and +unlooked-for danger her courage failed her. The pretty rose-bloom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +died away from her face, and her beautiful blue eyes +expanded wide with terror. She caught her breath with a sob, +and, seizing the oar with two soft, childish hands, made a desperate +attempt to turn the boat. The current resisted her +weak effort, snapping the oar in twain like a slender twig and +whirling it from her grasp.</p> +<p>“Rex! Rex!” she cried out, piteously, stretching out her +arms, “save me! Oh, I am lost––lost! Heaven pity me!”</p> +<p>The night had fallen swiftly around her. Out, alone, on the +wild, pitiless, treacherous waves––alone with the storm and +the darkness!</p> +<p>The storm had now commenced in earnest, beating furiously +against the little boat, and lashing the mad waves into seething +foam as they dashed high above the terrified girl. No +sound could be heard above the wild warring of the elements––the +thunder’s roar, the furious lashing of the waves and the +white, radiant lightning blazing across the vast expanse of +water, making the scene sublime in its terrible grandeur.</p> +<p>“Rex! my love, my life!” she cried, in the intense agony +of despair, “you will never know how well I loved you! I +have faced death rather than betray the sweet, sad secret––I +am your wife!”</p> +<p>Was it the wild flashing of the lightning, or was it a red +light she saw swinging to and fro, each moment drawing +rapidly nearer and nearer? Heaven be praised! it was a barge +of some kind; help was within her reach.</p> +<p>“Help!” cried Daisy, faintly. “Help! I am alone out on +the water!” she held out her arms toward the huge vessel +which loomed up darkly before her, but the terrified voice was +drowned by the fierce beating of the storm.</p> +<p>Suddenly her little boat spun round and round, the swift +water was drawing her directly in the path of the barge; another +moment and it would be upon her; she beat the air with +her white hands, gazing with frozen horror at the fatal lights +drawing nearer and nearer.</p> +<p>“Rex, my love, good-bye!” she wailed, sinking down in the +bottom of the boat as one end of the barge struck it with tremendous +force.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Leaning over the railing, evidently unmindful of the fierce +fury of the storm that raged around him, stood a young man, +gazing abstractedly over the wild dashing waves. A dark smile +played about the corners of his mouth, and his restless eyes +wore a pleased expression, as though his thoughts were in keeping +with the wild, warring elements.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span></div> +<p>Suddenly, through the terrible roar of the storm, he heard a +piteous appeal for help, and the voice seemed to die away over +the angry, muttering waves. He leaned over the railing +breathless with excitement. The thunder crashed almost incessantly, +and there came a stunning bolt, followed by a blinding +blaze of lightning. In that one instant he had seen a +white, childish face, framed in a mass of floating golden hair, +turned toward him.</p> +<p>One instant more and she would be swept beneath the ponderous +wheel, beyond all mortal power of help; then the dark, +hungry waters closed cruelly over her, but in that one instantaneous +glance the man’s face had turned deadly pale.</p> +<p>“Great God!” he shrieked, hoarsely, “it is Daisy Brooks!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_X' id='CHAPTER_X'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> +</div> +<p>On the evening which followed the one just described in our +last chapter, Pluma Hurlhurst sat in her luxuriant boudoir of +rose and gold, deeply absorbed in the three letters which she +held in her lap. To one was appended the name of Septima +Brooks, one was from Rex’s mother, and the last––and by far +the most important one––bore the signature of Lester Stanwick.</p> +<p>Once, twice, thrice she perused it, each time with growing +interest, the glittering light deepening in her dark, flashing +eyes, and the red lips curling in a scornful smile.</p> +<p>“This is capital!” she cried, exultingly; “even better than +I had planned. I could not see my way clear before, but now +everything is clear sailing.” She crossed over to the mirror, +looking long and earnestly at the superb figure reflected there. +“I am fair to look upon,” she cried, bitterly. “Why can not +Rex love me?”</p> +<p>Ah! she was fair to look upon, standing beneath the softened +glow of the overhanging chandelier, in her dress of gold +brocade, with a pomegranate blossom on her bosom, and a diamond +spray flashing from the dark, glossy curls, magnificently +beautiful.</p> +<p>“I was so sure of Rex,” she said, bitterly; “if any one had +said to me, ‘Rex prefers your overseer’s niece, Daisy Brooks, +with her baby face and pink-and-white beauty,’ I would have +laughed them to scorn. Prefers her to me, the haughty heiress +of Whitestone Hall, for whose love, or even smile, men +have sued in vain! I have managed the whole affair very cleverly!” +she mused. “John Brooks does not return before the +coming spring, and Septima is removed from my path most +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +effectually, and if Lester Stanwick manages his part successfully, +I shall have little to fear from Daisy Brooks! How +clever Lester was to learn Rex had been to the Detective +Agency! How he must have loved that girl!” she cried, hotly, +with a darkening brow. “Ah, Rex!” she whispered, +softly (and for an instant the hard look died out of her face), +“no one shall take you from me. I would rather look +upon your face cold in death, and know no one else could claim +you, than see you smile lovingly upon a rival. There is no +torture under heaven so bitter to endure as the pangs of a love +unreturned!” she cried, fiercely. She threw open the window +and leaned far out into the radiant starlight, as the great clock +pealed the hour of seven. “Rex has received my note,” she +said, “with the one from his mother inclosed. Surely he will +not refuse my request. He will come, if only through politeness!” +Again she laughed, that low, mocking laugh peculiar +to her, as she heard the peal of the bell. “It is Rex,” she +whispered, clasping her hands over her beating heart. “To-night +I will sow the first seeds of distrust in your heart, and +when they take root you shall despise Daisy Brooks a thousand-fold +more than you love her now. She shall feel the keen +thrust of a rival’s bitter vengeance!”</p> +<p>Casting a last lingering glance (so woman-like!) at the perfect +face the mirror reflected, to give her confidence in herself +for the coming ordeal, Pluma Hurlhurst glided down to the +parlor, where Rex awaited her.</p> +<p>It would have been hard to believe the proud, willful, polished +young heiress could lend herself to a plot so dark and so +cruel as the one she was at that moment revolving in her fertile +brain.</p> +<p>Rex was standing at the open window, his handsome head +leaning wearily against the casement. His face was turned +partially toward her, and Pluma could scarcely repress the cry +of astonishment that rose to her lips as she saw how pale and +haggard he looked in the softened light. She knew but too +well the cause.</p> +<p>He was quite unaware of Pluma’s presence until a soft, +white, jeweled hand was laid lightly on his arm, and a low, +musical voice whispered, “I am so glad you have come, Rex,” +close to his elbow.</p> +<p>They had parted under peculiar circumstances. He could +fancy her at that moment kneeling to him, under the glare of +the lamp-light, confessing her love for him, and denouncing +poor little clinging Daisy with such bitter scorn. His present +position was certainly an embarrassing one to Rex.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></div> +<p>“I am here in accordance with your request, Miss Hurlhurst,” +he said, simply, bowing coldly over the white hand +that would cling to his arm.</p> +<p>“You are very kind,” she said, sweetly, “to forget that +unpleasant little episode that happened at the fête, and come +to-night. I believe I should never have sent for you,” she +added, archly, smiling up into his face, “had it not been at +the urgent request of your mother, Rex.”</p> +<p>Pluma hesitated. Rex bit his lip in annoyance, but he was +too courteous to openly express his thoughts; he merely bowed +again. He meant Pluma should understand all thoughts of love +or tenderness must forever more be a dead letter between +them.</p> +<p>“My mother!” he repeated, wonderingly; “pardon me, I +do not understand.”</p> +<p>For answer she drew his mother’s letter from her bosom and +placed it in his hands.</p> +<p>He ran his eyes quickly over the page. The postscript +seemed to enlighten him.</p> +<p>“The course of true love never runs smooth,” it ran, “and +I beseech you, Pluma dear, if anything should ever happen, +any shadow fall upon your love, I beseech you send for Rex +and place this letter in his hands. It would not be unwomanly, +Pluma, because I, his mother, so earnestly request it; for, on +your love for each other hangs my hopes of happiness. Rex +is impulsive and willful, but he will respect his mother’s +wishes.”</p> +<p>No thought of treachery ever crossed Rex’s mind as he read +the lines before him; he never once dreamed the ingeniously +worded postscript had been so cleverly imitated and added by +Pluma’s own hand. It never occurred to him for an instant +to doubt the sincerity of the words he read, when he knew +how dearly his mother loved the proud, haughty heiress before +him.</p> +<p>“I heard you were going away, Rex,” she said, softly, +“and I––I could not let you go so, and break my own heart.”</p> +<p>“In one sense, I am glad you sent for me,” said Rex, +quietly ignoring her last remark. “I shall be much pleased +to renew our friendship, Miss Pluma, for I need your friendship––nay, +more, I need your sympathy and advice more than +I can express. I have always endeavored to be frank with you, +Pluma,” he said, kindly. “I have never spoken words which +might lead you to believe I loved you.”</p> +<p>He saw her face grow white under his earnest gaze and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +white lace on her bosom rise and fall convulsively, yet she +made him no answer.</p> +<p>“Please permit me to tell you why, Pluma,” he said, taking +her hand and leading her to a sofa, taking a seat by her +side. “I could not,” he continued, “in justice to either you +or myself; for I never knew what love was,” he said, softly, +“until the night of the fête.” Again he paused; but, as no +answer was vouchsafed him, he went on: “I never knew what +love meant until I met Daisy––little Daisy Brooks.”</p> +<p>“Rex!” cried Pluma, starting to her feet, “you know not +what you say––surely you do not know! I would have warned +you, but you would not listen. I saw you drifting toward a +yawning chasm; I stretched out my arms to save you, but you +would not heed me. You are a stranger to the people around +here, Rex, or they would have warned you. Sin is never so +alluring as in the guise of a beautiful woman. It is not too +late yet. Forget Daisy Brooks; she is not a fit companion for +noble Rex Lyon, or pure enough to kiss an honest man’s +lips.”</p> +<p>“For God’s sake, Miss Hurlhurst, what do you mean?” +cried Rex, slowly rising from his seat and facing her, pale as +death. “In Heaven’s name, explain the accusations you have +just uttered, or I shall go mad! If a man had uttered those +words, I would have––”</p> +<p>The words died away on his lips; he remembered he was +talking to a woman. Rex’s eyes fairly glowed with rage as he +turned on his heel and strode rapidly up and down the room.</p> +<p>“Rex,” said Pluma, softly advancing a step toward him, +“it always grieves a true woman to admit the error of a fallen +sister––they would shield her if such a thing were possible.”</p> +<p>“I do not believe it,” retorted Rex, impetuously. “Women +seem to take a keen delight in slandering one another, as far +as I can see. But you might as well tell me yonder moon was +treacherous and vile as to tell me Daisy Brooks was aught but +sweet and pure––you could not force me to believe it.”</p> +<p>“I do not attempt to force you to believe it. I have told +you the truth, as a loving sister might have done. None are +so blind as those who will not see,” she said, toying with the +jewels upon her white fingers.</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks is as pure as yonder lily,” cried Rex, “and +I love her as I love my soul!”</p> +<p>His quivering, impassioned voice thrilled Pluma to her +heart’s core, and she felt a keen regret that this wealth of love +was withheld from her own hungry heart. Rex had never appeared +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +so noble, so handsome, so well worth winning, in her +eyes, as at that moment.</p> +<p>“I am sorry for you, Rex,” sobbed Pluma, artfully burying +her face in her lace kerchief, “because she can never return +your love; she does not love you, Rex.”</p> +<p>“Yes, she does love me,” cried Rex. “I have settled +it beyond a doubt.”</p> +<p>“She has settled it beyond a doubt––is not that what you +mean, Rex?” she asked, looking him squarely in the face, +with a peculiar glitter in her sparkling dark eyes.</p> +<p>“There is something you are keeping from me, Pluma,” +cried Rex, seizing both of her hands, and gazing anxiously into +the false, fair, smiling, treacherous face. “You know where +Daisy has gone––in Heaven’s name, tell me! I can not endure +the suspense––do not torture me, Pluma! I will forget you +have spoken unkindly of poor little Daisy if you will only tell +me where she has gone.”</p> +<p>“Sit down, Rex,” she said, soothingly; “I will not dare +tell you while you look at me with such a gleaming light in +your eyes. Promise not to interrupt me to the end.”</p> +<p>A nameless dread was clutching at his heart-strings. What +could she mean? he asked himself, confusedly. What did this +foul mystery mean? He must know, or he would go mad!</p> +<p>“You may speak out unreservedly, Miss Pluma,” he said, +hoarsely. “I give you my word, as a gentleman, I shall not +interrupt you, even though your words should cause me a bitter +heart-pang.”</p> +<p>He stood before her, his arms folded across his breast, yet +no pang of remorse crept into Pluma Hurlhurst’s relentless +heart for the cruel blow she was about to deal him.</p> +<p>“I must begin at the time of the lawn fête,” she said. +“That morning a woman begged to see me, sobbing so piteously +I could not refuse her an audience. No power of words +could portray the sad story of suffering and wrong she poured +into my ears, of a niece––beautiful, young, passionate, and +willful––and of her prayers and useless expostulations, and of +a handsome, dissolute lover to whom the girl was passionately +attached, and of elopements she had frustrated, alas! more +than once. Ah! how shall I say it!––the lover was not a marrying +man.”</p> +<p>Pluma stopped short, and hid her face again in her kerchief +as if in utter confusion.</p> +<p>“Go on––go on!” cried Rex, hoarsely.</p> +<p>“‘Lend me money,’ cried the woman, ‘that I may protect +the girl by sending her off to school at once. Kind +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +lady, she is young, like you, and I beg you on my knees!’ +I gave the woman the required amount, and the girl was taken +to school the very next day. But the end was not there. The +lover followed the girl––there must have been a preconcerted +plan between them––and on the morning after she had entered +school she fled from it––fled with her lover. That lover was +Lester Stanwick––gay, fascinating, perfidious Lester––whom +you know but too well. Can you not guess who the girl was, +Rex?”</p> +<p>The dark eyes regarding her were frozen with horror, his +white lips moved, but no sound issued from them. She leaned +nearer to him, her dark, perfumed hair swept across his face +as she whispered, with startling effect:</p> +<p>“The girl was Daisy Brooks, and she is at this moment in +company with her lover! Heaven pity you, Rex; you must +learn to forget her.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI' id='CHAPTER_XI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +</div> +<p>When Daisy Brooks opened her eyes, she found herself +lying on a white bed, and in a strange apartment which she +never remembered having seen before. For one brief instant +she quite imagined the terrible ordeal through which she had +passed was but a dream. Then it all came back to her with +cruel distinctness.</p> +<p>“Where am I?” she cried, struggling up to a sitting posture, +and putting back the tangled golden hair from her face. +“How came I here? Who saved me from the terrible dark +water?”</p> +<p>“I did,” answered a young man, rising from his seat by the +open window. “I saved your life at the risk of my own. +Look up into my face, Daisy, and see if you do not remember +me.”</p> +<p>She lifted her blue eyes to the dark, handsome, smiling face +before her. Yes, she had seen that face before, but she could +not remember where.</p> +<p>He laughed, disclosing his handsome white teeth.</p> +<p>“You can not guess, eh?” he said. “Then it is certainly +evident I did not make much of an impression upon you. I +am disappointed. I will not keep you in suspense, however. +We met at Whitestone Hall, on the night of the lawn fête, and +my name is Lester Stanwick.”</p> +<p>Ah, she <i>did</i> remember him, standing beneath a waving +palm-tree, his bold, dark eyes following her every motion, +while she was waltzing with Rex.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></div> +<p>He saw the flash of recognition in her eyes, and the blush +that mantled her fair, sweet face.</p> +<p>“I am very grateful to you, sir, for saving me. But won’t +you take me home, please? I don’t want to go back to Madame +Whitney’s.”</p> +<p>“Of course not,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, “when +you left it in such a remarkable manner as running away.”</p> +<p>“How did you know I ran away?” asked Daisy, flushing +hotly.</p> +<p>“Madame Whitney has advertised for you,” he responded, +promptly.</p> +<p>Although he well knew what he uttered was a deliberate +falsehood, he merely guessed the little wild bird had grown +weary of the restraint, and had flown away.</p> +<p>“Did she do that?” asked Daisy, thoroughly alarmed, her +great blue eyes dilating with fear. “Oh, Mr. Stanwick, what +shall I do? I do not want to go back. I would sooner die first.”</p> +<p>“There is no occasion for you to do either,” he replied. +“You are in good hands. Stay here until the storm blows +over. In all probability the madame has sent detectives out in +all directions searching for you.”</p> +<p>Daisy was so young, so unsuspecting, so artless, and knew so +little of the ways of the world or its intriguing people that +she quite believed his assertion.</p> +<p>“Oh, what shall I do?” she sobbed, covering her face with +her hands. “Oh, I <i>must</i> go back to Uncle John, and––to––to––”</p> +<p>Stanwick had no idea she meant Rex. He took it for granted +she meant John Brooks and Septima.</p> +<p>“It is quite uncertain when John Brooks returns to Allendale,” +he said; “and I suppose you are aware his sister has +also left the place––gone, no one knows whither––the Brookses’ +cottage on the brow of the hill stands empty.”</p> +<p>“Gone!” cried Daisy, catching her breath swift and hard, +“did you say, sir? Aunt Septima has gone––no one lives in +the cottage?” Poor Daisy quite believed she was losing her +senses.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Stanwick, smothering a low, malicious laugh, +“that is what I said; but I am quite surprised that it is news +to you. You are all alone in the world, you see. Of course +you could not go back to Allendale. You can do no better +than stay in your present quarters for at least a week or so, +until you fully recover from your mad frolic on the water and +gain a little strength.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></div> +<p>“Where am I?” asked Daisy, “and how did I get here? +and who lives here?”</p> +<p>“One question at a time, if you please,” laughed Stanwick, +gazing admiringly at the beautiful, questioning, eager face.</p> +<p>“I suppose,” he began, with provoking coolness, “you +have been filling that little head of yours with romantic ideas +of running away from school, and sailing far out to sea, and +straight into the arms of some handsome hero who would save +you, and would carry you off to some castle, and turn out to +be a prince in disguise! That’s the way they usually turn out, +isn’t it? But you found the theory did not work very well in +real life, and your little romance came near costing you your +life––eh, Miss Daisy? As for the second question, I rescued +you, just in the nick of time, by jumping into the turbulent +waves and bearing you out of harm’s way and keeping that +little romantic head of yours above water until the barge could +be stopped, and you were then brought on board. I recognized +you at once,” he continued; “and to prevent suspicion +and inquiry, which would have been sure to follow, I claimed +you––as my wife! Do not be alarmed,” he said, as a sharp, +horrified cry rose to the red lips. “I simply did that in order +to protect you from being returned at once in bitter disgrace +to Madame Whitney’s. Not knowing what else to do with you +when the boat landed, I brought you here, and here you have +been ever since, quite unconscious up to date.”</p> +<p>“Was it last night you brought me here?” asked Daisy.</p> +<p>“You are not good at guessing. You have been here two +nights and two days.”</p> +<p>“But who lives here?” persisted Daisy. “Is this your +house?”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, no,” laughed Stanwick. “Upon my honor, +you are not very complimentary to my taste,” he said, glancing +around the meagerly furnished apartment. “As near as +I can understand it, the house is occupied by three grim old +maids. Each looks to be the twin of the other. This was the +first shelter I could find, and I had carried you all the way +from the boat in my arms, and under the circumstances, after +much consulting, they at last agreed to allow you to remain +here. Now you have the whole story in a nutshell.”</p> +<p>“Why did they not send to Septima to come to me?” she +asked presently.</p> +<p>“Because they thought you were with your best protector––your +husband.”</p> +<p>“Did you tell them that here, too?” asked Daisy, growing +white and ill with a dizzy horror. “Oh, Mr. Stanwick, send +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +for them at once, and tell them it is not so, or I must!” she +added, desperately.</p> +<p>“You must do nothing of the kind, you silly child. Do +you suppose they would have sheltered you for a single instant +if they had not believed you were my wife? You do not know +the ways of the world. Believe me, it was the only course I +could pursue, in that awkward dilemma, without bringing disgrace +and detection upon you.”</p> +<p>As if in answer to the question that was trembling upon +Daisy’s lips, he continued:</p> +<p>“I am stopping at a boarding-place some little distance +from here. This is not Baltimore, but a little station some +sixty miles from there. When you are well and strong you +may go where you please, although I frankly own the situation +is by no means an unpleasant one for me. I would be willing +to stay here always––with you.”</p> +<p>“Sir!” cried Daisy, flushing as red as the climbing roses +against the window, her blue eyes blazing up with sudden fire, +“do you mean to insult me?”</p> +<p>“By no means,” responded Lester Stanwick, eagerly. “Indeed, +I respect and honor you too much for that. Why, I +risked my life to save yours, and shielded your honor with my +name. Had I been your husband in very truth I could not +have done more.”</p> +<p>Daisy covered her face with her hands.</p> +<p>“I thank you very much for saving me,” she sobbed, “but +won’t you please go away now and leave me to myself?”</p> +<p><i>Roué</i> and villain as Lester Stanwick was, he could not help +feeling touched by the innocence and beauty of little Daisy, +and from that instant he loved her with a wild, absorbing, passionate +love, and he made a vow, then and there, that he would +win her.</p> +<p>From their boyhood up Rex and Lester had been rivals. At +college Rex had carried off the honors with flying colors. +Pluma Hurlhurst, the wealthy heiress, had chosen Rex in +preference to himself. He stood little chance with bright-eyed +maidens compared with handsome, careless, winning Rex Lyon.</p> +<p>Quite unobserved, he had witnessed the meeting between +Rex and Daisy at the fountain, and how tenderly he clasped +her in his arms as they waltzed together in the mellow light, +to the delicious strains of the “Blue Danube,” and knowing +Rex as well as he did, he knew for the first time in life Rex’s +heart was touched.</p> +<p>“It would be a glorious revenge,” Stanwick had muttered +to himself, “if I could win her from him.” Then a sordid +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +motive of revenge alone prompted him––now he was beginning +to experience the sweet thrillings of awakened love himself. +Yes, he had learned to love Daisy for her own sweet self.</p> +<p>He smiled as he thought of the last words Pluma Hurlhurst +had said to him: “Revenge is sweet, Lester, when love is +turned to bitter hatred. Help me to drag Rex Lyon’s pride as +low as he has this night dragged mine, and you shall have my +hand as your reward. My father is an invalid––he can not +live much longer––then you will be master of Whitestone +Hall.” As he had walked down the broad gravel path, running +his eye over the vast plantation stretching afar on all +sides, like a field of snow, as the moonlight fell upon the waving +cotton, he owned to himself it was a fair domain well worth +the winning.</p> +<p>But as he stood there, gazing silently down upon little +Daisy’s face––how strange it was––he would have given up +twenty such inheritances for the hope of making sweet little +Daisy Brooks his wife.</p> +<p>It was well for Daisy Brooks he little dreamed of the great +barrier which lay between them, shutting him out completely +from all thoughts of love in Daisy’s romantic heart.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII' id='CHAPTER_XII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +</div> +<p>“Please go away,” sobbed Daisy. “Leave me to myself, +and I will get up.”</p> +<p>“Very well,” said Stanwick, involuntarily raising her little +white hands courteously to his lips; “and remember, I warn +you, for your own sake, not to dispute the assertion I have +made––that you are my wife.”</p> +<p>“Why?” asked Daisy, wistfully. “They will forgive me +when I tell them how it all came about.”</p> +<p>“You do not know women’s ways,” he replied. “They +would hand you over at once to the authorities; you would bring +disgrace and ruin upon your own head, and bitter shame to +John Brooks’s heart. I know him well enough to believe he +would never forgive you. On the other hand, when you feel +well enough to depart, you can simply say you are going away +with your husband. No one will think of detaining you; you +will be free as the wind to go where you will. It will cost you +but a few words. Remember, there are occasions when it is +necessary to prevaricate in order to prevent greater evils––this +is one of them.”</p> +<p>Daisy could not dispute this specious logic, and she suffered +herself to be persuaded against her will and better judgment. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +She was dreadfully homesick, poor little soul! and to go back +to Allendale, to Rex, was the one wish of her heart. But +would he clasp her in his arms if a shadow of disgrace blotted +her fair name? She would go back to him and kneel at his +feet, and tell him why she had left Mme. Whitney’s. She +certainly meant to tell him of all that followed, and, with +her little, warm cheek pressed close to his, ask him if she had +done right.</p> +<p>At that moment the door of an adjoining room opened, and +Lester observed the three ladies standing in a row in the door-way. +He knew that three pairs of eyes were regarding him +intently through as many pairs of blue glasses.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, my little wife,” he said, raising his voice for +their benefit; “I’m off now. I shall see you again to-morrow;” +and, before Daisy had the least idea of his intentions, +he had pressed a kiss upon her rosy lips and was gone.</p> +<p>The three ladies quickly advanced to the couch upon which +Daisy reclined.</p> +<p>“We are very glad to find you are so much better this +morning,” they exclaimed, all in a breath. “Your husband +has been almost demented about you, my dear.”</p> +<p>They wondered why the white face on the pillow turned so +pink, then faded to a dead white, and why the tear-drops +started to her beautiful blue eyes.</p> +<p>“I was telling my sisters,” pursued one of the ladies, softly, +“you were so young to be married––hardly more than a child. +How old are you, my dear––not more than sixteen, I suppose?”</p> +<p>“Sixteen and a few months,” answered Daisy.</p> +<p>“How long have you been married, my dear?” questioned +another of the sisters.</p> +<p>A great sob rose in Daisy’s throat as she remembered it was +just a week that very day since she had stood in the dim old +parlor at the rectory, while Rex clasped her hands, his handsome, +smiling eyes gazing so lovingly down upon her, while the +old minister spoke the words that bound them for life to each +other. It almost seemed to Daisy that long years had intervened, +she had passed through so much since then.</p> +<p>“Just a week to-day, madame,” she made answer.</p> +<p>“Why, you are a bride, then,” they all chorused. “Ah! +that accounts for your husband’s great anxiety about you. +We all agreed we had never seen a husband more devoted!”</p> +<p>Daisy hid her face in the pillow. She thought she would go +mad upon being so cruelly misunderstood. Oh! if she had +only dared throw herself into their arms and sob out her heartaches +on their bosoms. Yes, she was a bride, but the most +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +pitifully homesick, weary, disheartened little girl-bride that +ever the sun shone on in the wide, wild world.</p> +<p>They assisted Daisy to arise, brushing out her long, tangled, +golden curls, declaring to one another the pretty little creature +looked more like a merry, rosy-cheeked school-girl than a little +bride-wife, in her pink-and-white dotted muslin, which +they had in the meantime done up for her with their own +hands.</p> +<p>They wondered, too, why she never asked for her husband, +and she looked almost ready to faint when they spoke of him.</p> +<p>“There seems to be something of a mystery here,” remarked +one of the sisters when the trio were alone. “If that child is +a bride, she is certainly not a happy one. I do not like to +judge a fellow-creature––Heaven forbid! but I am sorely afraid +all is not right with her. Twice this afternoon, entering the +room quietly, I have found her lying face downward on the +sofa, crying as if her heart would break! I am sorely puzzled!”</p> +<p>And the flame of suspicion once lighted was not easily extinguished +in the hearts of the curious spinsters.</p> +<p>“‘Won’t you tell me your sorrow, my dear?’ I said.</p> +<p>“‘No, no; I dare not!’ she replied.</p> +<p>“‘Will you not confide in me, Mrs. Stanwick?’ I asked.</p> +<p>“She started up wildly, throwing her arms about my neck.</p> +<p>“‘Won’t you please call me Daisy?’ she sobbed, piteously; +‘just Daisy––nothing else.’</p> +<p>“‘Certainly, my dear, if you wish it,’ I replied. ‘There is +one question I would like to ask you, Daisy––you have told me +your mother is dead?’</p> +<p>“‘Yes,’ she said, leaning her golden head against the window, +and watching the white clouds overhead in the blue sky––‘my +poor, dear mother is dead!’</p> +<p>“‘Then will you answer me truthfully the question I am +about to ask you, Daisy, remembering your mother up in +heaven hears you.’</p> +<p>“She raised her blue eyes to mine.</p> +<p>“‘I shall answer truthfully any question you may put to +me,’ she said; ‘if––if––it is not about Mr. Stanwick.’</p> +<p>“‘It is about yourself, Daisy,’ I said, gravely. ‘Tell me +truthfully, child, are you really a wife?’</p> +<p>“She caught her breath with a hard, gasping sound; but +her blue eyes met mine unflinchingly.</p> +<p>“‘Yes, madame, I am, in the sight of God and man; but +I am such an unhappy one. I can not tell you why. My +heart is breaking. I want to go back to Allendale!’</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></div> +<p>“‘Is that where you live, Daisy?’</p> +<p>“‘Yes,’ she said; ‘I am going to start to-morrow morning.’"</p> +<p>“How strange!” echoed the two sisters.</p> +<p>“The strangest part of the affair is yet to come. The little +creature drew from her pocket a twenty-dollar bill.</p> +<p>“‘You have been kind and good to me,’ she said. I must +take enough to carry me back to Allendale. You shall have +all the rest, madame.’</p> +<p>“‘Put your money back into your pocket, Daisy,’ I replied. +‘Your husband has already paid your bill. He begged me to +accept it in advance on the night you came.’</p> +<p>“She gave a great start, and a flood of hot color rushed over +her face.</p> +<p>“‘I––I––did not know,’ she said, faintly, ‘how very good +Mr. Stanwick has been to me.’”</p> +<p>The three sisters looked at one another in silent wonder over +the rims of their spectacles and shook their heads ominously.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Dear reader, we must return at this period to Rex––poor, +broken-hearted Rex––whom we left in the company of Pluma +Hurlhurst in the spacious parlor of Whitestone Hall.</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks is at this moment with Lester Stanwick! +You must learn to forget her, Rex,” she repeated, slowly.</p> +<p>A low cry escaped from Rex’s lips, and he recoiled from her +as though she had struck him a heavy blow. His heart seemed +fairly stifled in his bosom, and he trembled in every limb with +repressed excitement.</p> +<p>“Here is a letter from Madame Whitney,” she continued. +“Read it for yourself, Rex. You see, she says: ‘Daisy fled. +It has been since ascertained she went to Elmwood, a station +some sixty miles from here, where she now is, at the cottage +of the Burton sisters, in company with her lover. I shall not +attempt to claim her––her retribution must come from another +source.’”</p> +<p>The words seemed to stand out in letters of fire.</p> +<p>“Oh, my little love,” he cried, “there must be some terrible +mistake! My God! my God! there must be some horrible +mistake––some foul conspiracy against you, my little sweetheart, +my darling love!”</p> +<p>He rose to his feet with a deep-drawn sigh, his teeth shut +close, his heart beating with great strangling throbs of pain. +Strong and brave as Rex was, this trouble was almost more +than he could bear.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></div> +<p>“Where are you going, Rex?” said Pluma, laying a detaining +hand upon his arm.</p> +<p>“I am going to Elmwood,” he cried, bitterly, “to prove +this accusation is a cruel falsehood. Daisy has no lover; she +is as sweet and pure as Heaven itself! I was mad to doubt +her for a single instant.”</p> +<p>“Judge for yourself, Rex––seeing is believing,” said Pluma, +maliciously, a smoldering vengeance burning in her flashing +eyes, and a cold, cruel smile flitting across her face, while she +murmured under her breath: “Go, fond, foolish lover; your +fool’s paradise will be rudely shattered––ay, your hopes crushed +worse than mine are now, for your lips can not wear a smile +like mine when your heart is breaking. Good-bye, Rex,” she +said, “and remember, in the hour when sorrow strikes you +keenest, turn to me; my friendship is true, and shall never fail +you.”</p> +<p>Rex bowed coldly and turned away; his heart was too sick for +empty words, and the heavy-hearted young man, who slowly +walked down the graveled path away from Whitestone Hall in +the moonlight, was as little like the gay, handsome Rex of one +short week ago as could well be imagined.</p> +<p>There was the scent of roses and honeysuckles in the soft +wind; and some sweet-voiced bird awakened from sleep, and +fancying it was day, swung to and fro amid the green foliage, +filling the night with melody. The pitying stars shone down +upon him from the moonlighted heavens; but the still, solemn +beauty of the night was lost upon Rex. He regretted––oh! so +bitterly––that he had parted from his sweet little girl-bride, +fearing his mother’s scornful anger, or through a sense of mistaken +duty.</p> +<p>“Had they but known little Daisy is my wife, they would +have known how impossible was their accusation that she was +with Lester Stanwick.”</p> +<p>He shuddered at the very thought of such a possibility.</p> +<p>The thought of Daisy, his little girl-bride, being sent to +school amused him.</p> +<p>“Poor little robin!” he murmured. “No wonder she flew +from her bondage when she found the cage-door open! How +pleased the little gypsy will be to see me!” he mused. “I +will clasp the dear little runaway in my arms, and never let +her leave me again! Mother could not help loving my little +Daisy if she were once to see her, and sister Birdie would take +to her at once.”</p> +<p>The next morning broke bright and clear; the sunshine +drifted through the green foliage of the trees, and crimson-breasted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +robins sung their sweetest songs in the swaying +boughs of the blossoming magnolias; pansies and buttercups +gemmed the distant hill-slope, and nature’s fountain––a merry, +babbling brook––danced joyously through the clover banks. +No cloud was in the fair, blue, smiling heavens; no voice of +nature warned poor little Daisy, as she stood at the open window +drinking in the pure, sweet beauty of the morning of the +dark clouds which were gathering over her innocent head, and +of the storm which was so soon to burst upon her in all its +fury. Daisy turned away from the window with a little sigh. +She did not see a handsome, stalwart figure hurrying down the +hill-side toward the cottage. How her heart would have +throbbed if she had only known Rex (for it was he) was so +near her! With a strangely beating heart he advanced toward +the little wicket gate, at which stood one of the sisters, busily +engaged pruning her rose-bushes.</p> +<p>“Can you tell me, madame, where I can find the Misses +Burton’s cottage?” he asked, courteously lifting his hat.</p> +<p>“This is the Burton cottage,” she answered, “and I am +Ruth Burton. What can I do for you?”</p> +<p>“I would like to see Daisy Brooks, if you please. She is +here, I believe?” he said, questioningly. “May I come in?”</p> +<p>Rex’s handsome, boyish face and winning smile won their +way straight to the old lady’s heart at once.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you are the young lady’s brother, sir? There is +evidently some mistake, however, as the young lady’s name is +Stanwick––Daisy Stanwick. Her husband, Lester Stanwick––I +believe that is the name––is also in Elmwood.”</p> +<p>All the color died out of Rex’s handsome face and the light +from his brown eyes. He leaned heavily against the gate-post. +The words seemed shrieked on the air and muttered on the +breeze.</p> +<p>“Daisy is <i>not</i> his wife! My God, madame!” he cried, +hoarsely, “she <i>could not</i> be!”</p> +<p>“It is very true,” replied the old lady, softly. “I have her +own words for it. There may be some mistake, as you say,” +she said, soothingly, noting the death-like despair that settled +over the noble face. “She is a pretty, fair, winsome little +creature, blue-eyed, and curling golden hair, and lives at +Allendale. She is certainly married. I will call her. She +shall tell you so herself. Daisy––Mrs. Stanwick––come here, +dear,” she called.</p> +<p>“I am coming, Miss Ruth,” answered a sweet, bird-like +voice, which pierced poor Rex’s heart to the very core as a girlish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +little figure bounded through the open door-way, out into +the brilliant sunshine.</p> +<p>“God pity me!” cried Rex, staggering forward. “It <i>is</i> +Daisy––my wife!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII' id='CHAPTER_XIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>Rex had hoped against hope.</p> +<p>“Daisy!” he cried, holding out his arms to her with a +yearning, passionate cry. “My God! tell me it is false––you +are <i>not</i> here with Stanwick––or I shall go mad! Daisy, my +dear little sweetheart, my little love, why don’t you speak?” +he cried, clasping her close to his heart and covering her face +and hair and hands with passionate, rapturous kisses.</p> +<p>Daisy struggled out of his embrace, with a low, broken sob, +flinging herself on her knees at his feet with a sharp cry.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” said the old lady, bending over her and smoothing +back the golden hair from the lovely anguished face, “tell +him the truth, dear. You are here with Mr. Stanwick; is it +not so?”</p> +<p>The sudden weight of sorrow that had fallen upon poor, +hapless Daisy seemed to paralyze her very senses. The sunshine +seemed blotted out, and the light of heaven to grow +dark around her.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she cried, despairingly; and it almost seemed to +Daisy another voice had spoken with her lips.</p> +<p>“This Mr. Stanwick claims to be your husband?” asked the +old lady, solemnly.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she cried out again, in agony, “but, Rex, I––I––”</p> +<p>The words died away on her white lips, and the sound died +away in her throat. She saw him recoil from her with a look +of white, frozen horror on his face which gave place to stern, +bitter wrath. Slowly and sadly he put her clinging arms +away from him, folding his arms across his breast with that +terrible look upon his face such as a hero’s face wears when he +has heard, unflinchingly, his death sentence––the calm of +terrible despair.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” he said, proudly, “I have trusted you blindly, +for I loved you madly, passionately. I would as soon believe +the fair smiling heavens that bend above us false as you whom +I loved so madly and so well. I was mad to bind you with +such cruel, irksome bonds when your heart was not mine but +another’s. My dream of love is shattered now. You have +broken my heart and ruined and blighted my life. God forgive +you, Daisy, for I never can! I give you back your freedom; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +I release you from your vows; I can not curse you––I +have loved you too well for that; I cast you from my heart as +I cast you from my life; farewell, Daisy––farewell forever!”</p> +<p>She tried to speak, but her tongue cleaved to the roof of her +mouth. Oh, pitying Heaven, if she could only have cried out +to you and the angels to bear witness and proclaim her innocence! +The strength to move hand or foot seemed suddenly to +have left her. She tried hard, oh! so hard, to speak, but no +sound issued from her white lips. She felt as one in a horrible +trance, fearfully, terribly conscious of all that transpired +around her, yet denied the power to move even a muscle to +defend herself.</p> +<p>“Have you anything to say to me, Daisy?” he asked, +mournfully, turning from her to depart.</p> +<p>The woful, terrified gaze of the blue eyes deepened pitifully, +but she spoke no word, and Rex turned from her––turned +from the girl-bride whom he loved so madly, with a bursting, +broken heart, more bitter to bear than death itself––left her +alone with the pitying sunlight falling upon her golden hair, +and her white face turned up to heaven, silently praying to +God that she might die then and there.</p> +<p>Oh, Father above, pity her! She had no mother’s gentle +voice to guide her, no father’s strong breast to weep upon, no +sister’s soothing presence. She was so young and so pitifully +lonely, and Rex had drifted out of her life forever, believing +her––oh, bitterest of thoughts!––believing her false and sinful.</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy was ignorant of the ways of the world; +but a dim realization of the full import of the terrible accusation +brought against her forced its way to her troubled brain.</p> +<p>She only realized––Rex––her darling Rex, had gone out of +her life forever.</p> +<p>Daisy flung herself face downward in the long, cool, waving +green grass where Rex had left her.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” called Miss Burton, softly, “it is all over; come +into the house, my dear.”</p> +<p>But she turned from her with a shuddering gasp.</p> +<p>“In the name of pity, leave me to myself,” she sobbed; +“it is the greatest kindness you can do me.”</p> +<p>And the poor old lady who had wrought so much sorrow +unwittingly in those two severed lives, walked slowly back to +the cottage, with tears in her eyes, strongly impressed there +must be some dark mystery in the young girl’s life who was +sobbing her heart out in the green grass yonder; and she did +just what almost any other person would have done under the +same circumstances––sent immediately for Lester Stanwick. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +He answered the summons at once, listening with intense +interest while the aged spinster briefly related all that had +transpired; but through oversight or excitement she quite forgot +to mention Rex had called Daisy his wife.</p> +<p>“Curse him!” he muttered, under his breath, “I––I believe +the girl actually cares for him.”</p> +<p>Then he went out to Daisy, lying so still and lifeless among +the pink clover and waving grass.</p> +<p>Poor Daisy! Poor, desperate, lonely, struggling child! All +this cruel load of sorrow, crushing her girlish heart, and +blighting her young life, and she so innocent, so entirely +blameless, yet such a plaything of fate.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” he said, bending over her and lifting the slight +form in his arms, “they tell me some one has been troubling +you. Who has dared annoy you? Trust in me, Daisy. What +is the matter?”</p> +<p>Lester Stanwick never forgot the white, pitiful face that was +raised to his.</p> +<p>“I want to die,” she sobbed. “Oh, why did you not leave +me to die in the dark water? it was so cruel of you to save +me.”</p> +<p>“Do you want to know why I risked my life to save you, +Daisy? Does not my every word and glance tell you why?” +The bold glance in his eyes spoke volumes. “Have you not +guessed that I love you, Daisy?”</p> +<p>“Oh, please do not talk to me in that way, Mr. Stanwick,” +she cried, starting to her feet in wild alarm. “Indeed you +must not,” she stammered.</p> +<p>“Why not?” he demanded, a merciless smile stirring beneath +his heavy mustache. “I consider that you belong to +me. I mean to make you my wife in very truth.”</p> +<p>Daisy threw up her hands in a gesture of terror heart-breaking +to see, shrinking away from him in quivering horror, +her sweet face ashen pale.</p> +<p>“Oh, go away, go away!” she cried out. “I am growing +afraid of you. I could never marry you, and I would not if I +could. I shall always be grateful to you for what you have +done for me, but, oh, go away, and leave me now, for my +trouble is greater than I can bear!”</p> +<p>“You would not if you could,” he repeated, coolly, smiling +so strangely her blood seemed to change to ice in her veins. +“I thank you sincerely for your appreciation of me. I did +not dream, however, your aversion to me was so deeply rooted. +That makes little difference, however. I shall make you my +wife this very day all the same; business, urgent business, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +calls me away from Elmwood to-day. I shall take you with +me as my wife.”</p> +<p>She heard the cruel words like one in a dream.</p> +<p>“Rex! Rex!” she sobbed, under her breath. Suddenly she +remembered Rex had left her––she was never to look upon his +face again. He had left her to the cold mercies of a cruel +world. Poor little Daisy––the unhappy, heart-broken girl-bride––sat +there wondering what else could happen to her. +“God has shut me out from His mercy,” she cried; “there is +nothing for me to do but to die.”</p> +<p>“I am a desperate man, Daisy,” pursued Stanwick, slowly. +“My will is my law. The treatment you receive at my +hands depends entirely upon yourself––you will not dare defy +me!” His eyes fairly glowed with a strange fire that appalled +her as she met his passionate glance.</p> +<p>Then Daisy lifted up her golden head with the first defiance +she had ever shown, the deathly pallor deepening on her fair, +sweet, flower-like face, and the look of a hunted deer at bay in +the beautiful velvety agonized eyes, as she answered:</p> +<p>“I refuse to marry you, Mr. Stanwick. Please go away +and leave me in peace.”</p> +<p>He laughed mockingly.</p> +<p>“I shall leave you for the present, my little sweetheart,” +he said, “but I shall return in exactly fifteen minutes. Hold +yourself in readiness to receive me then; I shall not come +alone, but bring with me a minister, who will be prepared to +marry us. I warn you not to attempt to run away,” he said, +interpreting aright the startled glance she cast about her. +“In yonder lane stands a trusty sentinel to see that you do +not leave this house. You have been guarded thus since you +entered this house; knowing your proclivity to escape impending +difficulties, I have prepared accordingly. You can not escape +your fate, my little wild flower!”</p> +<p>“No minister would marry an unwilling bride––he could +not. I would fling myself at his feet and tell him all, crying +out I was––I was––”</p> +<p>“You will do nothing of the kind,” he interrupted, a hard, +resolute look settling on his face. “I would have preferred +winning you by fair means, if possible; if you make it impossible +I shall be forced to a desperate measure. I had not intended +adopting such stringent measures, except in an extreme +case. Permit me to explain what I shall do to prevent you +from making the slightest outcry.” As he spoke he drew +from his pocket a small revolver heavily inlaid with pearl and +silver. “I shall simply hold this toy to your pretty forehead +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +to prevent a scene. The minister will be none the wiser––he +is blind? Do you think,” he continued, slowly, “that I am +the man to give up a thing I have set my heart upon for a +childish whim?”</p> +<p>“Believe me,” cried Daisy, earnestly, “it is no childish +whim. Oh, Mr. Stanwick, I want to be grateful to you––why +will you torture me until I hate you?”</p> +<p>“I will marry you this very day, Daisy Brooks, whether +you hate me or love me. I have done my best to gain your +love. It will come in time; I can wait for it.”</p> +<p>“You will never make me love you,” cried Daisy, covering +her face with her hands; “do not hope it––and the more you +talk to me the less I like you. I wish you would go away.”</p> +<p>“I shall not despair,” said Stanwick, with a confident +smile. “I like things which I find it hard to obtain––that +was always one of my characteristics––and I never liked you so +well as I like you now, in your defiant anger, and feel more +determined than ever to make you my own.”</p> +<p>Suddenly a new thought occurred to him as he was about to +turn from her.</p> +<p>“Why, how stupid of me!” he cried. “I could not bring +the parson here, for they think you my wife already. I must +change my plan materially by taking you to the parsonage. +We can go from here directly to the station. I shall return in +exactly fifteen minutes with a conveyance. Remember, I warn +you to make no outcry for protection in the meantime. If +you do I shall say you inherited your mother’s malady. I am +well acquainted with your history, you see.” He kissed his +finger-tips to her carelessly. “<i>Au revoir</i>, my love, but not +farewell,” he said, lightly, “until we meet to be parted nevermore,” +and, with a quick, springy step Lester Stanwick walked +rapidly down the clover-bordered path on his fatal errand.</p> +<p>In the distance the little babbling brook sung to her of peace +and rest beneath its curling, limpid waters.</p> +<p>“Oh, mother, mother,” she cried, “what was the dark +sorrow that tortured your poor brain, till it drove you mad––ay, +mad––ending in death and despair? Why did you leave +your little Daisy here to suffer so? I feel such a throbbing in +my own poor brain––but I must fly anywhere, anywhere, to +escape this new sorrow. God has forgotten me.” She took +one step forward in a blind, groping, uncertain way. “My +last ray of hope has died out,” she cried as the memory of +his cruel words came slowly back to her, so mockingly uttered––“the +minister would be none the wiser––he is blind.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV' id='CHAPTER_XIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +</div> +<p>When Lester Stanwick returned to the cottage he found +that quite an unexpected turn of events had transpired. Miss +Burton had gone out to Daisy––she lay so still and lifeless in +the long green grass.</p> +<p>“Heaven bless me!” she cried, in alarm, raising her voice +to a pitch that brought both of the sisters quickly to her side. +“Matilda, go at once and fetch the doctor. See, this child is +ill, her cheeks are burning scarlet and her eyes are like stars.”</p> +<p>At that opportune moment they espied the doctor’s carriage +proceeding leisurely along the road.</p> +<p>“Dear me, how lucky,” cried Ruth, “Doctor West should +happen along just now. Go to the gate, quick, Matilda, and +ask him to stop.”</p> +<p>The keen eyes of the doctor, however, had observed the +figure lying on the grass and the frantic movements of the +three old ladies bending over it, and drew rein of his own accord +to see what was the matter.</p> +<p>He drew back with a cry of surprise as his eyes rested on the +beautiful flushed face of the young girl lying among the blue +harebells at his feet.</p> +<p>“I am afraid this is a serious case,” he said, thoughtfully, +placing his cool hand on her burning forehead; “the child has +all the symptoms of brain fever in its worst form, brought on +probably through some great excitement.” The three ladies +looked at one another meaningly. “She must be taken into +the house and put to bed at once,” he continued, authoritatively, +lifting the slight figure in his strong arms, and gazing +pityingly down upon the beautiful flushed face framed in its +sheen of golden hair resting against his broad shoulders.</p> +<p>The doctor was young and unmarried and impressible; and +the strangest sensation he had ever experienced thrilled +through his heart as the blue, flaring eyes met his and the +trembling red lips incoherently beseeched him to save her, hide +her somewhere, anywhere, before the fifteen minutes were up.</p> +<p>A low muttered curse burst from Stanwick’s lips upon his +return, as he took in the situation at a single glance.</p> +<p>As Daisy’s eyes fell upon Stanwick’s face she uttered a +piteous little cry:</p> +<p>“Save me from him––save me!” she said, hysterically, +growing rapidly so alarmingly worse that Stanwick was forced +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +to leave the room, motioning the doctor to follow him into the +hall.</p> +<p>“The young lady is my wife,” he said, with unflinching +assurance, uttering the cruel falsehood, “and we intend leaving +Elmwood to-day. I am in an uncomfortable dilemma. I +must go, yet I can not leave my––my wife. She must be removed, +doctor; can you not help me to arrange it in some +way?”</p> +<p>“No, sir,” cried the doctor, emphatically; “she can not be +removed. As her physician, I certainly would not give my +consent to such a proceeding; her very life would pay the +forfeit.”</p> +<p>For a few moments Lester Stanwick paced up and down the +hall lost in deep thought; his lips were firmly set, and there +was a determined gleam in his restless black eyes. Suddenly +he stopped short directly before the doctor, who stood regarding +him with no very agreeable expression in his honest gray +eyes.</p> +<p>“How long will it be before the crisis is past––that is, how +long will it be before she is able to be removed?”</p> +<p>“Not under three weeks,” replied the doctor, determinedly.</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” he ejaculated, sharply. “Why, I shall +have to––” He bit his lip savagely, as if he had been on the +point of disclosing some guarded secret. “Fate is against +me,” he said, “in more ways than one; these things can not +be avoided, I suppose. Well, doctor, as I am forced to leave +to-day I shall leave her in your charge. I will return in exactly +two weeks. She has brain fever, you say?”</p> +<p>The doctor nodded.</p> +<p>“You assure me she can not leave her bed for two weeks to +come?” he continued, anxiously.</p> +<p>“I can safely promise that,” replied the doctor, wondering +at the strange, satisfied smile that flitted like a meteor over his +companion’s face for one brief instant.</p> +<p>“This will defray her expenses in the meantime,” he said, +putting a few crisp bank-notes into the doctor’s hand. “See +that she has every luxury.”</p> +<p>He was about to re-enter the room where Daisy lay, but the +doctor held him back.</p> +<p>“I should advise you to remain away for the present,” he +said, “your presence produces such an unpleasant effect upon +her. Wait until she sleeps.”</p> +<p>“I have often thought it so strange people in delirium +shrink so from those they love best; I can not understand it,” +said Stanwick, with an odd, forced laugh. “As you are the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +doctor, I suppose your orders must be obeyed, however. If +the fever should happen to take an unfavorable turn in the +meantime, please drop a line to my address, ‘care of Miss +Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, Allendale,’” he said, +extending his card. “It will be forwarded to me promptly, and +I can come on at once.”</p> +<p>Again the doctor nodded, putting the card safely away in +his wallet, and soon after Lester Stanwick took his departure, +roundly cursing his luck, yet congratulating himself upon the +fact that Daisy could not leave Elmwood––he could rest content +on that score.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the three venerable sisters and the young doctor +were watching anxiously at Daisy’s bedside.</p> +<p>“Oh, my poor little dear––my pretty little dear!” sobbed +Ruth, caressing the burning little hands that clung to her so +tightly.</p> +<p>“Won’t you hide me?” pleaded Daisy, laying her hot cheek +against the wrinkled hand that held hers. “Hide me, please, +just as if I were your own child; I have no mother, you +know.”</p> +<p>“God help the pretty, innocent darling!” cried the doctor, +turning hastily away to hide the suspicious moisture that +gathered in his eyes. “No one is going to harm you, little +one,” he said, soothingly; “no one shall annoy you.”</p> +<p>“Was it so great a sin? He would not let me explain. He +has gone out of my life!” she wailed, pathetically, putting +back the golden rings of hair from her flushed face. “Rex! +Rex!” she sobbed, incoherently, “I shall die––or, worse, I +shall go mad, if you do not come back to me!”</p> +<p>The three ladies looked at one another questioningly, in +alarm.</p> +<p>“You must not mind the strange ravings of a person in +delirium,” said the doctor, curtly; “they are liable to imagine +and say all sorts of nonsense. Pay no attention to what she +says, my dear ladies; don’t disturb her with questions. That +poor little brain needs absolute rest; every nerve seems to have +been strained to its utmost.”</p> +<p>After leaving the proper medicines and giving minute instructions +as to how and when it should be administered, Dr. +West took his departure, with a strange, vague uneasiness at +his heart.</p> +<p>“Pshaw!” he muttered to himself, as he drove briskly along +the shadowy road, yet seeing none of its beauty, “how +strange it is these young girls will fall in love and marry such +fellows as that!” he mused. “There is something about his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +face that I don’t like; he is a scoundrel, and I’ll bet my life +on it!”</p> +<p>The doctor brought his fist down on his knee with such a +resounding blow that poor old Dobbin broke into a gallop. +But, drive as fast he would, he could not forget the sweet, +childish face that had taken such a strong hold upon his fancy. +The trembling red lips and pleading blue eyes haunted him all +the morning, as though they held some secret they would fain +have whispered.</p> +<p>All the night long Daisy clung to the hands that held hers, +begging and praying her not to leave her alone, until the poor +old lady was quite overcome by the fatigue of continued watching +beside her couch. Rest or sleep seemed to have fled from +Daisy’s bright, restless eyes.</p> +<p>“Don’t go away,” she cried; “everybody goes away. I do +not belong to any one. I am all––all––alone,” she would sigh, +drearily.</p> +<p>Again she fancied she was with Rex, standing beneath the +magnolia boughs in the sunshine; again, she was clinging to +his arm––while some cruel woman insulted her––sobbing pitifully +upon his breast; again, she was parting from him at the +gate, asking him if what they had done was right; then she +was in some school-room, begging piteously for some cruel +letter; then out on the waves in the storm and the on-coming +darkness of night.</p> +<p>The sisters relieved one another at regular intervals. They +had ceased to listen to her pathetic little appeals for help, or +the wild cries of agony that burst from the red feverish lips +as she started up from her slumbers with stifled sobs, moaning +out that the time was flying; that she must escape anywhere, +anywhere, while there were still fifteen minutes left her.</p> +<p>She never once mentioned Stanwick’s name, or Septima’s, +but called incessantly for Rex and poor old Uncle John.</p> +<p>“Who in the world do you suppose Rex is?” said Matilda, +thoughtfully. “That name is continually on her lips––the +last word she utters when she closes her eyes, the first word to +cross her lips when she awakes. That must certainly be the +handsome young fellow she met at the gate. If he is Rex I do +not wonder the poor child loved him so. He was the handsomest, +most noble-looking, frank-faced young man I have +ever seen; and he took on in a way that made me actually cry +when I told him she was married. He would not believe it, +until I called the child and she told him herself it was the +truth. I was sorry from the bottom of my heart that young +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +fellow had not won her instead of this Stanwick, they were so +suited to each other.”</p> +<p>“Ah,” said Ruth, after a moment’s pause, “I think I have +the key to this mystery. She loves this handsome Rex, that is +evident; perhaps they have had a lovers’ quarrel, and she has +married this one on the spur of the moment through pique. +Oh, the pretty little dear!” sighed Ruth. “I hope she will +never rue it.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV' id='CHAPTER_XV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> +</div> +<p>Slowly the days came and went for the next fortnight. +The crisis had passed, and Dr. West said she would soon recover. +The beautiful, long, golden hair had been shorn from +the pretty little head, and the rose-bloom had died out of the +pretty cheeks, but the bright, restless light never left the +beautiful blue eyes––otherwise there was but little change in +Daisy.</p> +<p>It had been just two weeks that morning, they told her, +as she opened her eyes to consciousness, since she had first +been stricken down.</p> +<p>“And I have been here ever since?” she inquired, wonderingly.</p> +<p>“Yes, my dear,” replied Ruth Burton, softly patting the +thin white cheeks; “of course you have been here ever since. +I am afraid we are going to lose you soon, however. We have +received a letter from your husband, saying he will be here +some time to-morrow. Shall you be pleased to see him, +dear?”</p> +<p>In one single instant all the dim, horrible past rushed back +to Daisy’s mind. She remembered flinging herself down in the +clover-scented grass, and the world growing dark around her, +as the terrible words of Stanwick rang in her ears––he would +be back in just fifteen minutes to claim her.</p> +<p>Ah, bonny little Daisy, tossing on your pillow, babbling +empty nothings, better would it have been for you, perhaps, +if you had dropped the weary burden of your life into the kindly +arms of death then and there than to struggle onward into +the dark mystery which lay entombed in your future.</p> +<p>“Shall you be glad to see Mr. Stanwick, dear?” repeated +the old lady, and, unconscious of any wrong, she placed the +letter he had written in Daisy’s hands. Like one in a terrible +dream, Daisy read it quite through to the end. “You see, he +says he incloses fifty dollars extra for you, dear. I have placed +it with the twenty safe in your little purse.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></div> +<p>“Oh, Miss Ruth, you are so very kind to me. I shall never +forget how good you have all been to me,” said Daisy, softly, +watching the three peaceful-faced old ladies, who had drawn +their rocking-chairs, as was their custom, all in a row, and sat +quietly knitting in the sunshine, the gentle click of their +needles falling soothingly upon Daisy’s poor, tired brain.</p> +<p>“We shall miss you sadly when you go,” said Ruth, knitting +away vigorously. “You have been like a ray of sunshine +in this gloomy old house. We have all learned to love you +very dearly.”</p> +<p>“You love me?” repeated Daisy, wonderingly. “I was +beginning to believe every one hated me in the whole world, +every one has been so bitter and so cruel with me, except poor +old Uncle John. I often wonder why God lets me live––what +am I to do with my life! Mariana in the moated grange, was +not more to be pitied than I. Death relieved her, but I am +left to struggle on.”</p> +<p>“Heaven hear her!” cried Ruth. “One suffers a great +deal to lose all interest in life. You are so young, dear, you +could not have suffered much.”</p> +<p>“I have lost all I hold dear in life,” she answered, pathetically, +lifting her beautiful, childish blue eyes toward the white +fleecy clouds tinted by the setting sun.</p> +<p>Their hearts ached for the pretty, lonely little creature. +They believed she was thinking of her mother. So she was––and +of Rex, the handsome young husband whom she so madly +idolized in her worshipful childish fashion, who was worse than +dead to her––the husband who should have believed in her +honor and purity, though the world had cried out to him that +she was false. He had thrust aside all possibility of her writing +to him; cast her out from his life; left her to be persecuted +beyond all endurance; bound by a vow she dare not break to +keep her marriage with Rex a secret. Though he was more +cruel than death, she loved Rex with a devotion that never +faltered.</p> +<p>Daisy lay there, thinking of it all, while the soft, golden +sunlight died out of the sky, and the deep dusk of twilight +crept softly on.</p> +<p>Then the old ladies arose from their chairs, folded their +knitting, and put it away. Dusk was their hour for retiring.</p> +<p>They were discussing which one should sit up with Daisy, +when she summoned them all to her bedside.</p> +<p>“I want you all to go to bed and never mind me,” coaxed +Daisy, with a strange light in her eyes. “Take a good sleep, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +as I am going to do. I shall be very happy to-morrow––happier +than I have ever been before!”</p> +<p>She clasped her white arms about their necks in turn, clinging +to them, and sobbing as though she was loath to part with +them.</p> +<p>Ruth’s hand she held last and longest.</p> +<p>“Please kiss me again,” she sobbed. “Clasp your arms +tight around me, and say ‘Good-night, Daisy.’ It will be so +nice to dream about.”</p> +<p>With a cheery laugh the old lady lovingly complied with +her request.</p> +<p>“You must close those bright little eyes of yours, and drift +quickly into the Land of Nod, or there will be no roses in +these cheeks to-morrow. Good-night, my pretty little dear!”</p> +<p>“Good-night, dear, kind Ruth!” sighed Daisy.</p> +<p>And she watched the old lady with wistful, hungry eyes as +she picked up her shaded night-lamp, that threw such a soft, +sweet radiance over her aged face, as she quietly quitted the +room.</p> +<p>A sudden change came over Daisy’s face as the sound of her +footsteps died away in the hall.</p> +<p>“Oh, God! help me!” she cried, piteously, struggling to her +feet. “I must be far away from here when daylight breaks.”</p> +<p>She was so weak she almost fell back on her bed again when +she attempted to rise. The thought of the morrow lent +strength to her flagging energies. A strange mist seemed +rising before her. Twice she seemed near fainting, but her +indomitable courage kept her from sinking, as she thought of +what the morrow would have in store for her.</p> +<p>Quietly she counted over the little store in her purse by the +moon’s rays.</p> +<p>“Seventy dollars! Oh, I could never use all that in my +life!” she cried. “Besides, I could never touch one cent of +Stanwick’s money. It would burn my fingers––I am sure it +would!”</p> +<p>Folding the bill carefully in two she placed it beneath her +little snowy ruffled pillow. Then catching up the thick, dark +shawl which lay on an adjacent table, she wrapped it quickly +about her. She opened the door leading out into the hall, and +listened. All was still––solemnly still.</p> +<p>Daisy crept softly down the stairs, and out into the quiet +beauty of the still, summer night.</p> +<p>“Rex,” she wailed, softly, “perhaps when I am dead you +will feel sorry for poor little Daisy, and some one may tell you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +how you have wronged me in your thoughts, but you would +not let me tell you how it happened!”</p> +<p>In the distance she saw the shimmer of water lying white +and still under the moon’s rays, tipped by the silvery light of +the stars.</p> +<p>“No, not that way,” she cried, with a shudder; “some one +might save me, and I want to die!”</p> +<p>In the distance the red and colored gleaming lights of an +apothecary’s shop caught her gaze.</p> +<p>“Yes, that way will be best,” she said, reflectively.</p> +<p>She drew the shawl closer about her, pressing on as rapidly +as her feeble little feet would carry her. How weak she was +when she turned the knob and entered––the very lights seemed +dancing around her.</p> +<p>A small, keen-eyed, shrewd little man stepped briskly forward +to wait upon her. He started back in horror at the utter +despair and woe in the beautiful young face that was turned +for a moment toward him, beautiful in all its pallor as a +statue, with a crown of golden hair such as pictures of angels +wear encircling the perfect head.</p> +<p>“What can I do for you, miss?” queried the apothecary, +gazing searchingly into the beautiful dreamy blue eyes raised +up to his and wondering who she could possibly be.</p> +<p>“I wish to purchase some laudanum,” Daisy faltered. “I +wish it to relieve a pain which is greater than I can bear.”</p> +<p>“Toothache, most probably?” intimated the brisk little +doctor. “I know what it is. Lord bless you! I’ve had it +until I thought I should jump through the roof. Laudanum’s +a first-class thing, but I can tell you of something better––jerk +’em out, that’s my recipe,” he said, with an odd little smile. +“Of course every one to their notion, and if you say laudanum––and +nothing else––why it’s laudanum you shall have; +but remember it’s powerful. Why, ten drops of it would +cause––death.”</p> +<p>“How many drops did you say?” asked Daisy, bending forward +eagerly. “I––I want to be careful in taking it.”</p> +<p>“Ten drops, I said, would poison a whole family, and +twenty a regiment. You must use it very carefully, miss. +Remember I have warned you,” he said, handing her the +little bottle filled with a dark liquid and labeled conspicuously, +“Laudanum––a poison.”</p> +<p>“Please give me my change quickly,” she said, a strange, +deadly sickness creeping over her.</p> +<p>“Certainly, ma’am,” assented the obliging little man, +handing her back the change.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></div> +<p>Daisy quite failed to notice that he returned her the full +amount she had paid him in his eagerness to oblige her, and +he went happily back to compounding his drugs in the rear +part of the shop, quite unconscious he was out the price of the +laudanum.</p> +<p>He was dreaming of the strange beauty of the young girl, +and the smile deepened on his good-humored face as he remembered +how sweetly she had gazed up at him.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Daisy struggled on, clasping her treasure close to +her throbbing heart. She remembered Ruth had pointed out an +old shaft to her from her window; it had been unused many +years, she had said.</p> +<p>“The old shaft shall be my tomb,” she said; “no one will +think of looking for me there.”</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy––unhappy girl-bride, let Heaven not judge +her harshly––she was sorely tried.</p> +<p>“Mother, mother!” she sobbed, in a dry, choking voice, “I +can not live any longer. I am not taking the life God gave +me, I am only returning it to Him. This is the only crime I +have ever committed, mother, and man will forget it, and God +will forgive me. You must plead for me, angel-mother. +Good-bye, dear, kind Uncle John, your love never failed me, +and Rex––oh, Rex––whom I love best of all, you will not know +how I loved you. Oh, my love––my lost love––I shall watch +over you up there!” she moaned, “and come to you in your +dreams! Good-bye, Rex, my love, my husband!” she sobbed, +holding the fatal liquid to her parched lips.</p> +<p>The deep yawning chasm lay at her feet. Ten––ay, eleven +drops she hastily swallowed. Then with one last piteous appeal +to Heaven for forgiveness, poor, helpless little Daisy closed +her eyes and sprung into the air.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI' id='CHAPTER_XVI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +</div> +<p>A strong hand drew Daisy quickly back.</p> +<p>“Rash child! What is this that you would do?” cried an +eager, earnest voice, and, turning quickly about, speechless +with fright, Daisy met the stern eyes of the apothecary bent +searchingly, inquiringly upon her.</p> +<p>“It means that I am tired of life,” she replied, desperately. +“My life is so full of sadness it will be no sorrow to leave it. +I wanted to rest quietly down there, but you have held me +back; it is useless to attempt to save me now. I have already +swallowed a portion of the laudanum. Death must come to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +relieve me soon. It would be better to let me die down there +where no one could have looked upon my face again.”</p> +<p>“I had no intention to let you die so easily,” said the +apothecary, softly. “I read your thoughts too plainly for +that. I did not give you laudanum, but a harmless mixture +instead, and followed you to see if my surmise was correct. +You are young and fair––surely life could not have lost all +hope and sunshine for you?”</p> +<p>“You do not know all,” said Daisy, wearily, “or you +would not have held me back. I do not know of another life +so utterly hopeless as my own.”</p> +<p>The good man looked at the sweet, innocent, beautiful face, +upon which the starlight fell, quite bewildered and thoughtful.</p> +<p>“I should like to know what your trouble is,” he said, +gently.</p> +<p>“I could tell you only one half of it,” she replied, wearily. +“I have suffered much, and yet through no fault of my own. +I am cast off, deserted, condemned to a loveless, joyless life; +my heart is broken; there is nothing left me but to die. I repeat +that it is a sad fate.”</p> +<p>“It is indeed,” replied the apothecary, gravely. “Yet, +alas! not an uncommon one. Are you quite sure that nothing +can remedy it?”</p> +<p>“Quite sure,” replied Daisy, hopelessly. “My doom is +fixed; and no matter how long I live, or how long he lives, it +can never be altered.”</p> +<p>The apothecary was uncomfortable without knowing why, +haunted by a vague, miserable suspicion, which poor Daisy’s +words secretly corroborated; yet it seemed almost a sin to harbor +one suspicion against the purity of the artless little creature +before him. He looked into the fresh young face. There +was no cloud on it, no guilt lay brooding in the clear, truthful +blue eyes. He never dreamed little Daisy was a wife. “Why +did he not love her?” was the query the apothecary asked +himself over and over again; “she is so young, so loving, and +so fair. He has cast her off, this man to whom she has given +the passionate love of her young heart.”</p> +<p>“You see you did wrong to hold me back,” she said, gently. +“How am I to live and bear this sorrow that has come upon +me? What am I to do?”</p> +<p>She looked around her with the bewildered air of one who +had lost her way, with the dazed appearance of one from beneath +whose feet the bank of safety has been withdrawn. +Hope was dead, and the past a blank.</p> +<p>“No matter what your past has been, my poor child, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +must remember there is a future. Take up the burden +again, and bear it nobly; go back to your home, and commence +life anew.”</p> +<p>“I have no home and no friends,” she sighed, hopelessly.</p> +<p>“Poor child,” he said, pityingly, “is it as bad as that?”</p> +<p>A sudden idea seemed to occur to him.</p> +<p>“You are a perfect stranger to me,” he said, “but I believe +you to be an honorable girl, and I should like to befriend you, +as I would pray Heaven to befriend a daughter of mine if she +were similarly situated. If I should put you in a way of obtaining +your own living as companion to an elderly lady in a +distant city, would you be willing to take up the tangled +threads of your life again, and wait patiently until God saw fit +to call you––that is, you would never attempt to take your life +into your own hands again?” he asked, slowly. “Remember, +such an act is murder, and a murderer can not enter the kingdom +of heaven.”</p> +<p>He never forgot the startled, frightened glance that swept +over the beautiful face, plainly discernible in the white moonlight, +nor the quiver of the sweet, tremulous voice as Daisy +answered:</p> +<p>“I think God must have intended me to live, or He would +not have sent you here to save me,” she answered, impulsively. +“Twice I have been near death, and each time I have been +rescued. I never attempted to take my own life but this +once. I shall try and accept my fate and live out my weary +life.”</p> +<p>“Bravely spoken, my noble girl,” replied her rescuer, +heartily.</p> +<p>“I must go far away from here, though,” she continued, +shuddering; “I am sorely persecuted here.”</p> +<p>The old man listened gravely to her disconnected, incoherent +words, drawing but one conclusion from them––“the lover +who had cast her off was pursuing the child, as her relentless +foe, to the very verge of death and despair.”</p> +<p>“It is my sister who wants a companion,” he said. “She +lives in the South––in Florida. Do you think you would like +to go as far away as that?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Daisy, mechanically. “I should like to go +to the furthest end of the world. It does not matter much +where I go!”</p> +<p>How little she knew where fate was drifting her! Rex had +not told her his home was in Florida; he meant to tell her +that on the morning he was to have met her.</p> +<p>“It will be a long, wearisome journey for you to undertake, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +still I feel sure you are brave enough to accomplish it in +safety.”</p> +<p>“I thank you very much for your confidence in me, sir,” +said Daisy, simply.</p> +<p>“Tut, tut, child!” exclaimed the old man, brusquely. +“That innocent little face of yours ought to be a passport to +any one’s confidence. I don’t think there’s any doubt but +what you will get on famously with Maria––that’s my sister +Mrs. Glenn––but she’s got three daughters that would put an +angel’s temper on edge. They’re my nieces––more’s the pity, +for they are regular Tartars. Mrs. Glenn sent for my daughter +Alice to come down there; but, Lord bless you, I wouldn’t +dare send her! There would be a raging quarrel before +twenty-four hours! My Alice has got a temper of her own. +But, pshaw! I ought not to frighten you, my dear; they +could not help but love <i>you</i>.”</p> +<p>And thus it was Daisy’s fate was unchangeably settled for +her.</p> +<p>“There is one thing I would like you to promise me,” she +said, timidly, “and that is never to divulge my whereabouts +to any one who might come in search of me. I must remain +dead to the world forever; I shall never take up the old life +again. They must believe me dead.”</p> +<p>Argument and persuasion alike were useless; and, sorely +troubled at heart, the apothecary reluctantly consented. Poor +little Daisy impulsively caught him by both hands, and gratefully +sobbed out her thanks.</p> +<p>The arrangements were soon completed, and before the gray +dawn pierced the darkness of the eastern sky poor little Daisy +was whirling rapidly away from Elmwood.</p> +<p>The consternation and excitement which prevailed at the +Burton Cottage when Daisy’s absence was discovered can better +be imagined than described; or the intense anger of Stanwick +upon finding Daisy had eluded him.</p> +<p>“Checkmated!” he cried, white to the very lips. “But +she shall not escape me; she shall suffer for this freak. I am +not a man to be trifled with. She can not have gone far,” he +assured himself. “In all probability she has left Elmwood; +but if by rail or by water I can easily recapture my pretty +bird. Ah, Daisy Brooks!” he muttered, “you can not fly +away from your fate; it will overtake you sooner or later.”</p> +<p>Some hours after Stanwick had left the cottage, an old man +toiled wearily up the grass-grown path.</p> +<p>“Oh, poor little Daisy,” he said, wiping the tears from his +eyes with his old red and white cotton kerchief; “no matter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +what you have done I will take you back to my heart––that I +will!”</p> +<p>He clutched the letter Mme. Whitney had written him close +in his toil-hardened hand. The letter simply told him Daisy +had fled from the seminary, and she had every reason to believe +she was now in Elmwood. He had received the letter +while in New York, and hastily proceeded to Elmwood, the +station indicated, at once, without stopping over at Allendale +to acquaint Septima with the news.</p> +<p>“She shall never be sent off to school again,” he commented; +“but she shall stop at home. Poor little pet, she was +always as happy as the day was long; she sha’n’t have book-learning +if she don’t want it. I am too hard, I s’pose, with +the child in sending her off among these primpy city gals, +with their flounces and furbelows, with only three plain muslin +frocks. The dickens fly away with the book-learnin’; I +like her all the better just as she is, bless her dear little heart! +I’m after little Daisy Brooks,” he said, bowing to the ladies +who met him at the door. “I heard she was here––run away +from school, you see, ma’am––but I’ll forgive the little gypsy. +Tell her old Uncle John is here. She’ll be powerful glad to +see me.”</p> +<p>Slowly and gently they broke to him the cruel story. How +the dark, handsome stranger had brought her there in the +storm and the night; and they could not refuse her shelter; +the gentleman claimed her to be his wife; of her illness which +culminated in her disappearance.</p> +<p>They never forgot the white, set face turned toward them. +The veins stood out like cords on his forehead, and the perspiration +rolled down his pallid cheeks in great quivering beads. +This heart-rending, silent emotion was more terrible to witness +than the most violent paroxysms of grief. Strangely enough +they had quite forgotten to mention Rex’s visit.</p> +<p>“You don’t know how I loved that child,” he cried, brokenly. +“She was all I had to love in the whole world, and I set +such store by her, but Stanwick shall pay dearly for this,” he +cried, hoarsely. “I shall never rest day or night until my +little Daisy’s honor is avenged, so help me God! You think +she is dead?” he questioned, looking brokenly from the one to +the other.</p> +<p>They only nodded their heads; they could not speak through +their sobs.</p> +<p>At that moment several of the neighbors who were assisting +in the search were seen coming toward the cottage.</p> +<p>They gathered in a little knot by the garden wall. With a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +heart heavier than lead in his bosom John Brooks went forward +to meet them.</p> +<p>“You haven’t got any track of my little Daisy?” he asked, +despondingly. The men averted their faces. “For God’s +sake speak out, my men!” he cried, in agony; “I can’t stand +this suspense.”</p> +<p>“There are footprints in the wet grass down yonder,” one +of them replied; “and they lead straight down to the old +shaft. Do you think your girl has made away with herself?”</p> +<p>A gray, ghastly pallor settled over John Brooks’ anguished +face.</p> +<p>“The Lord knows! All of you stay here while I go down +there and look. If I should find anything there I’d rather be +alone.”</p> +<p>There was a depth of agony in the man’s voice that touched +his hearers, and more than one coat-sleeve was drawn hastily +across sympathetic eyes as they whispered one to the other he +would surely find her there.</p> +<p>John Brooks had reached the very mouth of the pit now, +and through the branches of the trees the men saw him suddenly +spring forward, and stoop as if to pick up something, +and bitter cries rent the stillness of the summer morning.</p> +<p>“Daisy! oh, Daisy! my child, my child!”</p> +<p>Then they saw him fall heavily to the ground on the very +brink of the shaft.</p> +<p>“I guess he’s found her!” cried the sympathizing men. +“Let us go and see.”</p> +<p>They found John Brooks insensible, lying prone on his face, +grasping a tiny little glove in one hand, and in the other a +snowy little handkerchief, which bore, in one corner, worked +in fanciful design, the name of “Daisy.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII' id='CHAPTER_XVII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +</div> +<p>Glengrove was one of the most beautiful spots in the south +of Florida. The house––similar to many in the South in style +of architecture––stood in the midst of charming grounds which +were filled with flowers. To the left of the house was a large +shrubbery which opened on to a wide carriage-drive leading to +the main road, but the principal attraction of Glengrove was +its magnificent orange grove, where the brilliant sunshine loved +to linger longest among the dark-green boughs, painting the +luscious fruit with its own golden coloring––from green to +gold. A low stone wall divided it from the beach which led +to the sea.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div> +<p>It was early morning. In an elegant boudoir, whose oriel +window overlooked the garden, sat three young ladies, respectively, +Bessie Glenn, two-and-twenty; Gertie Glenn, twenty; +and Eve Glenn, eighteen––all dark-eyed, dark-haired, and +handsome, yet each of a distinct different type.</p> +<p>“I declare, Bess,” cried Gertie, indignantly, twisting the +telegram she held in her hand into a wisp, “it’s from Uncle +Jet! Guess what he says!”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t possibly,” yawns Bess, from the depths of her +easy-chair; “it’s too much trouble.”</p> +<p>“Is it about Alice?” questioned Eve, maliciously.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Gertie; “but you are to try and guess what +it is.”</p> +<p>“Why, I suppose some stranger has chanced to flutter down +into the quiet little village of Elmwood, and Alice thinks it +her duty to stay there and capture him.”</p> +<p>“That isn’t it at all,” snapped Gertie. “Uncle Jet says +Alice can not come; but he has taken the liberty of sending +another young lady in her stead, and hopes Miss Daisy Brooks +will be the right person in the right place. She will arrive on +the twentieth, at nine <span class='smcaplc'>A. M.</span>”</p> +<p>Eve jumped to her feet in actual astonishment, and even +Bessie dropped her novel, with widely opened eyes.</p> +<p>“Just fancy some tall, gaunt old maid of a companion, with +such a name!” she cried, raising her eyebrows and picking up +her book again. “I think you will find the daisy a rather +ancient and faded flower.”</p> +<p>“She couldn’t be anything else,” assented Gertie.</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t it be fun if she should turn out to be young and +pretty, and take the shine off both of you?” laughed Eve, +puckering up her mouth. “I would enjoy it immensely!”</p> +<p>“Eve, will you hold your tongue?” commanded Bessie, +sharply.</p> +<p>“You’d better hold your temper!” retorted Eve.</p> +<p>“Pshaw! what’s the use of being so silly as to quarrel over +a Miss Nobody?” cried Gertie, stamping her pretty slippered +foot. “Guess what else is the news.”</p> +<p>“Haven’t I told you I despise guessing?” cried Bess, angrily. +“It is not good form to insist upon a person’s guessing––please +remember it.”</p> +<p>“Write it down on ice,” said Eve, <i>sotto voce</i>, mimicking +her elder sister’s tone.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Gertie, with a look of triumph, “I drove over +to Mrs. Lyon’s yesterday to see how everything was progressing +for that contemplated marriage, and, lo! she informs me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +the wedding is postponed for the present, and Rex––handsome +Rex––is coming home alone.”</p> +<p>“No––o!” cried both the sisters in chorus.</p> +<p>Bess sat bolt upright, and Eve danced around the room +clapping her hands.</p> +<p>“I don’t think much of a marriage which has been postponed,” +said Bess, a bright spot glowing on both of her cheeks. +“Who knows but what one of us may have a chance of winning +handsome Rex Lyon, after all? He is certainly a golden +prize!”</p> +<p>“‘Don’t count the chickens,’ etc.,” quoted Eve, saucily.</p> +<p>“Gertrude!” said Bess, severely, “you will learn after +awhile never to speak before Eve. She is as liable to do mischief +as her namesake was in the Garden of Eden.”</p> +<p>“You ought never to go back on your own sex,” retorted +Eve, banging the door after her as she quitted the room, +Rover, an ugly-looking mastiff, closely following at her heels.</p> +<p>“That is certainly an astonishing piece of news,” said Bess, +reflectively, smoothing out the folds of her white cashmere +morning wrapper. “Now, here’s a plan for you, Gertie. +Find out his address in some way, and we will write to him on +some pretext or other. Rex has probably quarreled with the +haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, and one of us ought certainly +to catch his heart in the rebound. Send him an invitation +to your birthday party, Gertie.”</p> +<p>“I would be more likely to succeed than you, Bess,” said +Gertie, rocking complacently to and fro, and looking maliciously +at her sister. “You remember he once remarked he +did not like tall ladies, and you are certainly tall, Bess.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’d rather be tall and willowy and graceful, than +short and fat and dumpy,” jerked out Bess, spitefully.</p> +<p>“What! at swords’ points yet, eh? Ha, ha, ha!” cried +Eve, suddenly, popping her head in at the door. “I’ll be +back after awhile to see which one of you gets the best of it.”</p> +<p>Before either of the sisters had time to reply, the family +carriage dashed suddenly up to the porch, and a moment later +a slight, dark-robed little figure was ushered into their presence.</p> +<p>“This is Miss Brooks, mum,” said Jim, the coachman, addressing +the elder sister.</p> +<p>“I’d like to know why you have brought her in here?” +cried Bess, angrily. “Why did you not take her into the +servants’ hall or into the kitchen?”</p> +<p>But Jim had disappeared.</p> +<p>“Well, now that you are here, you might sit down,” suggested +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +Gertie, wondering what kind of a face was hid behind +the long, thick, clinging veil. “You may lay aside your bonnet +and veil.”</p> +<p>Trembling and sick at heart with the cold greeting which +had been given her, Daisy did as she was bid.</p> +<p>“Why, I declare, you are younger than I am!” cried Eve, +impulsively. “We were all expecting to see a wrinkled, dried-up +old maid. Why, you’d make a much better companion for +me than for mother.”</p> +<p>“E––v––e!” cried the elder Miss Glenn, severely, “be kind +enough to leave the room.”</p> +<p>“I sha’n’t go one step until I have had my say out,” cried +Eve, planting herself firmly down on a hassock in the middle +of the floor. “Nobody likes me because I’m rude and free-spoken,” +declared Eve, addressing Daisy; “but I believe in +letting people know just what I am to begin with. I’m not +one of these sleek, smooth, tigery creatures that hide their +claws under velvet-paws. We are three model sisters,” she +went on, recklessly; “we have tremendous spats––when we are +here alone; but if a visitor happens in we all sit with our arms +around one another, ‘just to have the appearance’ of affection, +you know.”</p> +<p>The elder Miss Glenn arose with dignity, motioning Daisy to +follow her.</p> +<p>“Papa will see you later, Eve, dear,” she said, with a baleful +glitter in her sloe-black eyes; and as Daisy followed her +she could not help but compare her with Pluma Hurlhurst, +with that treacherous, mocking smile playing about her full, +red lips––and quite unconsciously poor little Daisy fell to +thinking.</p> +<p>“Rex will go back to Pluma Hurlhurst now,” she thought, +with a bitter sigh. “He has cast me out of his life; he will +go back and marry her.”</p> +<p>Poor, innocent Daisy, how little she knew of life or the insurmountable +barrier which lay between the haughty, scheming +heiress and Rex––her husband!</p> +<p>“I was asking you if you resided in Elmwood, Miss Brooks,” +said Bess, raising her voice. “I have asked you twice.”</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon; please forgive me,” said Daisy, flushing +painfully. “I––I was not aware you had spoken. No, I +lived near Elmwood––between there and Baltimore.”</p> +<p>Daisy was sorely afraid Miss Glenn would ask her to name +the exact location. She did not, however, much to Daisy’s +relief. By this time they had reached the door of Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +Glenn’s room, and as it was slightly ajar Bessie pushed it open +without further ceremony and entered.</p> +<p>“Has Miss Brooks come yet?” asked a thin, querulous +voice.</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Bessie; “here she is, mamma.”</p> +<p>The room was so dark Daisy could scarcely distinguish the +different objects for a moment or so. She saw, however, a +dark figure on a couch and a white jeweled hand waving a fan +indolently to and fro. A sudden impulse came over Daisy to +turn and run away, but by a great effort she controlled her +feelings.</p> +<p>“Step forward, if you please, Miss Brooks. I can not observe +you well at such a distance; do not tread on the poodle +on the rug or brush against the bric-à-brac placed indiscriminately +about the room.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, if there were only a light,” thought Daisy, +in dismay. She was afraid of taking a single step for fear +some of the bric-à-brac mentioned, either at the right or left +of her, should come crashing down under her blundering little +feet.</p> +<p>“I always exclude the broad glare of early morning light, +as I find it especially trying.”</p> +<p>As she spoke she threw back one of the shutters with the +end of her fan, and a warm flood of invigorating sunshine +poured into the room.</p> +<p>“Dear me,” she cried, staring hard at the beautiful little +face before her. “Why, you are a child, scarcely older than +my Eve. What could that stupid brother of mine mean by +sending you to me? I have a notion to send you back again +directly.”</p> +<p>“Oh, please do not, madame,” cried Daisy, piteously. +“Only try me first; I will do my very best to please you.”</p> +<p>“But I did not want a young person,” expostulated Mrs. +Glenn.</p> +<p>“But you sent for Alice, his daughter, and––and he thought +I would do as well,” faltered Daisy, timidly.</p> +<p>“Alice Jet is over forty, and you are not more than sixteen, +I should judge. How did you happen to think you could do +as well as she?”</p> +<p>The color came and went on Daisy’s pretty flower-like face, +and her heart throbbed pitifully.</p> +<p>“I am not so very wise or learned,” she said, “but I should +try so hard to please you, if you will only let me try.”</p> +<p>“I suppose, now that you are here, we will have to make +the best of it,” replied Mrs. Glenn, condescendingly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></div> +<p>The fair beauty of the young girl’s face did not please her.</p> +<p>“I have always dreaded fair women,” she thought to herself, +“they are the most dangerous of rivals. If she stays at +Glengrove I shall see she is kept well in the background.”</p> +<p>While in the morning-room below the three girls were discussing +the new turn of affairs vigorously.</p> +<p>“I am determined she shall not remain here,” Bessie Glenn +was saying.</p> +<p>“I heartily indorse your opinion,” said Gertie, slowly.</p> +<p>And for once in her life the tongue of reckless Eve was +silent. She looked thoughtfully out of the window.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII' id='CHAPTER_XVIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>The first week of Daisy’s stay at Glengrove passed quickly. +She was beginning to feel quite at home with Mrs. Glenn and +Eve, but Bessie and Gertie held aloof from her. She was beginning +to believe she never would be able to win her way to +their hearts. Eve––warm-hearted, impulsive Eve––took to +her at once.</p> +<p>“You are just the kind of a girl I like, Daisy,” said Eve, +twirling one of her soft gold curls caressingly around her +finger; “and if I were a handsome young man, instead of a +girl, I should fall straightway in love with you. Why, what +are you blushing so for?” cried Eve. “Don’t you like to talk +about love and lovers?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Daisy, in a low voice, a distressed look creeping +into her blue eyes. “If you please, Eve, I’d rather not talk +about such things.”</p> +<p>“You are certainly a funny girl,” said Eve, wonderingly. +“Why, do you know all the handsome young fellows around +here have fallen deeply in love with you, and have just been +besieging both Bess and Gertie for an introduction to you.”</p> +<p>No laughing rejoinder came from Daisy’s red lips. There +was an anxious look in her eyes. Ah! this, then, accounted +for the growing coldness with which the two sisters greeted her.</p> +<p>“You do not seem enough interested to even ask who they +are,” said Eve, disappointedly. “I suppose you have never +heard we have some of the handsomest gentlemen around here +to be met with in the whole South––or in the North either, +for that matter,” said Eve, enthusiastically. “Wait until +you have seen some of them.”</p> +<p>How little she knew the girl’s heart and soul was bound up +in Rex, whom she told herself she was never again to see.</p> +<p>“Do you see that large gray, stone house yonder, whose turrets +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +you can just see beyond those trees?” asked Eve, suddenly, +a mischievous light dancing in her merry hazel eyes.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Daisy. “I have a fine view of it from my +window upstairs. I have seen a little child swinging to and +fro in a hammock beneath the trees. Poor little thing, she +uses a crutch. Is she lame?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Eve, “that’s little Birdie; she’s lame. I +do not want to talk about her but about her brother. Oh, he +is perfectly splendid!” declared Eve, enthusiastically, “and +rich, too. Why, he owns I don’t know how many cotton +plantations and orange groves, and he is––oh––so handsome! +You must take care you do not fall in love with him. All the +girls do. If you did not, you would be a great exception; you +could scarcely help caring for him, he is so winning and so +nice,” said Eve, blushing furiously.</p> +<p>How poor little Daisy’s heart longed for sympathy and consolation! +Oh, if she only dared tell Eve the great hidden sorrow +that seemed eating her heart away! She felt that she +must unburden her heart to some one, or it must surely break.</p> +<p>“Eve,” she said, her little hands closing softly over the +restless brown one drumming a tattoo on the window-sill, and +her golden head drooping so close to Eve’s, her curls mingled +with her dark locks, “I could never love any one in this world +again. I loved once––it was the sweetest, yet the most bitter, +experience of my life. The same voice that spoke tender words +to me cruelly cast me from him. Yet I love him still with +all my heart. Do not talk to me of love, or lovers, Eve, I can +not bear it. The world will never hold but one face for me, +and that is the face of him who is lost to me forever.”</p> +<p>“Oh, how delightfully romantic!” cried Eve. “I said to +myself over and over again there was some mystery in your +life. I have seen such strange shadows in your eyes, and your +voice often had the sound of tears in it. I do wish I could +help you in some way,” said Eve, thoughtfully. “I’d give +the world to set the matter straight for you. What’s his +name, and where does he live?”</p> +<p>“I can not tell you,” said Daisy, shaking her golden curls +sadly.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear! then I do not see how I can help you,” cried +Eve.</p> +<p>“You can not,” replied Daisy; “only keep my secret for +me.”</p> +<p>“I will,” she cried, earnestly.</p> +<p>And as they parted, Eve resolved in her own mind to bring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +this truant lover of Daisy’s back to his old allegiance; but the +first and most important step was to discover his name.</p> +<p>Eve went directly to her own room, her brain whirling with +a new plan, which she meant to put into execution at once, +while Daisy strolled on through the grounds, choosing the less +frequented paths. She wanted to be all alone by herself to +have a good cry. Somehow she felt so much better for having +made a partial confidante of Eve.</p> +<p>The sun was beginning to sink in the west; still Daisy +walked on, thinking of Rex. A little shrill piping voice falling +suddenly upon her ears caused her to stop voluntarily.</p> +<p>“Won’t you please reach me my hat and crutch? I have +dropped them on your side of the fence.”</p> +<p>Daisy glanced around, wondering in which direction the +voice came from.</p> +<p>“I am sitting on the high stone wall; come around on the +other side of that big tree and you will see me.”</p> +<p>The face that looked down into Daisy’s almost took her +breath away for a single instant, it was so like Rex’s.</p> +<p>A bright, winning, childish face, framed in a mass of dark +nut-brown curls, and the brownest of large brown eyes.</p> +<p>“Certainly,” said Daisy, stooping down with a strange unexplainable +thrill at her heart and picking up the wide-brimmed +sun-hat and crutch, which was unfortunately broken +by the fall.</p> +<p>A low cry burst from the child’s lips.</p> +<p>“Oh, my crutch is broken!” she cried, in dismay. “What +shall I do? I can not walk back to the house. I am lame!”</p> +<p>“Let me see if I can help you,” said Daisy, scaling the +stone wall with the grace of a fawn. “Put your arms around +my neck,” she said, “and cling very tight. I will soon have +you down from your high perch; never mind the crutch. I +can carry you up to the porch; it is not very far, and you are +not heavy.”</p> +<p>In a very few moments Daisy had the child down safely +upon <i>terra firma</i>.</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said the child. “I know you are tired; we +will rest a moment, please, on this fallen log.”</p> +<p>The touch of the little girl’s hands, the glance of the soft +brown eyes, and the tone of her voice seemed to recall every +word and glance of Rex, and hold a strange fascination for +her.</p> +<p>“I shall tell my mother and my brother how good you have +been to me, and they will thank you too. My name is Birdie; +please tell me yours.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></div> +<p>“My name is Daisy Brooks,” she answered.</p> +<p>Poor little girl-bride, there had been a time when she had +whispered to her heart that her name was Daisy Lyon; but +that bright dream was over now; she would never be aught else +than––Daisy Brooks.</p> +<p>“Is your name really Daisy?” cried the little girl in a transport +of delight, scarcely catching the last name. “Why, that +is the name my brother loves best in the world. You have +such a sweet face,” said the child, earnestly. “I would choose +the name of some flower as just suited to you. I should have +thought of Lily, Rose, Pansy, or Violet, but I should never +have thought of anything one half so pretty as Daisy; it just +suits you.”</p> +<p>All through her life Daisy felt that to be the sweetest compliment +ever paid her. Daisy laughed––the only happy laugh +that had passed her lips since she had met Rex that morning +under the magnolia-tree.</p> +<p>“Shall I tell you what my brother said about daisies?”</p> +<p>“Yes, you may tell me, if you like,” Daisy answered, observing +the child delighted to talk of her brother.</p> +<p>“He has been away for a long time,” explained Birdie. +“He only came home last night, and I cried myself to sleep, I +was so glad. You see,” said the child, growing more confidential, +and nestling closer to Daisy’s side, and opening wide +her great brown eyes, “I was crying for fear he would bring +home a wife, and mamma was crying for fear he wouldn’t. I +wrote him a letter all by myself once, and begged him not to +marry, but come home all alone, and you see he did,” cried +the child, overjoyed. “When he answered my letter, he inclosed +a little pressed flower, with a golden heart and little +white leaves around it, saying: ‘There is no flower like the +daisy for me. I shall always prize them as pearls beyond price.’ +I planted a whole bed of them beneath his window, and I +placed a fresh vase of them in his room, mingled with some +forget-me-nots, and when he saw them, he caught me in his +arms, and cried as though his heart would break.”</p> +<p>If the white fleecy clouds in the blue sky, the murmuring +sea, or the silver-throated bobolink swinging in the green leafy +bough above her head, had only whispered to Daisy why he +loved the flowers so well which bore the name of daisy, how +much misery might have been spared two loving hearts! The +gray, dusky shadows of twilight were creeping up from the sea.</p> +<p>“Oh, see how late it is growing,” cried Birdie, starting up +in alarm. “I am afraid you could not carry me up to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +porch. If you could only summon a servant, or––or––my +brother.”</p> +<p>For answer, Daisy raised the slight burden in her arms with +a smile.</p> +<p>“I like you more than I can tell,” said Birdie, laying her +soft, pink, dimpled cheek against Daisy’s. “Won’t you come +often to the angle in the stone wall? That is my favorite +nook. I like to sit there and watch the white sails glide by +over the white crested waves.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Daisy, “I will come every day.”</p> +<p>“Some time I may bring my brother with me; you must +love him, too, won’t you?”</p> +<p>“I should love any one who had you for a sister,” replied +Daisy, clasping the little figure she held still closer in her +arms; adding, in her heart: “You are so like him.”</p> +<p>Birdie gave her such a hearty kiss, that the veil twined +round her hat tumbled about her face like a misty cloud.</p> +<p>“You must put me down while you fix your veil,” said +Birdie. “You can not see with it so. There are huge stones +in the path, you would stumble and fall.”</p> +<p>“So I shall,” assented Daisy, as she placed the child down +on the soft, green grass.</p> +<p>At that instant swift, springy footsteps came hurriedly down +the path, and a voice, which seemed to pierce her very heart, +called: “Birdie, little Birdie, where are you?”</p> +<p>“Here, Brother Rex,” called the child, holding out her +arms to him with eager delight. “Come here, Rex, and carry +me; I have broken my crutch.”</p> +<p>For one brief instant the world seemed to stand still around +poor, hapless Daisy, the forsaken girl-bride. The wonder was +that she did not die, so great was her intense emotion. Rex +was standing before her––the handsome, passionate lover, who +had married her on the impulse of the moment; the man whom +she loved with her whole heart, at whose name she trembled, +of whom she had made an idol in her girlish heart, and worshiped––the +lover who had vowed so earnestly he would shield +her forever from the cold, cruel world, who had sworn eternal +constancy, while the faithful gleaming stars watched him from +the blue sky overhead.</p> +<p>Yes, it was Rex! She could not see through the thick, +misty veil, how pale his face was in the gathering darkness. +Oh, Heaven! how her passionate little heart went out to him! +How she longed, with a passionate longing words could not +tell, to touch his hand, or rest her weary head on his breast.</p> +<p>Her brain whirled; she seemed, to live ages in those few moments. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +Should she throw herself on her knees, and cry out +to him, “Oh, Rex, Rex, my darling! I am <i>not</i> guilty! Listen +to me, my love. Hear my pleading––listen to my prayer! I +am more sinned against than sinning. My life has been as +pure as an angel’s––take me back to your heart, or I shall +die!”</p> +<p>“She has been so good to me, Rex,” whispered Birdie, clinging +to the veil which covered Daisy’s face. “I broke my +crutch, and she has carried me from the stone wall; won’t you +please thank her for me, brother?”</p> +<p>Daisy’s heart nearly stopped beating; she knew the eventful +moment of her life had come, when Rex, her handsome young +husband, turned courteously toward her, extending his hand +with a winning smile.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX' id='CHAPTER_XIX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +</div> +<p>On the day following Rex’s return home, and the morning +preceding the events narrated in our last chapter, Mrs. +Theodore Lyon sat in her dressing-room eagerly awaiting her +son; her eyebrows met in a dark frown and her jeweled hands +were locked tightly together in her lap.</p> +<p>“Rex is like his father,” she mused; “he will not be +coerced in this matter of marriage. He is reckless and willful, +yet kind of heart. For long years I have set my heart +upon this marriage between Rex and Pluma Hurlhurst. I say +again it must be!” Mrs. Lyon idolized her only son. “He +would be a fitting mate for a queen,” she told herself. The +proud, peerless beauty of the haughty young heiress of Whitestone +Hall pleased her. “She and no other shall be Rex’s +wife,” she said.</p> +<p>When Rex accepted the invitation to visit Whitestone Hall +she smiled complacently.</p> +<p>“It can end in but one way,” she told herself; “Rex will +bring Pluma home as his bride.”</p> +<p>Quite unknown to him, his elegant home had been undergoing +repairs for months.</p> +<p>“There will be nothing wanting for the reception of his +bride,” she said, viewing the magnificent suites of rooms which +contained every luxury that taste could suggest or money procure.</p> +<p>Then came Rex’s letter like a thunderbolt from a clear sky +begging her not to mention the subject again, as he could +never marry Pluma Hurlhurst.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></div> +<p>“I shall make a flying trip home,” he said, “then I am +going abroad.”</p> +<p>She did not notice how white and worn her boy’s handsome +face had grown when she greeted him the night before, in the +flickering light of the chandelier. She would not speak to +him then of the subject uppermost in her mind.</p> +<p>“Retire to your room at once, Rex,” she said, “your +journey has wearied you. See, it is past midnight already. I +will await you to-morrow morning in my boudoir; we will +breakfast there together.”</p> +<p>She leaned back against the crimson velvet cushions, tapping +her satin quilted slipper restlessly on the thick velvet +carpet, ever and anon glancing at her jeweled watch, wondering +what could possibly detain Rex.</p> +<p>She heard the sound of a quick, familiar footstep in the +corridor; a moment later Rex was by her side. As she +stooped down to kiss his face she noticed, in the clear morning +light, how changed he was. Her jeweled hands lingered +on his dark curls and touched his bright, proud face. “What +had come over this handsome, impetuous son of hers?” she +asked herself.</p> +<p>“You have been ill, Rex,” she said, anxiously, “and you +have not told me.”</p> +<p>“I have not, indeed, mother,” he replied.</p> +<p>“Not ill? Why, my dear boy, your face is haggard and +worn, and there are lines upon it that ought not to have been +there for years. Rex,” she said, drawing him down on the +sofa beside her, and holding his strong white hands tightly +clasped in her own, “I do not want to tease you or bring +up an unpleasant subject, but I had so hoped, my boy, you +would not come alone. I have hoped and prayed, morning +and night, you would bring home a bride, and that bride +would be––Pluma Hurlhurst.”</p> +<p>Rex staggered from her arms with a groan. He meant to +tell her the whole truth, but the words seemed to fail him.</p> +<p>“Mother,” he said, turning toward her a face white with +anguish, “in Heaven’s name, never mention love or marriage +to me again or I shall go mad. I shall never bring a +bride here.”</p> +<p>“He has had a quarrel with Pluma,” she thought.</p> +<p>“Rex,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and +looking down into his face, “tell me, has Pluma Hurlhurst +refused you? Tell me what is the matter, Rex. I am your +mother, and I have the right to know. The one dream of my +life has been to see Pluma your wife; I can not give up that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +hope. If it is a quarrel it can be easily adjusted; ‘true love +never runs smooth,’ you know.”</p> +<p>“It is not that, mother,” said Rex, wearily bowing his head +on his hands.</p> +<p>Then something like the truth seemed to dawn upon her.</p> +<p>“My son,” she said, in a slight tone of irritation, “Pluma +wrote me of that little occurrence at the lawn fête. Surely +you are not in love with that girl you were so foolishly attentive +to––the overseer’s niece, I believe it was. I can not, I +will not, believe a son of mine could so far forget his pride as +to indulge in such mad, reckless folly. Remember, Rexford,” +she cried, in a voice fairly trembling with suppressed +rage, “I could never forgive such an act of recklessness. She +should never come here, I warn you.”</p> +<p>“Mother,” said Rex, raising his head proudly, and meeting +the flashing scorn of her eyes unflinchingly, “you must not +speak so; I––can not listen to it.”</p> +<p>“By what right do you forbid me to speak of that girl as I +choose?” she demanded, in a voice hard and cold with intense +passion.</p> +<p>Once or twice Rex paced the length of the room, his arms +folded upon his breast. Suddenly he stopped before her.</p> +<p>“What is this girl to you?” she asked.</p> +<p>With white, quivering lips Rex answered back:</p> +<p>“She is my wife!”</p> +<p>The words were spoken almost in a whisper, but they echoed +like thunder through the room, and seemed to repeat themselves, +over and over again, during the moment of utter +silence that ensued. Rex had told his pitiful secret, and felt +better already, as if the worst was over; while his mother stood +motionless and dumb, glaring upon him with a baleful light in +her eyes. He had dashed down in a single instant the hopes +she had built up for long years.</p> +<p>“Let me tell you about it, mother,” he said, kneeling at +her feet. “The worst and bitterest part is yet to come.”</p> +<p>“Yes, tell me,” his mother said, hoarsely.</p> +<p>Without lifting up his bowed head, or raising his voice, +which was strangely sad and low, Rex told his story––every +word of it: how his heart had went out to the sweet-faced, +golden-haired little creature whom he found fast asleep under +the blossoming magnolia-tree in the morning sunshine; how +he protected the shrinking, timid little creature from the cruel +insults of Pluma Hurlhurst; how he persuaded her to marry +him out in the starlight, and how they had agreed to meet on +the morrow––that morrow on which he found the cottage +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +empty and his child-bride gone; of his search for her, and––oh, +cruelest and bitterest of all!––where and with whom he +found her; how he had left her lying among the clover, loving +her too madly to curse her, yet praying Heaven to strike him +dead then and there. Daisy––sweet little, blue-eyed Daisy +was false; he never cared to look upon a woman’s face again. +He spoke of Daisy as his wife over and over again, the name +lingering tenderly on his lips. He did not see how, at the +mention of the words, “My wife,” his mother’s face grew +more stern and rigid, and she clutched her hands so tightly +together that the rings she wore bruised her tender flesh, yet +she did not seem to feel the pain.</p> +<p>She saw the terrible glance that leaped into his eyes when he +mentioned Stanwick’s name, and how he ground his teeth, +like one silently breathing a terrible curse. Then his voice +fell to a whisper.</p> +<p>“I soon repented of my harshness,” he said, “and I went +back to Elmwood; but, oh, the pity of it––the pity of it––I +was too late; little Daisy, my bride, was dead! She had +thrown herself down a shaft in a delirium. I would have +followed her, but they held me back. I can scarcely realize it, +mother,” he cried. “The great wonder is that I do not go +insane.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Lyon had heard but one word––“Dead.” This girl +who had inveigled her handsome son into a low marriage was +dead. Rex was free––free to marry the bride whom she had +selected for him. Yet she dare not mention that thought to +him now––no, not now; she must wait a little.</p> +<p>No pity lurked in her heart for the poor little girl-bride +whom she supposed lying cold and still in death, whom her +son so wildly mourned; she only realized her darling Rex was +free. What mattered it to her at what bitter a cost Rex was +free? She should yet see her darling hopes realized. Pluma +should be his wife, just as sure as they both lived.</p> +<p>“I have told you all now, mother,” Rex said, in conclusion; +“you must comfort me, for Heaven knows I need all of your +sympathy. You will forgive me, mother,” he said. “You +would have loved Daisy, too, if you had seen her; I shall always +believe, through some enormous villainy, Stanwick must +have tempted her. I shall follow him to the ends of the earth. +I shall wring the truth from his lips. I must go away,” he +cried––“anywhere, everywhere, trying to forget my great +sorrow. How am I to bear it? Has Heaven no pity, that +I am so sorely tried?”</p> +<p>At that moment little Birdie came hobbling into the room, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +and for a brief moment Rex forgot his great grief in greeting +his little sister.</p> +<p>“Oh, you darling brother Rex,” she cried, clinging to him +and laughing and crying in one breath, “I told them to wake +me up sure, if you came in the night. I dreamed I heard your +voice. You see, it must have been real, but I couldn’t wake +up; and this morning I heard every one saying: ‘Rex is here, +Rex is here,’ and I couldn’t wait another moment, but I came +straight down to you.”</p> +<p>Rex kissed the pretty little dimpled face, and the little +chubby hands that stroked his hair so tenderly.</p> +<p>“Why, you have been crying, Rex,” she cried out, in childish +wonder. “See, there are tear-drops on your eyelashes––one +fell on my hand. What is the matter, brother dear, are +you not happy?”</p> +<p>Birdie put her two little soft white arms around his neck, +laying her cheek close to his in her pretty, childish, caressing +way.</p> +<p>He tried to laugh lightly, but the laugh had no mirth in it.</p> +<p>“You must run away and play, Birdie, and not annoy your +brother,” said Mrs. Lyon, disengaging the child’s clinging +arms from Rex’s neck. “That child is growing altogether +too observing of late.”</p> +<p>“Child!” cried Birdie. “I am ten years old. I shall soon +be a young lady like Bess and Gertie, over at Glengrove.”</p> +<p>“And Eve,” suggested Rex, the shadow of a smile flickering +around his mouth.</p> +<p>“No, not like Eve,” cried the child, gathering up her +crutch and sun-hat as she limped toward the door; “Eve is +not a young lady, she’s a Tom-boy; she wears short dresses and +chases the hounds around, while the other two wear silk +dresses with big, big trains and have beaus to hold their fans +and handkerchiefs. I am going to take my new books you sent +me down to my old seat on the stone wall and read those +pretty stories there. I don’t know if I will be back for lunch +or not,” she called back; “if I don’t, will you come for me, +Brother Rex?”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear,” he made answer, “of course I will.”</p> +<p>The lunch hour came and went, still Birdie did not put in +an appearance. At last Rex was beginning to feel uneasy +about her.</p> +<p>“You need not be the least alarmed,” said Mrs. Lyon, +laughingly, “the child is quite spoiled; she is like a romping +gypsy, more content to live out of doors in a tent than to +remain indoors. She is probably waiting down on the stone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +wall for you to come for her and carry her home as you used +to do. You had better go down and see, Rex; it is growing +quite dark.”</p> +<p>And Rex, all unconscious of the strange, invisible thread +which fate was weaving so closely about him, quickly made his +way through the fast-gathering darkness down the old familiar +path which led through the odorous orange groves to the old +stone wall, guided by the shrill treble of Birdie’s childish +voice, which he heard in the distance, mingled with the plaintive +murmur of the sad sea-waves––those waves that seemed +ever murmuring in their song the name of Daisy. Even the +subtle breeze seemed to whisper of her presence.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX' id='CHAPTER_XX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX.</h2> +</div> +<p>“I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered +my little sister,” said Rex, extending his hand to the little +veiled figure standing in the shade of the orange-trees. “Allow +me to thank you for it.”</p> +<p>Poor Daisy! she dared not speak lest the tones of her voice +should betray her identity.</p> +<p>“I must for evermore be as one dead to him,” she whispered +to her wildly beating heart.</p> +<p>Rex wondered why the little, fluttering, cold fingers dropped +so quickly from his clasp; he thought he heard a stifled sigh; +the slight, delicate form looked strangely familiar, yet he +could see it was neither Eve, Gerty, nor Bess. She bowed +her head with a few low-murmured words he scarcely caught, +and the next instant the little figure was lost to sight in the +darkness beyond.</p> +<p>“Who was that, Birdie?” he asked, scarcely knowing what +prompted the question.</p> +<p>Alas for the memory of childhood! poor little Birdie had +quite forgotten.</p> +<p>“It is so stupid of me to forget, but when I see her again I +shall ask her and try and remember it then.”</p> +<p>“It is of no consequence,” said Rex, raising the little figure +in his arms and bearing her quickly up the graveled path to +the house.</p> +<p>As he neared the house Rex observed there was great confusion +among the servants; there was a low murmur of voices +and lights moving to and fro.</p> +<p>“What is the matter, Parker?” cried Rex, anxiously, of +the servant who came out to meet him.</p> +<p>“Mrs. Lyon is very ill, sir,” he answered, gravely; “it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +is a paralytic stroke the doctor says. We could not find you, +so we went for Doctor Elton at once.”</p> +<p>It seemed but a moment since he had parted from his +mother in the gathering twilight, to search for Birdie. His +mother very ill––dear Heaven! he could scarcely realize it.</p> +<p>“Oh, take me to mother, Rex!” cried Birdie, clinging to +him piteously. “Oh, it can not, it cannot be true; take me to +her, Rex!”</p> +<p>The sound of hushed weeping fell upon his ears and seemed +to bring to him a sense of what was happening. Like one in +a dream he hurried along the corridor toward his mother’s +boudoir. He heard his mother’s voice calling for him.</p> +<p>“Where is my son?” she moaned.</p> +<p>He opened the door quietly and went in. Her dark eyes +opened feebly as Rex entered, and she held out her arms to +him.</p> +<p>“Oh, my son, my son!” she cried; “thank Heaven you are +here!”</p> +<p>She clung to him, weeping bitterly. It was the first time he +had ever seen tears in his mother’s eyes, and he was touched +beyond words.</p> +<p>“It may not be as bad as you think, mother,” he said; +“there is always hope while there is life.”</p> +<p>She raised her face to her son’s, and he saw there was a +curious whiteness upon it.</p> +<p>The large, magnificent room was quite in shadow; soft shadows +filled the corners; the white statuettes gleamed in the +darkness; one blind was half drawn, and through it came the +soft, sweet moonlight. A large night-lamp stood upon the +table, but it was carefully shaded. Faint glimmers of light +fell upon the bed, with its costly velvet hangings, and on the +white, drawn face that lay on the pillows, with the gray +shadow of death stealing softly over it––the faint, filmy look +that comes only into eyes that death has begun to darken.</p> +<p>His mother had never been demonstrative; she had never +cared for many caresses; but now her son’s love seemed her +only comfort.</p> +<p>“Rex,” she said, clinging close to him, “I feel that I am +dying. Send them all away––my hours are numbered––a mist +rises before my face, Rex. Oh, dear Heaven! I can not see +you––I have lost my sight––my eyes grow dim.”</p> +<p>A cry came from Rex’s lips.</p> +<p>“Mother, dear mother,” he cried, “there is no pain in this +world I would not undergo for your dear sake!” he cried, kissing +the stiffening lips.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span></div> +<p>She laid her hands on the handsome head bent before her.</p> +<p>“Heaven bless you, my son,” she murmured. “Oh, Rex, +my hope and my trust are in you!” she wailed. “Comfort +me, calm me––I have suffered so much. I have one last dying +request to make of you, my son. You will grant my prayer, +Rex? Surely Heaven would not let you refuse my last request!”</p> +<p>Rex clasped her in his arms. This was his lady-mother, +whose proud, calm, serene manner had always been perfect––whose +fair, proud face had never been stained with tears––whose +lips had never been parted with sighs or worn with entreaties.</p> +<p>It was so new to him, so terrible in its novelty, he could +hardly understand it. He threw his arms around her, and +clasped her closely to his breast.</p> +<p>“My dearest mother,” he cried, “you know I would die for +you if dying would benefit you. Why do you doubt my willingness +to obey your wishes, whatever they may be? Whatever +I can do to comfort you I will surely do it, mother.”</p> +<p>“Heaven bless you, Rex!” she cried, feebly caressing his +face and his bands. “You make death a thousand-fold more +easy to bear, my darling, only son!”</p> +<p>“My dear sir,” said the doctor, bending over him gently, +“I must remind you your mother’s life hangs on a thread. +The least excitement, the least agitation, and she will be dead +before you can call for help. No matter what she may say to +you, listen and accede.”</p> +<p>Rex bent down and kissed the pale, agitated face on the +pillow.</p> +<p>“I will be careful of my dearest mother. Surely you may +trust me,” he said.</p> +<p>“I do,” replied the doctor, gravely. “Your mother’s life, +for the present, lies in your hands.”</p> +<p>“Is it true, Rex, that I must die?” she gasped. The look +of anguish on his face answered her. “Rex,” she whispered, +clinging like a child to his strong white hands, “my hope and +trust are in you, my only son. I am going to put your love +to the test, my boy. I beseech you to say ‘Yes’ to the last +request I shall ever make of you. Heaven knows, Rex, I +would not mention it now, but I am dying––yes, dying, Rex.”</p> +<p>“You need not doubt it, mother,” he replied, earnestly, +“I can not refuse anything you may ask! Why should I?”</p> +<p>But, as he spoke, he had not the faintest idea of what he +would be asked to do. As he spoke his eyes caught the gleam +of the moonlight through the window, and his thoughts traveled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +for one moment to the beloved face he had seen in the +moonlight––how fair and innocent the face was as they parted +on the night they were wed! The picture of that lonely young +girl-wife, going home by herself, brought tears to his eyes.</p> +<p>“Was there ever a fate so cruel?” he said to himself. +“Who ever lost a wife on his wedding-day?”</p> +<p>Surely there had never been a love-dream so sweet, so passionate, +or so bright as his. Surely there had never been one +so rudely broken.</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy––his wife––lying cold and still in death. +Even his mother was to be taken from him.</p> +<p>The feeble pressure of his mother’s hands recalled his +wandering thoughts.</p> +<p>“Listen, Rex,” she whispered, faintly, “my moments are +precious.”</p> +<p>He felt his mother’s arms clasp closely round his neck.</p> +<p>“Go on, mother,” he said, gently.</p> +<p>“Rex, my son,” she whispered, gaspingly, “I could not +die and leave the words unspoken. I want my race to live +long generations after me. Your poor little lame sister will +go unmarried to the grave; and now all rests with you, my +only son. You understand me, Rex; you know the last request +I have to ask.”</p> +<p>For the first time a cry came to Rex’s lips; her words pierced +like a sword in his heart.</p> +<p>“Surely, mother, you do not mean––you do not think I +could ever––”</p> +<p>The very horror of the thought seemed to completely unman +him.</p> +<p>“You will marry again,” she interrupted, finishing the +sentence he could not utter. “Remember, she whom you +loved is dead. I would not have asked this for long years to +come, but I am dying––I must speak now.”</p> +<p>“My God, mother!” he cried out in agony, “ask anything +but that. My heart is torn and bleeding; have pity on me, +have pity!”</p> +<p>Great drops of agony started on his brow; his whole frame +shook with agitation.</p> +<p>He tried to collect himself, to gather his scattered thoughts, +to realize the full import of the words she had spoken.</p> +<p>Marry again! Heaven pity him! How could he harbor such +a thought for a single instant, when he thought of the pale, +cold face of little Daisy––his fair young bride––whom he so +madly loved, lying pale and still in death, like a broken lily, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +down in the dark, bottomless pit which never yielded up its +terrible secrets!</p> +<p>“Rex,” wailed his mother, feebly, gazing into his eyes with +a suspense heart-breaking to witness, “don’t refuse me this +the first prayer I had ever made. If you mean to refuse +it would be kinder far to plunge a dagger into my heart and +let me die at once. You can not refuse.” One trembling +hand she laid on his breast, and with the other caressed his +face. “You are good and gentle of heart, Rex; the prayers +of your dying mother will touch you. Answer me, my son; +tell me my proud old race shall not die with you, and I will +rest calmly in my grave.”</p> +<p>The cold night-wind fanned his pallid brow, and the blood +coursed through his veins like molten lead. He saw the tears +coursing down her pale, withered cheeks. Ah, God! was it +brave to speak the words which must bring despair and death +to her? Was it filial to send his mother to her grave with +sorrow and sadness in her heart? Could he thrust aside his +mother’s loving arms and resist her dying prayer? Heaven +direct him, he was so sorely tried.</p> +<p>“Comfort me, Rex,” she whispered, “think of how I have +loved you since you were a little child, how I used to kiss your +rosy little face and dream what your future would be like. It +comes back to me now while I plead to you with my fast-fleeting +breath. Oh, answer me, Rex.”</p> +<p>All the love and tenderness of the young man’s impulsive +heart was stirred by the words. Never was a man so fearfully +tried. Rex’s handsome face had grown white with emotion; +deep shadows came into his eyes. Ah, what could it matter +now? His hopes were dead, his heart crushed, yet how could +he consent?</p> +<p>“Oh, Heaven, Rex!” she cried, “what does that look on +your face mean? What is it?”</p> +<p>The look of terror on her face seemed to force the mad +words from his lips, the magnetic gaze seemed to hold him +spellbound. He bent over hie mother and laid his fresh, brave +young face on the cold, white face of his dying mother.</p> +<p>“Promise me, Rex,” she whispered.</p> +<p>“I promise, mother!” he cried. “God help me; if it will +make your last moments happier, I consent.”</p> +<p>“Heaven bless you, my noble son!” whispered the quivering +voice. “You have taken the bitter sting from death, and +filled my heart with gratitude. Some day you will thank me +for it, Rex.”</p> +<p>They were uttered! Oh, fatal words! Poor Rex, wedded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +and parted, his love-dream broken, how little he knew of the +bitter grief which was to accrue from that promise wrung +from his white lips.</p> +<p>Like one in a dream he heard her murmur the name of +Pluma Hurlhurst. The power of speech seemed denied him; +he knew what she meant. He bowed his head on her cold +hands.</p> +<p>“I have no heart to give her,” he said, brokenly. “My +heart is with Daisy, my sweet little lost love.”</p> +<p>Poor Rex! how little he knew Daisy was at that self-same +moment watching with beating heart the faint light of his +window through the branches of the trees––Daisy, whom he +mourned as dead, alas! dead to him forever, shut out from his +life by the rash words of that fatally cruel promise.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI' id='CHAPTER_XXI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +</div> +<p>One thought only was uppermost in Daisy’s mind as she +sped swiftly down the flower-bordered path in the moonlight, +away from the husband who was still so dear to her.</p> +<p>“He did not recognize me,” she panted, in a little quivering +voice. “Would he have cursed me, I wonder, had he +known it was I?”</p> +<p>Down went the little figure on her knees in the dew-spangled +grass with a sharp little cry.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, what shall I do?” she cried out in sudden fright. +“How could I know she was his sister when I told her my +name?” A twig fell from the bough above her head brushed +by some night-bird’s wing. “He is coming to search for me,” +she whispered to herself.</p> +<p>A tremor ran over her frame; the color flashed into her +cheek and parted lips, and a startled, wistful brightness crept +into the blue eyes.</p> +<p>Ah! there never could have been a love so sweetly trustful +and child-like as little Daisy’s for handsome Rex, her husband +in name only.</p> +<p>Poor, little, innocent Daisy! if she had walked straight back +to him, crying out, “Rex, Rex, see, I am Daisy, your wife!” +how much untold sorrow might have been spared her.</p> +<p>Poor, little, lonely, heart-broken child-bride! how was she +to know Rex had bitterly repented and come back to claim +her, alas! too late; and how he mourned her, refusing to be +comforted, and how they forced him back from the edge of +the treacherous shaft lest he should plunge headlong down the +terrible depths. Oh, if she had but known all this!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></div> +<p>If Rex had dropped down from the clouds she could not +have been more startled and amazed at finding him in such +close proximity away down in Florida.</p> +<p>She remembered he had spoken to her of his mother, as he +clasped her to his heart out in the starlight of that never-to-be-forgotten +night, whispering to her of the marriage which +had been the dearest wish of his mother’s heart.</p> +<p>She remembered how she had hid her happy, rosy, blushing +face on his breast, and asked him if he was quite sure he loved +her better than Pluma Hurlhurst, the haughty, beautiful +heiress.</p> +<p>“Yes, my pretty little sweetheart, a thousand times better,” +he had replied, emphatically, holding her off at arm’s-length, +watching the heightened color that surged over the dainty, +dimpled face so plainly discernible in the white, radiant +starlight.</p> +<p>Daisy rested her head on one soft, childish hand, and gazed +thoughtfully up at the cold, brilliant stars that gemmed the +heavens above her.</p> +<p>“Oh, if you had only warned me, little stars!” she said. +“I was so happy then; and now life is so bitter!”</p> +<p>A sudden impulse seized her, strong as her very life, to look +upon his face again.</p> +<p>“I would be content to live my weary life out uncomplainingly +then,” she said.</p> +<p>Without intent or purpose she walked hurriedly back +through the pansy-bordered path she had so lately traversed.</p> +<p>The grand old trees seemed to stretch their giant arms protectingly +over her, as if to ward off all harm.</p> +<p>The night-wind fanned her flushed cheeks and tossed her +golden curls against her wistful, tear-stained face. Noiselessly +she crept up the wide, graveled path that led to his home––the +home which should have been hers.</p> +<p>Was it fancy? She thought she heard Rex’s voice crying +out: “Daisy, my darling!” How pitifully her heart thrilled! +Dear Heaven! if it had only been true. It was only the restless +murmur of the waves sighing among the orange-trees.</p> +<p>A light burned dimly in an upper window. Suddenly a +shadow fell across the pale, silken curtains. She knew but +too well whose shadow it was; the proud, graceful poise of the +handsome head, and the line of the dark curls waving over the +broad brow, could belong to no one but Rex. There was no +one but the pitying moonlight out there to see how passionately +the poor little child-bride kissed the pale roses on which that +shadow had fallen, and how she broke it from the stem and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +placed it close to her beating heart––that lonely, starved little +heart, chilled under the withering frost of neglect, when life, +love and happiness should have been just bursting into bloom +for her.</p> +<p>“He said I had spoiled his life,” she sighed, leaning her +pale face wearily against the dark-green ivy vines. “He must +have meant I had come between him and Pluma. Will he go +back to her, now that he believes me dead?”</p> +<p>One question alone puzzled her: Had Birdie mentioned her +name, and would he know it was she, whom every one believed +lying so cold and still in the bottomless pit? She could not +tell.</p> +<p>“If I could but see Birdie for a moment,” she thought, +“and beseech her to keep my secret!”</p> +<p>Birdie had said her brother was soon going away again.</p> +<p>“How could I bear it?” she asked herself, piteously.</p> +<p>It was not in human nature to see the young husband whom +she loved so well drifting so completely away from her and +still remain silent. “I will watch over him from afar; I will +be his guardian angel; I must remain as one dead to him forever,” +she told herself.</p> +<p>Afar off, over the dancing, moonlighted waters she saw a +pleasure-boat gliding swiftly over the rippling waves. She +could hear their merry laughter and gay, happy voices, and +snatches of mirthful songs. Suddenly the band struck up an +old, familiar strain. Poor little Daisy leaned her head against +the iron railing of the porch and listened to those cruel words––the +piece that they played was “Love’s Young Dream.”</p> +<p>Love’s young dream! Ah! how cruelly hers had ended! +She looked up at the white, fleecy clouds above her, vaguely +wondering why the love of one person made the earth a very +paradise, or a wilderness. As the gay, joyous music floated +up to her the words of the poet found echo in her heart in a +passionate appeal:</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“No one could tell, for nobody knew,<br /> +Why love was made to gladden a few;<br /> +And hearts that would forever be true,<br /> +Go lone and starved the whole way through,”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>Oh, it was such a blessed relief to her to watch that shadow. +Rex was pacing up and down the room now, his arms folded +and his head bent on his breast. Poor, patient little Daisy, +watching alone out in the starlight, was wondering if he was +thinking of her.</p> +<p>No thought occurred to her of being discovered there with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +her arms clasped around that marble pillar watching so intently +the shadow of that graceful, manly figure pacing to +and fro.</p> +<p>No thought occurred to her that a strange event was at that +moment transpiring within those walls, or that something unusual +was about to happen.</p> +<p>How she longed to look upon his face for just one brief +moment! Estrangement had not chilled her trusting love, it +had increased it, rather, tenfold.</p> +<p>Surely it was not wrong to gaze upon that shadow––he was +her husband.</p> +<p>In that one moment a wild, bitter thought swept across her +heart.</p> +<p>Did Rex regret their marriage because she was poor, friendless, +and an orphan? Would it have been different if she had +been the heiress of Whitestone Hall?</p> +<p>She pitied herself for her utter loneliness. There was no +one to whom she could say one word of all that filled her heart +and mind, no face to kiss, no heart to lean on; she was so +completely alone. And this was the hour her fate was being +decided for her. There was no sympathy for her, her isolation +was bitter. She thought of all the heroines she had ever read +of. Ah, no one could picture such a sad fate as was hers.</p> +<p>A bright thought flashed across her lonely little heart.</p> +<p>“His mother is there,” she sighed. “Ah, if I were to go +to her and cry out: ‘Love me, love me! I am your son’s wife!’ +would she cast me from her? Ah, no, surely not; a woman’s +gentle heart beats in her breast, a woman’s tender pity. I +will plead with her on my knees––to comfort me––to show me +some path out of the pitiful darkness; I can love her because +she is his mother.”</p> +<p>Daisy drew her breath quickly; the color glowed warmly on +her cheek and lips; she wondered she had not thought of it +before. Poor child! she meant to tell her all, and throw herself +upon her mercy.</p> +<p>Her pretty, soft blue eyes, tender with the light of love, +were swimming with tears. A vain hope was struggling in +her heart––Rex’s mother might love her, because she worshiped +her only son so dearly.</p> +<p>Would she send her forth from that home that should have +sheltered her, or would she clasp those little cold fingers in +Rex’s strong white ones, as she explained to him, as only a +mother can, how sadly he had misjudged poor little Daisy––his +wife?</p> +<p>No wonder her heart throbbed pitifully as she stole silently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +across the wide, shadowy porch, and, quivering from head to +foot, touched the bell that echoed with a resounding sound +through the long entrance-hall.</p> +<p>“I would like to see Mrs. Lyon,” she said, hesitatingly, to +the servant who answered her summons. “Please do not refuse +me,” she said, clasping her little white hands pleadingly. +“I must see her at once. It is a question of life or death with +me. Oh, sir, please do not refuse me. I must see her at +once––and––all alone!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII' id='CHAPTER_XXII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +</div> +<p>In the beautiful drawing-room at Whitestone Hall sat +Pluma Hurlhurst, running her white, jeweled fingers lightly +over the keyboard of a grand piano, but the music evidently +failed to charm her. She arose listlessly and walked toward +the window, which opened out upon the wide, cool, rose-embowered +porch.</p> +<p>The sunshine glimmered on her amber satin robe, and the +white frost-work of lace at her throat, and upon the dark, rich +beauty of her southern face.</p> +<p>“Miss Pluma,” called Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, entering +the room, “there is a person down-stairs who wishes to see +you. I have told her repeatedly it is an utter impossibility––you +would not see her; but she declares she will not go away +until she does see you.”</p> +<p>Pluma turns from the window with cold disdain.</p> +<p>“You should know better than to deliver a message of this +kind to me. How dare the impertinent, presuming beggar +insist upon seeing me! Order the servants to put her out of +the house at once.”</p> +<p>“She is not young,” said the venerable housekeeper, “and +I thought, if you only would––”</p> +<p>“Your opinion was not called for, Mrs. Corliss,” returned +the heiress, pointing toward the door haughtily.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon,” the housekeeper made answer, “but +the poor creature begged so hard to see you I did feel a little +sorry for her.”</p> +<p>“This does not interest me, Mrs. Corliss,” said Pluma, +turning toward the window, indicating the conversation was at +an end––“not in the least.”</p> +<p>“The Lord pity you, you stony-hearted creature!” murmured +the sympathetic old lady to herself as the door closed +between them. “One word wouldn’t have cost you much, +Heaven knows, it’s mightly little comfort poor old master +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +takes with you! You are no more like the bonny race of +Hurlhursts than a raven is like a white dove!” And the poor +old lady walked slowly back to the dark-robed figure in the +hall, so eagerly awaiting her.</p> +<p>“There was no use in my going to my young mistress; I +knew she would not see you. But I suppose you are more +satisfied now.”</p> +<p>“She utterly refuses to see me, does she,” asked the woman, +in an agitated voice, “when you told her I wished to see her +particularly?”</p> +<p>The housekeeper shook her head.</p> +<p>“When Miss Pluma once makes up her mind to a thing, no +power on earth could change her mind,” she said; “and she +is determined she won’t see you, so you may as well consider +that the end of it.”</p> +<p>Without another word the stranger turned and walked slowly +down the path and away from Whitestone Hall.</p> +<p>“Fool that I was!” she muttered through her clinched +teeth. “I might have foreseen this. But I will haunt the +place day and night until I see you, proud heiress of Whitestone +Hall. We shall see––time will tell.”</p> +<p>Meanwhile Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was staring after +her with wondering eyes.</p> +<p>“I have heard that voice and seen that face somewhere,” +she ruminated, thoughtfully; “but where––where? There +seems to be strange leaks in this brain of mine––I can not remember.”</p> +<p>A heavy, halting step passed the door, and stopped there.</p> +<p>“What did that woman want, Mrs. Corliss?”</p> +<p>She started abruptly from her reverie, replying, hesitatingly.</p> +<p>“She wanted to see Miss Pluma, sir.”</p> +<p>“Was Pluma so busily engaged she could not spare that +poor creature a moment or so?” he inquired, irritably. +“Where is she?”</p> +<p>“In the parlor, sir.”</p> +<p>With slow, feeble steps, more from weakness than age, Basil +Hurlhurst walked slowly down the corridor to the parlor.</p> +<p>It was seldom he left his own apartments of late, yet Pluma +never raised her superb eyes from the book of engravings +which lay in her lap as he entered the room.</p> +<p>A weary smile broke under his silver-white mustache.</p> +<p>“You do not seem in a hurry to bid me welcome, Pluma,” +he said, grimly, throwing himself down into an easy-chair +opposite her. “I congratulate myself upon having such an +affectionate daughter.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></div> +<p>Pluma tossed aside her book with a yawn.</p> +<p>“Of course I am glad to see you,” she replied, carelessly; +“but you can not expect me to go into ecstasies over the +event like a child in pinafores might. You ought to take it +for granted that I’m glad you are beginning to see what utter +folly it is to make such a recluse of yourself.”</p> +<p>He bit his lip in chagrin. As is usually the case with invalids, +he was at times inclined to be decidedly irritable, as +was the case just now.</p> +<p>“It is you who have driven me to seek the seclusion of my +own apartments, to be out of sight and hearing of the household +of simpering idiots you insist upon keeping about you,” +he cried, angrily. “I came back to Whitestone Hall for peace +and rest. Do I get it? No.”</p> +<p>“That is not my fault,” she answered, serenely. “You do +not mingle with the guests. I had no idea they could annoy +you.”</p> +<p>“Well, don’t you suppose I have eyes and ears, even if I do +not mingle with the chattering magpies you fill the house up +with? Why, I can never take a ramble in the grounds of an +evening without stumbling upon a dozen or more pair of +simpering lovers at every turn. I like darkness and quiet. +Night after night I find the grounds strung up with these +Chinese lanterns, and I can not even sleep in my bed for the +eternal brass bands at night; and in the daytime not a moment’s +quiet do I get for these infernal sonatas and screeching +trills of the piano. I tell you plainly, I shall not stand this +thing a day longer. I am master of Whitestone Hall yet, and +while I live I shall have things my own way. After I die you +can turn it into a pandemonium, for all I care.”</p> +<p>Pluma flashed her large dark eyes upon him surprisedly, beginning +to lose her temper, spurred on by opposition.</p> +<p>“I am sure I do not mean to make a hermit of myself because +you are too old to enjoy the brightness of youth,” she +flashed out, defiantly; “and you ought not to expect it––it +is mean and contemptible of you.”</p> +<p>“Pluma!” echoed Basil Hurlhurst, in astonishment, his +noble face growing white and stern with suppressed excitement, +“not another word.”</p> +<p>Pluma tossed her head contemptuously. When once her +temper arose it was quite as impossible to check it as it was +when she was a willful, revengeful, spoiled child.</p> +<p>“Another man as rich as you are would have taken their +daughter to Washington for a season, and in the summer to +Long Branch or Newport––somewhere, anywhere, away from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +the detestable waving cotton-fields. When you die I shall have +it all set on fire.”</p> +<p>“Pluma!” he cried, hoarsely, rising to his feet and drawing +his stately, commanding figure to its full height, “I will not +brook such language from a child who should at least yield me +obedience, if not love. You are not the heiress of Whitestone +Hall yet, and you never may be. If I thought you really contemplated +laying waste these waving fields that have been my +pride for long years––and my father’s before me––I would will +it to an utter stranger, so help me Heaven!”</p> +<p>Were his words prophetic? How little she knew the echo of +these words were doomed to ring for all time down the corridors +of her life! How little we know what is in store for us!</p> +<p>“I am your only child,” said Pluma, haughtily; “you +would not rob me of my birthright. I shall be forced to submit +to your pleasure––while you are here––but, thank Heaven, +the time is not far distant when I shall be able to do as I +please. ‘The mills of the gods grind slowly, but they grind +exceeding fine,’” she quoted, saucily.</p> +<p>“Thank Heaven the time is not far distant when I shall be +able to do as I please.” He repeated the words slowly after +her, each one sinking into his heart like a poisoned arrow. +“So you would thank Heaven for my death, would you?” he +cried, with passion rising to a white heat. “Well, this is no +better than I could expect from the daughter––of such a +mother.”</p> +<p>He had never intended speaking those words; but she goaded +him on to it with her taunting, scornful smile, reminding +him so bitterly of the one great error of his past life.</p> +<p>He was little like the kind, courteous master of Whitestone +Hall, whom none named but to praise, as he stood there watching +the immovable face of his daughter. All the bitterness of +his nature was by passion rocked. No look of pain or anguish +touched the dark beauty of that southern face at the mention +of her mother’s name.</p> +<p>“You have spoken well,” she said. “I am her child. +You speak of love,” she cried, contemptuously. “Have you +not told me, a thousand times, you never cared for my mother? +How, then, could I expect you to care for me? Have you +not cried out unceasingly for the golden-haired young wife and +the babe you lost, and that you wished Heaven had taken +you too? Did I ever hear my mother’s name upon your lips +except with a sneer? Do you expect these things made that +mother’s child more fond of you, were you twenty times my +father?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span></div> +<p>She stood up before him, proudly defiant, like a beautiful +tragedy queen, the sunlight slanting on the golden vines of her +amber satin robe, on the long, dark, silken curls fastened with +a ruby star, and on the deep crimson-hearted passion-roses +that quivered on her heaving breast. There was not one feature +of that gloriously dark face that resembled the proud, cold +man sitting opposite her.</p> +<p>He knew all she had said was quite true. He had tried so +hard to love this beautiful queenly girl from her infancy up. +He was tender of heart, honest and true; but an insurmountable +barrier seemed ever between them; each year found them +further apart.</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst lived over again in those few moments the +terrible folly that had cursed his youth, as he watched the +passion-rocked face before him.</p> +<p>“Youth is blind and will not see,” had been too bitterly +true with him. It was in his college days, when the world +seemed all gayety, youth and sunshine to him, he first met +the beautiful face that was to darken all of his after life. He +was young and impulsive; he thought it was love that filled +his heart for the beautiful stranger who appeared alone and +friendless in that little college town.</p> +<p>He never once asked who or what she was, or from whence +she came, this beautiful creature with the large, dark, dreamy +eyes that thrilled his heart into love. She carried the town by +storm; every young man at the college was deeply, desperately +in love. But Basil, the handsomest and wealthiest of them +all, thought what a lark it would be to steal a march on them +all by marrying the dark-eyed beauty then and there. He not +only thought it, but executed it, but it was not the lark that +he thought it was going to be. For one short happy week he +lived in a fool’s paradise, then a change came over the spirit +of his dreams. In that one week she had spent his year’s income +and all the money he could borrow, then petulantly left +him in anger.</p> +<p>For two long years he never looked upon her face again. +One stormy night she returned quite unexpectedly at Whitestone +Hall, bringing with her their little child Pluma, and, +placing her in her father’s arms, bitter recriminations followed. +Bitterly Basil Hurlhurst repented that terrible mistake of his +youth, that hasty marriage.</p> +<p>When the morning light dawned he took his wife and child +from Whitestone Hall––took them abroad. What did it matter +to him where they went? Life was the same to him in one +part of the world as another. For a year they led a weary +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +life of it. Heaven only knew how weary he was of the woman +the law called his wife!</p> +<p>One night, in a desperate fit of anger, she threw herself into +the sea; her body was never recovered. Then the master of +Whitestone Hall returned with his child, a sadder and wiser +man.</p> +<p>But the bitterest drop in his cup had been added last. The +golden-haired young wife, the one sweet love whom he had +married last, was taken from him; even her little child, tiny +image of that fair young mother, had not been spared him.</p> +<p>How strange it was such a passionate yearning always came +over him when he thought of his child!</p> +<p>When he saw a fair, golden-haired young girl, with eyes of +blue, the pain in his heart almost stifled him. Some strange +unaccountable fate urged him to ever seek for that one face +even in the midst of crowds. It was a mad, foolish fancy, yet +it was the one consolation of Basil Hurlhurst’s weary, tempest +tossed life.</p> +<p>No wonder he set his teeth hard together as he listened to +the cold words of the proud, peerless beauty before him, who +bore every lineament of her mother’s dark, fatal beauty––this +daughter who scornfully spoke of the hour when he should die +as of some happy, long-looked-for event.</p> +<p>Those waving cotton-fields that stretched out on all sides +as far as the eye could reach, like a waving field of snow, laid +waste beneath the fire fiend’s scorching breath! Never––never!</p> +<p>Then and there the proud, self-conscious young heiress lost +all chances of reigning a regal queen, by <i>fair</i> means, of Whitestone +Hall.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII' id='CHAPTER_XXIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>The servant who opened the door for Daisy looked earnestly +at the fair, pleading young face, framed in rings of golden +hair, so pure and spiritual that it looked like an angel’s with +the soft white moonlight falling over it.</p> +<p>“You will not refuse me,” she repeated, timidly. “I +must speak to Mrs. Lyon.”</p> +<p>“You have come too late,” he replied, gently; “Mrs. Lyon +is dead.”</p> +<p>The man never forgot the despairing look of horror that +deepened in the childish blue eyes raised to his.</p> +<p>“Rex’s mother dead!” she repeated, slowly, wondering if +she had heard aright. “Oh, my poor Rex, my poor Rex!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span></div> +<p>How she longed to go to him and comfort him in that terrible +hour, but she dared not intrude upon him.</p> +<p>“If there is any message you would like to leave,” said the +kind-hearted Parker, “I will take it to Mr. Rex.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Daisy, shaking her head, “I have no message +to leave; perhaps I will come again––after this is all over,” she +made answer, hesitatingly; her brain was in a whirl; she wanted +to get away all by herself to think. “Please don’t say any +one was here,” she said, quickly; “I––I don’t want any one +to know.”</p> +<p>The sweet, plaintive voice, as sweet as the silvery note of a +forest bird, went straight to his heart.</p> +<p>Whatever the mission of this beautiful, mysterious visitor, +he would certainly respect her wishes.</p> +<p>“I shall not mention it if you do not wish it,” he said.</p> +<p>“Thank you,” she replied, simply; “you are very kind. +My life seems made up of disappointments,” she continued, as +she walked slowly home under the restless, sighing green +branches.</p> +<p>It seemed so indeed. She was so young and inexperienced +to be thrown so entirely upon the cold, pitiless world––cut off +so entirely from all human sympathy. She entered the +house quite unobserved. Eve––bright, merry, dashing Eve––was +singing like a lark in the drawing-room, making the old +house echo with her bright young voice.</p> +<p>“How happy she is!” thought Daisy, wistfully. “She has +home, friends, and love, while I have nothing that makes life +worth the living.”</p> +<p>Like a shadow, she flitted on through the dim, shadowy hall, +toward her own little room. She saw Gertie’s door was ajar +as she passed it, and the sound of her own name caused her to +pause voluntarily.</p> +<p>It was very natural for Daisy to pause. How many are +there who would have passed on quietly, with no desire to +know what was being said of themselves, when they heard their +own names mentioned in such a sneering manner? Daisy certainly +meant no harm by it; she paused, thoughtfully and +curiously, as any one would have done.</p> +<p>“I am sure I don’t like it,” Gertie was saying, spitefully. +“It is an actual shame allowing Daisy Brooks to remain here. +Uncle Jet was a mean old thing to send her here, where there +were three marriageable young ladies. I tell you he did it out +of pure spite.”</p> +<p>“I believe it,” answered Bess, spiritedly. “Every one of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +my beaus either hints for an introduction or asks for it outright.”</p> +<p>“What do you tell them?” questions Gertie, eagerly.</p> +<p>“Tell them! Why, I look exceedingly surprised, replying: +‘I do not know to whom you refer. We have no company at +the house just now.’ ‘I mean that beautiful, golden-haired +little fairy, with the rosy cheeks and large blue eyes. If not +your guest, may I ask who she is?’ I am certainly compelled +to answer so direct a thrust,” continued Bess, angrily; “and +I ask in well-feigned wonder: ‘Surely you do not mean Daisy +Brooks, my mother’s paid companion?’”</p> +<p>“What do they say to that?” asked Gertie, laughing heartily +at her elder sister’s ingenuity, and tossing her curl papers +until every curl threatened to tumble down. “That settles +it, doesn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Mercy, no!” cried Bess, raising her eyebrows; “not a bit +of it. The more I say against her––in a sweet way, of course––the +more they are determined to form her acquaintance.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see what every one can see in that little pink-and-white +baby-face of hers to rave over so!” cried Gertie, hotly. +“I can’t imagine where in the world people see her. I have +as much as told her she was not expected to come into the parlor +or drawing-room when strangers were there, and what do +you suppose she said?”</p> +<p>“Cried, perhaps,” said Bess, yawning with ennui.</p> +<p>“She did nothing of the kind,” retorted Gertie. “She +seized my hand, and said: ‘Oh, Miss Gertrude, that is very +kind of you, indeed! I thank you ever so much!’”</p> +<p>“Pshaw!” cried Bess, contemptuously. “That was a trick +to make you believe she did not want to be observed by our +guests. She is a sly, designing little creature, with her pretty +face and soft, childish ways.”</p> +<p>“But there is one point that seriously troubles me,” said +Gertie, fastening the pink satin bow on her tiny slipper more +securely, and breaking off the thread with a nervous twitch. +“I am seriously afraid, if Rex were to see her, that would be +the end of our castle in the air. Daisy Brooks has just the +face to attract a handsome, debonair young fellow like Rex.”</p> +<p>“You can depend upon it he shall never see her,” said +Bess, decidedly. “Where there’s a will there’s a way.”</p> +<p>“I have never been actually jealous of anyone before,” said +Gertie, flushing furiously, as she acknowledged the fact; “but +that Daisy has such a way of attracting people toward her +they quite forget your presence when she is around. ‘When +one rival leaves the field, another one is sure to come to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +fore.’ That’s a true saying,” said Gertie, meditatively. “You +see, he did not marry the heiress of Whitestone Hall. So he +is still in the market, to be captured by some lucky girl.”</p> +<p>“Well, if I am the lucky one, you must forgive me, Gertie. +All is fair in love and war, you know. Besides, his wealth is +too tempting to see slip quietly by without a struggle.”</p> +<p>Before she could reply Eve popped in through the long +French window that opened out on the porch.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m so tired of hearing you two talk of lovers and +riches!” she cried, throwing herself down on the sofa. “I +do hate to hear love weighed against riches, as if it were a purchasable +article. According to your ideas, if a fellow was worth +a hundred thousand, you would love him moderately; but if +he was worth half a million, you could afford to love him immensely.”</p> +<p>“You have got a sensible idea of the matter,” said Bess, +coolly.</p> +<p>“For shame!” cried Eve, in a hot fury. “It’s an actual +sin to talk in that way. If a handsome young man loves you, +and you love him, why, you ought to marry him if he hadn’t +a dollar in the world!”</p> +<p>Gertie and the worldly-wise Bess laughed at their younger +sister’s enthusiasm.</p> +<p>“Now, there’s Rex Lyon, for instance,” persisted Eve, absolutely +refusing to be silenced. “I would wager a box of the +best kid gloves either one of you would marry him to-morrow, +if he were to ask you, if he hadn’t a penny in his pocket.”</p> +<p>“Pshaw!” reiterated Gertie, and Bess murmured something +about absurd ideas; but nevertheless both sisters were blushing +furiously to the very roots of their hair. They well knew in +their hearts what she said was perfectly true.</p> +<p>“Eve,” said Bess, laying her hand coaxingly on the young +rebel’s arm, “Gertie and I want you to promise us something. +Come, now, consent that you will do as we wish, that’s a good +girl.”</p> +<p>“How can I promise before I know what you want?” said +Eve, petulantly. “You might want the man in the moon, +after you’ve tried and failed to get his earthly brethren, for +all I know!”</p> +<p>“Eve, you are actually absurd!” cried Bess, sharply. “This +is merely a slight favor we wish you to do.”</p> +<p>“If you warn her not to do a thing, that is just what she +will set her heart upon doing,” said Gertie, significantly.</p> +<p>By this time Eve’s curiosity was well up.</p> +<p>“You may as well tell me anyhow,” she said; “for if you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +don’t, and I ever find out what it is, I’ll do my very worst, +because you kept it from me.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Gertie, eagerly, “we want you to promise us +not to give Daisy Brooks an introduction to Rex Lyon.”</p> +<p>A defiant look stole over Eve’s mischievous face.</p> +<p>“If he asks me, I’m to turn and walk off, or I’m to say, +‘No, sir, I am under strict orders from my marriageable sisters +not to.’ Is that what you mean?”</p> +<p>“Eve,” they both cried in chorus, “don’t be unsisterly; +don’t put a stumbling-block in our path; rather remove it!”</p> +<p>“I shall not bind myself to such a promise!” cried Eve. +“You are trying to spoil my pet scheme. I believe you two +are actually witches and guessed it. What put it into your +heads that I had any such intentions anyhow?”</p> +<p>“Then you were actually thinking of going against our interest +in that way,” cried Gertie, white to the very lips, “you +insolent little minx!”</p> +<p>“I don’t choose to remain in such polite society,” said Eve, +with a mocking courtesy, skipping toward the door. “I may +take a notion to write a little note to Mr. Rex, inviting him +over here to see our household fairy, just as the spirit moves +me.”</p> +<p>This was really more than Gertie’s warm, southern temper +could bear. She actually flew at the offending Eve in her +rage; but Eve was nimble of foot and disappeared up the stairway, +three steps at a bound.</p> +<p>“What a vixen our Gertie is growing to be!” she cried, +pantingly, as she reached the top step.</p> +<p>She saw a light in Daisy’s room, and tapped quietly on the +door.</p> +<p>“Is that you, Eve?” cried a smothered voice from the pillows.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Eve; “I’d like very much to come in. +May I?”</p> +<p>For answer, Daisy opened the door, but Eve stood quite still +on the threshold.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, Daisy, have you been crying?” she +demanded. “Why, your eyelids are red and swollen, and +your eyes glow like the stars. Has Gertie or Bess said anything +cross to you?” she inquired, smoothing back the soft +golden curls that clustered round the white brow.</p> +<p>“No,” said Daisy, choking down a hard sob; “only I am +very unhappy, Eve, and I feel just––just as if every one in +the world hated me.”</p> +<p>“How long have you been up here in your room?” asked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +Eve, suspiciously, fearing Daisy had by chance overheard the +late conversation down-stairs.</p> +<p>“Quite an hour,” answered Daisy, truthfully.</p> +<p>“Then you did not hear what I was talking about down-stairs, +did you?” she inquired, anxiously.</p> +<p>“No,” said Daisy, “you were playing over a new waltz +when I came upstairs.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Eve, breathing freer, thinking to herself, “She +has not heard what we said. I am thankful for that.”</p> +<p>“You must not talk like that, Daisy,” she said, gayly, clasping +her arms caressingly around the slender figure leaning +against the casement; “I predict great things in store for you––wonderful +things. Do not start and look at me so curiously, +for I shall not tell you anything else, for it is getting dangerously +near a certain forbidden subject. You know you +warned me not to talk to you of love or lovers. I intend to +have a great surprise for you. That is all I’m going to tell +you now.”</p> +<p>Eve was almost frightened at the rapture that lighted up the +beautiful face raised to her own.</p> +<p>“Has any one called for me, Eve?” she asked, piteously. +“Oh, Eve, tell me quickly. I have hoped against hope, +almost afraid to indulge so sweet a dream. Has any one inquired +for me?”</p> +<p>Eve shook her head, sorely puzzled.</p> +<p>“Were you expecting any one to call?” she asked. She saw +the light die quickly out of the blue eyes and the rich peachlike +bloom from the delicate, dimpled cheeks. “I know something +is troubling you greatly, little Daisy,” she said, “and I +sympathize with you even if I may not share your secret.”</p> +<p>“Every one is so cold and so cruel to me, I think I should +die if I were to lose your friendship, Eve,” she said.</p> +<p>Eve held the girl’s soft white hand in hers. “You will +never die, then, if you wait for that event to happen. When +I like a person, I like them for all time. I never could pretend +a friendship I did not feel. And I said to myself the first +moment I saw you: ‘What a sweet littly fairy! I shall love +her, I’m sure.’”</p> +<p>“And do you love me?” asked Daisy.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Eve; “my friendship is a lasting one. I could +do almost anything for you.”</p> +<p>She wondered why Daisy took her face between her soft little +palms and looked so earnestly down into her eyes, and kissed +her lips so repeatedly.</p> +<p>Poor Daisy! if she had only confided in Eve––reckless, impulsive, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +warm-hearted, sympathetic Eve––it might have been +better for her. “No matter what you might hear of me in +the future, no matter what fate might tempt me to do, promise +me, Eve, that you, of all the world, will believe in me, you will +not lose your faith in me.” The sweet voice sounded hollow +and unnatural. “There are dark, pitiful secrets in many +lives,” she said, “that drive one to the very verge of madness +in their woe. If you love me, pray for me, Eve. My feet +are on the edge of a terrible precipice.”</p> +<p>In after years Eve never forgot the haunted look of despair +that crossed the fair face of Daisy Brooks, as the words broke +from her lips in a piteous cry.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIV' id='CHAPTER_XXIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +</div> +<p>The announcement of Mrs. Lyon’s sudden and unexpected +death caused great excitement and consternation the next +morning at Glengrove.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear!” cried Gertie, “how provokingly unfortunate +for her to die just now! Why couldn’t she have waited until +after our birthday party? Of course Rex wouldn’t be expected +to come now; and this whole matter was arranged especially +for him; and my beautiful lilac silk is all made, and so bewitchingly +lovely, too!”</p> +<p>“What can’t be cured must be endured, you know,” said +Bess; “and now the best thing to be done is to send a note of +condolence to him, extending our deepest sympathy, and offering +him any assistance in our power; and be sure to add: ‘We +would be very pleased to have Birdie come over here until you +can make other arrangements for her.’”</p> +<p>“Have Birdie here!” flashed Gertie, angrily. “I actually +think you have gone crazy!”</p> +<p>“Well, there is certainly a method in my madness,” remarked +Bess. “Aren’t you quick-witted enough to understand +that would be a sure way of bringing Rex over here every +day?––he would come to see his sister––and that is quite a +point gained.”</p> +<p>“You are rather clever, Bess; I never thought of that.”</p> +<p>And straightway the perfumed little note was dispatched, +bearing Gertie’s monogram and tender-worded sympathy to +the handsome young heir, who sat all alone in that darkened +chamber, wondering why Heaven had been so unkind to him.</p> +<p>An hour later Bess and Gertie were in the library arranging +some new volumes on the shelves. Mrs. Glenn sat in a large +easy-chair superintending the affair, while Daisy stood at an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +open window, holding the book from which she had been reading +aloud in her restless fingers, her blue eyes gazing earnestly +on the distant curling smoke that rose up lazily from the +chimneys of Rex’s home, and upon the brilliant sunshine that +lighted up the eastern windows with a blaze of glory––as if +there was no such thing as death or sorrow within those palatial +walls––when Rex’s answer was received.</p> +<p>“It is from Rex!” cried Gertie, all in a flutter. “Shall I +read it aloud, mamma?” she asked, glancing furtively at +Daisy, who stood at the window, her pale, death-like face half +buried in the lace curtains.</p> +<p>“It is certainly not a personal letter,” said Bess, maliciously +glancing at the superscription. “Don’t you see it is addressed +to ‘Mrs. Glenn and daughters.’”</p> +<p>“In a time like that people don’t think much of letters,” +commented Mrs. Glenn, apologetically. “Read the letter +aloud, of course, my dear.”</p> +<p>It read:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class='smcap'>Dear Ladies</span>,––I thank you more than I can express for +your kind sympathy in my present sad bereavement. I would +gladly have accepted your offer of bringing my dear little +orphan sister to you, had I not received a telegram this morning +from Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, West +Virginia, announcing her intention of coming on at once, accompanied +by Mrs. Corliss, to take charge of little Birdie.</p> +<p>“Again thanking you for the courtesy and kindness shown +me, I am</p> +<p class='ralign'>“Yours very truly,<span class='rindent8'> </span><br /> +“<span class='smcap'>Rexford Lyon</span>.”<span class='rindent4'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>There was a low, gasping, piteous cry; and the little figure +at the window slipped down among the soft, billowy curtains +in a deadly swoon; but the three, so deeply engrossed in discussing +the contents of the note, did not notice it. At last +Daisy opened her eyes, and the blue eyes were dazed with pain. +She could hear them coupling the names of Rex and Pluma +Hurlhurst. Rex––her husband!</p> +<p>Daisy was blind and stupefied. She groped rather than +walked from the library––away from the three, who scarcely +noticed her absence.</p> +<p>Who cared that her heart was broken? Who cared that the +cruel stab had gone home to her tender, bleeding heart; that +the sweet young face was whiter than the petals of the star-bells +tossing their white plumes against the casement?</p> +<p>Slowly, blindly, with one hand grasping the balusters, she +went up the broad staircase to her own room.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></div> +<p>She tried to think of everything on the way except the one +thing that had taken place. She thought of the story she had +read, of a girl who was slain by having a dagger plunged into +her breast. The girl ran a short distance, and when the dagger +was drawn from the wound, she fell down dead. In some +way she fancied she was like that girl––that, when she should +reach her own room and stand face to face with her own pain, +she should drop down dead.</p> +<p>The door was closed, and she stood motionless, trying to +understand and realize what she had heard.</p> +<p>“Have my senses deceived me?” She said the words over +and over to herself. “Did I dream it? Can it even be possible +Pluma Hurlhurst is coming here, coming to the home +where I should have been? God help me. Coming to comfort +Rex––my husband!”</p> +<p>She could fancy the darkly beautiful face bending over him; +her white jeweled hands upon his shoulder, or, perhaps, +smoothing back the bonny brown clustering curls from his +white brow.</p> +<p>“My place should have been by his side,” she continued.</p> +<p>It hurt and pained her to hear the name of the man she +loved dearer than life mentioned with the name of Pluma +Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>“Oh, Rex, my love, my love!” she cried out, “I can not +bear it any longer. The sun of my life has gone down in gloom +and chill. Oh, Rex, my husband, I have not the strength nor +the courage to bear it. I am a coward. I can not give you +up. We are living apart under the blue, smiling sky and the +golden sun. Yet in the sight of the angels, I am your wife.”</p> +<p>Suddenly, the solemn bells from Rex’s home commenced +tolling, and through the leafy branches of the trees she caught +a glimpse of a white face and bowed head, and of a proud, +cold face bending caressingly over it, just as she had pictured +it in her imagination.</p> +<p>Dear Heaven! it was Rex and Pluma! She did not moan. +She did not cry out, nor utter even a sigh. Like one turned +to marble she, the poor little misguided child-wife, stood +watching them with an intentness verging almost into madness.</p> +<p>She saw him lift his head wearily from his white hands, rise +slowly, and then, side by side, both disappeared from the window.</p> +<p>After that Daisy never knew how the moments passed. She +remembered the tidy little waiting-maid coming to her and +asking if she would please come down to tea. She shook her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +head but no sound issued from the white lips, and the maid +went softly away, closing the door behind her.</p> +<p>Slowly the sun sunk in the west in a great red ball of fire. +The light died out of the sky, and the song birds trilled their +plaintive good-night songs in the soft gloaming. Still Daisy +sat with her hands crossed in her lap, gazing intently at the +window, where she had seen Pluma standing with Rex, her +husband.</p> +<p>A hand turned the knob of her door.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear me,” cried Gertie, “you are all in the dark. I +do not see you. Are you here, Daisy Brooks?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Daisy, controlling her voice by a violent effort. +“Won’t you sit down? I will light the gas.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, indeed!” cried Gertie. “I came up to ask you if +you would please sew a little on my ball dress to-night. I can +not use it just now; still, there is no need of putting it away +half finished.”</p> +<p>Sew on a ball dress while her heart was breaking! Oh, how +could she do it? Quietly she followed Gertie to her pretty little +blue and gold boudoir, making no remonstrance. She was +to sew on a ball dress while the heiress of Whitestone Hall was +consoling her young husband in his bitter sorrow?</p> +<p>The shimmering billows of silk seemed swimming before her +eyes, and the frost-work of seed-pearls to waver through the +blinding tears that would force themselves to her eyes. Eve +was not there. How pitifully lonely poor Daisy felt! The +face, bent so patiently over the lilac silk, had a strange story +written upon it. But the two girls, discussing the events of +the day, did not glance once in her direction; their thoughts +and conversation were of the handsome young heiress and Rex.</p> +<p>“For once in your life you were wrong,” said Bess. “The +way affairs appear now does not look much like a broken-off +marriage, I can assure you.”</p> +<p>“Those who have seen her say she is peculiarly beautiful +and fascinating, though cold, reserved, and as haughty as a +queen,” said Gertie.</p> +<p>“Cold and reserved,” sneered Bess. “I guess you would +not have thought so if you had been at the drawing-room window +to-day and seen her bending over Rex so lovingly. I declare +I expected every moment to see her kiss him.”</p> +<p>The box which held the seed-pearls dropped to the floor with +a crash, and the white, glistening beads were scattered about +in all directions.</p> +<p>“Why, what a careless creature you are, Daisy Brooks!” +cried Gertie, in dismay. “Just see what you have done! Half +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +of them will be lost, and what is not lost will be smashed, and +I had just enough to finish that lily on the front breadth and +twine among the blossoms for my hair. What do you suppose +I’m going to do now, you provoking girl? It is actually enough +to make one cry.”</p> +<p>“I am so sorry,” sighed Daisy, piteously.</p> +<p>“Sorry! Will that bring back my seed-pearls? I have half +a mind to make mamma deduct the amount from your salary.”</p> +<p>“You may have it all if it will only replace them,” said +Daisy, earnestly. “I think, though, I have gathered them +all up.”</p> +<p>A great, round tear rolled off from her long, silky eyelashes +and into the very heart of the frosted lily over which she bent, +but the lily’s petals seemed to close about it, leaving no trace +of its presence.</p> +<p>Bessie and Gertie openly discussed their chagrin and keen +disappointment, yet admitting what a handsome couple Rex +and Pluma made––he so courteous and noble, she so royal and +queenly.</p> +<p>“Of course we must call upon her if she is to be Rex’s +wife,” said Gertie, spitefully. “I foresee she will be exceedingly +popular.”</p> +<p>“We must also invite her to Glengrove,” said Bess, thoughtfully. +“It is the least we can do, and it is expected of us. I +quite forgot to mention one of their servants was telling Jim +both Rex and little Birdie intend to accompany Miss Hurlhurst +back to Whitestone Hall as soon after the funeral as matters +can be arranged.”</p> +<p>“Why, that is startling news indeed! Why, then, they will +probably leave some time this week!” cried Gertie.</p> +<p>“Most probably,” said Bess. “You ought certainly to send +over your note this evening––it is very early yet.”</p> +<p>“There is no one to send,” said Gertie. “Jim has driven +over to Natchez, and there is no one else to go.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps Daisy will go for you,” suggested Bess.</p> +<p>There was no need of being jealous <i>now</i> of Daisy’s beauty +in that direction. Gertie gladly availed herself of the suggestion.</p> +<p>“Daisy,” she said, turning abruptly to the quivering little +figure, whose face drooped over the lilac silk, “never mind +finishing that dress to-night. I wish you to take a note over +to the large gray stone house yonder, and be sure to deliver it +to Mr. Rex Lyon himself.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXV' id='CHAPTER_XXV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> +</div> +<p>Gertie Glenn never forgot the despairing cry that broke +from Daisy’s white lips as she repeated her command:</p> +<p>“I wish you to deliver this note to Mr. Rex Lyon himself.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Miss Gertie,” she cried, clasping her hands together +in an agony of entreaty, “I can not––oh, indeed I can not! +Ask anything of me but that and I will gladly do it!”</p> +<p>Both girls looked at her in sheer astonishment.</p> +<p>“What is the reason you can not?” cried Gertie, in utter +amazement. “I do not comprehend you.”</p> +<p>“I––I can not take the note,” she said, in a frightened +whisper. “I do not––I––”</p> +<p>She stopped short in utter confusion.</p> +<p>“I choose you shall do just as I bid you,” replied Gertie, in +her imperious, scornful anger. “It really seems to me you +forget your position here, Miss Brooks. How dare you refuse +me?”</p> +<p>Opposition always strengthened Gertie’s decision, and she +determined Daisy should take her note to Rex Lyon at all +hazards.</p> +<p>The eloquent, mute appeal in the blue eyes raised to her own +was utterly lost on her.</p> +<p>“The pride of these dependent companions is something +ridiculous,” she went on, angrily. “You consider yourself +too fine, I suppose, to be made a messenger of.” Gertie +laughed aloud, a scornful, mocking laugh. “Pride and poverty +do not work very well together. You may go to your +room now and get your hat and shawl. I shall have the letter +written in a very few minutes. There will be no use appealing +to mamma. You ought to know by this time we overrule her +objections always.”</p> +<p>It was too true, Mrs. Glenn never had much voice in a matter +where Bess or Gertie had decided the case.</p> +<p>Like one in a dream Daisy turned from them. She never +remembered how she gained her own room. With cold, tremulous +fingers she fastened her hat, tucking the bright golden +hair carefully beneath her veil, and threw her shawl over her +shoulders, just as Gertie approached, letter in hand.</p> +<p>“You need not go around by the main road,” she said, +“there is a much nearer path leading down to the stone wall. +You need not wait for an answer: there will be none. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +servants over there are awkward, blundering creatures––do +not trust it to them––you must deliver it to Rex himself.”</p> +<p>“I make one last appeal to you, Miss Gertie. Indeed, it is +not pride that prompts me. I could not bear it. Have pity +on me. You are gentle and kind to others; please, oh, please +be merciful to me!”</p> +<p>“I have nothing more to say upon the subject––I have said +you were to go. You act as if I were sending you to some +place where you might catch the scarlet fever or the mumps. +You amuse me; upon my word you do. Rex is not dangerous, +neither is he a Bluebeard; his only fault is being alarmingly +handsome. The best advice I can give you is, don’t +admire him too much. He should be labeled, ‘Out of the +market.’”</p> +<p>Gertie tripped gayly from the room, her crimson satin ribbons +fluttering after her, leaving a perceptible odor of violets +in the room, while Daisy clutched the note in her cold, nervous +grasp, walking like one in a terrible dream through the bright +patches of glittering moonlight, through the sweet-scented, +rose-bordered path, on through the dark shadows of the trees +toward the home of Rex––her husband.</p> +<p>A soft, brooding silence lay over the sleeping earth as Daisy, +with a sinking heart, drew near the house. Her soft footfalls +on the green mossy earth made no sound.</p> +<p>Silently as a shadow she crept up to the blossom-covered +porch; some one was standing there, leaning against the very +pillar around which she had twined her arms as she watched +Rex’s shadow on the roses.</p> +<p>The shifting moonbeams pierced the white, fleecy clouds +that enveloped them, and as he turned his face toward her she +saw it was Rex. She could almost have reached out her hand +and touched him from where she stood. She was sorely afraid +her face or her voice might startle him if she spoke to him +suddenly.</p> +<p>“I do not need to speak,” she thought. “I will go up to +him and lay the letter in his hand.”</p> +<p>Then a great intense longing came over her to hear his +voice and know that he was speaking to her. She had quite +decided to pursue this course, when the rustle of a silken garment +fell upon her ear. She knew the light tread of the slippered +feet but too well––it was Pluma. She went up to him +in her usual caressing fashion, laying her white hand on his +arm.</p> +<p>“Do you know you have been standing here quite two hours, +Rex, watching the shadows of the vine-leaves? I have longed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +to come up and ask you what interest those dancing shadows +had for you, but I could not make up my mind to disturb you. +I often fancy you do not know how much time you spend in +thought.”</p> +<p>Pluma was wondering if he was thinking of that foolish, +romantic fancy that had come so near separating them––his +boyish fancy for Daisy Brooks, their overseer’s niece. No, +surely not. He must have forgotten her long ago.</p> +<p>“These reveries seem to have grown into a habit with me,” +he said, dreamily; “almost a second nature, of late. If you +were to come and talk to me at such times, you would break +me of it.”</p> +<p>The idea pleased her. A bright flush rose to her face, and +she made him some laughing reply, and he looked down upon +her with a kindly smile.</p> +<p>Oh! the torture of it to the poor young wife standing watching +them, with heart on fire in the deep shadow of the crimson-hearted +passion-flowers that quivered on the intervening +vines. The letter she held in her hand slipped from her fingers +into the bushes all unheeded. She had but one thought––she +must get away. The very air seemed to stifle her; her heart +seemed numb––an icy band seemed pressing round it, and her +poor forehead was burning hot. It did not matter much +where she went, nobody loved her, nobody cared for her. As +softly as she came, she glided down the path that led to the +entrance-gate beyond. She passed through the moonlighted +grounds, where the music and fragrance of the summer night +was at its height. The night wind stirred the pink clover and +the blue-bells beneath her feet. Her eyes were hot and dry; +tears would have been a world of relief to her, but none came +to her parched eyelids.</p> +<p>She paid little heed to the direction she took. One idea +alone took possession of her––she must get away.</p> +<p>“If I could only go back to dear old Uncle John,” she +sighed. “His love has never failed me.”</p> +<p>It seemed long years back since she had romped with him, a +happy, merry child, over the cotton fields, and he had called +her his sunbeam during all those years when no one lived at +Whitestone Hall and the wild ivy climbed riotously over the +windows and doors. Even Septima’s voice would have sounded +so sweet to her. She would have lived over again those +happy, childish days, if she only could. She remembered how +Septima would send her to the brook for water, and how she +sprinkled every flower in the path-way that bore her name; +and how Septima would scold her when she returned with her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +bucket scarce half full; and how she had loved to dream away +those sunny summer days, lying under the cool, shady trees, +listening to the songs the robins sang as they glanced down at +her with their little sparkling eyes.</p> +<p>How she had dreamed of the gallant young hero who was to +come to her some day. She had wondered how she would know +him, and what were the words he first would say! If he would +come riding by, as the judge did when “Maud Muller stood in +the hay-fields;” and she remembered, too, the story of “Rebecca +at the Well.” A weary smile flitted over her face as she +remembered when she went to the brook she had always put +on her prettiest blue ribbons, in case she might meet her hero.</p> +<p>Oh, those sweet, bright, rosy dreams of girlhood! What a +pity it is they do not last forever! Those girlish dreams, where +glowing fancy reigns supreme, and the prosaic future is all +unknown. She remembered her meeting with Rex, how every +nerve in her whole being thrilled, and how she had felt her +cheeks grow flaming hot, just as she had read they would do +when she met the right one. That was how she had known +Rex was the right one when she had shyly glanced up, from +under her long eyelashes, into the gay, brown hazel eyes, fixed +upon her so quizzically, as he took the heavy basket from her +slender arms, that never-to-be-forgotten June day, beneath the +blossoming magnolia-tree.</p> +<p>Poor child! her life had been a sad romance since then. +How strange it was she was fleeing from the young husband +whom she had married and was so quickly parted from!</p> +<p>All this trouble had come about because she had so courageously +rescued her letter from Mme. Whitney.</p> +<p>“If he had not bound me to secrecy, I could have have cried +out before the whole world I was his wife,” she thought.</p> +<p>A burning flush rose to her face as she thought how cruelly +he had suspected her, this poor little child-bride who had never +known one wrong or sinful thought in her pure, innocent +young life.</p> +<p>If he had only given her the chance of explaining how she +had happened to be there with Stanwick; if they had taken her +back she must have confessed about the letter and who Rex +was and what he was to her.</p> +<p>Even Stanwick’s persecution found an excuse in her innocent, +unsuspecting little heart.</p> +<p>“He sought to save me from being taken back when he +called me his wife,” she thought. “He believed I was free to +woo and win, because I dared not tell him I was Rex’s wife.” +Yet the thought of Stanwick always brought a shudder to her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +pure young mind. She could not understand why he would +have resorted to such desperate means to gain an unwilling +bride.</p> +<p>“Not yet seventeen. Ah, what a sad love-story hers had +been. How cruelly love’s young dream had been blighted,” +she told herself; and yet she would not have exchanged that +one thrilling, ecstatic moment of rapture when Rex had clasped +her in his arms and whispered: “My darling wife,” for a +whole lifetime of calm happiness with any one else.</p> +<p>On and on she walked through the violet-studded grass, +thinking––thinking. Strange fancies came thronging to her +overwrought brain. She pushed her veil back from her face +and leaned against the trunk of a tree; her brain was dizzy +and her thoughts were confused; the very stars seemed dancing +riotously in the blue sky above her, and the branches of +the trees were whispering strange fancies. Suddenly a horseman, +riding a coal-black charger, came cantering swiftly up +the long avenue of trees. He saw the quiet figure standing +leaning against the drooping branches.</p> +<p>“I will inquire the way,” he said to himself, drawing rein +beside her. “Can you tell me, madame, if this is the most +direct road leading to Glengrove and that vicinity? I am looking +for a hostelry near it. I seem to have lost my way. Will +you kindly direct me?” he asked, “or to the home of Mr. +Rex Lyon?”</p> +<p>The voice sounded strangely familiar to Daisy. She was +dimly conscious some one was speaking to her. She raised her +face up and gazed at the speaker. The cold, pale moonlight +fell full upon it, clearly revealing its strange, unearthly whiteness, +and the bright flashing eyes, gazing dreamily past the +terror-stricken man looking down on her, with white, livid lips +and blanched, horror-stricken face. His eyes almost leaped +from their sockets in abject terror, as Lester Stanwick gazed +on the upturned face by the roadside.</p> +<p>“My God, do I dream?” he cried, clutching at the pommel +of his saddle. “Is this the face of Daisy Brooks, or is it +a specter, unable to sleep in the depths of her tomb, come +back to haunt me for driving her to her doom?”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVI' id='CHAPTER_XXVI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> +</div> +<p>Rex and Pluma talked for some time out in the moonlight, +then Rex excused himself, and on the plea of having important +business letters to write retired to the library.</p> +<p>For some minutes Pluma leaned thoughtfully against the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +railing. The night was still and clear; the moon hung over +the dark trees; floods of silvery light bathed the waters of the +glittering sea, the sleeping flowers and the grass, and on the +snowy orange-blossoms and golden fruit amid the green foliage.</p> +<p>“I shall always love this fair southern home,” she thought, +a bright light creeping into her dark, dazzling eyes. “I am +Fortune’s favorite,” she said, slowly. “I shall have the one +great prize I covet most on earth. I shall win Rex at last. I +wonder at the change in him. There was a time when I believed +he loved me. Could it be handsome, refined, courteous +Rex had more than a passing fancy for Daisy Brooks––simple, +unpretentious Daisy Brooks? Thank God she is dead!” she +cried, vehemently. “I would have periled my very soul to have +won him.”</p> +<p>Even as the thought shaped itself in her mind, a dark form +stepped cautiously forward.</p> +<p>She was not startled; a passing wonder as to who it might +be struck her. She did not think much about it; a shadow in +the moonlight did not frighten her.</p> +<p>“Pluma!” called a low, cautious voice, “come down into +the garden; I must speak with you. It is I, Lester Stanwick.”</p> +<p>In a single instant the soft love-light had faded from her +face, leaving it cold, proud, and pitiless. A vague, nameless +dread seized her. She was a courageous girl; she would not +let him know it.</p> +<p>“The mad fool!” she cried, clinching her white jeweled +hands together. “Why does he follow me here? What shall +I do? I must buy him off at any cost. I dare not defy him. +Better temporize with him.” She muttered the words aloud, +and she was shocked to see how changed and hoarse her own +voice sounded. “Women have faced more deadly peril than +this,” she muttered, “and cleverly outwitted ingenious foes. +I <i>must</i> win by stratagem.”</p> +<p>She quickly followed the tall figure down the path that +divided the little garden from the shrubbery.</p> +<p>“I knew you would not refuse me, Pluma,” he said, clasping +her hands and kissing her cold lips. He noticed the glance +she gave him had nothing in it but coldness and annoyance. +“You do not tell me you are pleased to see me, Pluma, and +yet you have promised to be my wife.” She stood perfectly +still leaning against an oleander-tree. “Why don’t you speak +to me, Pluma?” he cried. “By Heaven! I am almost beginning +to mistrust you. You remember your promise,” he said, +hurriedly––“if I removed the overseer’s niece from your path +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +you were to reward me with your heart and hand.” She +would have interrupted him, but he silenced her with a gesture. +“You said your love for Rex had turned to bitter hatred. +You found he loved the girl, and that would be a glorious revenge. +I did not have to resort to abducting her from the +seminary as we had planned. The bird flew into my grasp. +I would have placed her in the asylum you selected, but she +eluded me by leaping into the pit. I have been haunted by +her face night and day ever since. I see her face in crowds, in +the depths of the silent forest, her specter appears before me +until I fly from it like one accursed.”</p> +<p>She could not stay the passionate torrent of his words.</p> +<p>“Lester, this is all a mistake,” she said; “you have not +given me a chance to speak.” Her hands dropped nervously +by her side. There were fierce, rebellious thoughts in her heart, +but she dare not give them utterance. “What have I done to +deserve all this?” she asked, trying to assume a tender tone +she was far from feeling.</p> +<p>“What have you done?” he cried, hoarsely. “Why, I left +you at Whitestone Hall, feeling secure in the belief that I had +won you. Returning suddenly and unexpectedly, I found you +had gone to Florida, to the home of Rex Lyon. Do you know +what I would have done, Pluma, if I had found you his wife +and false to your trust?”</p> +<p>“You forget yourself, Lester,” she said; “gentlemen never +threaten women.”</p> +<p>He bit his lip angrily.</p> +<p>“There are extreme cases of desperation,” he made reply. +“You must keep your promise,” he said, determinedly. “No +other man must dare speak to you of love.”</p> +<p>She saw the angry light flame into his eyes, and trembled +under her studied composure; yet not the quiver of an eyelid +betrayed her emotion. She had not meant to quarrel with +him; for once in her life she forgot her prudence.</p> +<p>“Suppose that, by exercise of any power you think you possess, +you could really compel me to be your wife, do you think +it would benefit you? I would learn to despise you. What +would you gain by it?”</p> +<p>The answer sprung quickly to his lips: “The one great +point for which I am striving––possession of Whitestone Hall;” +but he was too diplomatic to utter the words. She saw a lurid +light in his eyes.</p> +<p>“You shall be my wife,” he said, gloomily. “If you have +been cherishing any hope of winning Rex Lyon, abandon it at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +once. As a last resort, I would explain to him how cleverly +you removed the pretty little girl he loved from his path.”</p> +<p>“You dare not!” she cried, white to the very lips. “You +have forgotten your own share in that little affair. Who would +believe you acted upon a woman’s bidding? You would soon +be called to account for it. You forget that little circumstance, +Lester; you dare not go to Rex!” He knew what she +said was perfectly true. He had not intended going to Rex; +he knew it would be as much as his life was worth to encounter +him. He was aware his name had been coupled with Daisy’s +in the journals which had described her tragic death. He +knew Rex had fallen madly, desperately in love with little +Daisy Brooks, but he did not dream he had made her his wife. +“You have not given me time to explain why I am here.”</p> +<p>“I have heard all about it,” he answered, impatiently; +“but I do not understand why they sent for you.”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Lyon requested it,” she replied, quietly. “Rex +simply obeyed her wishes.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps she looked upon you as her future daughter-in-law,” +sneered Lester, covertly. “I have followed you to +Florida to prevent it; I would follow you to the ends of the +earth to prevent it! A promise to me can not be lightly +broken.”</p> +<p>Not a feature of that proud face quivered to betray the sharp +spasm of fear that darted through her heart.</p> +<p>“You should have waited until you had cause to reproach +me, Lester,” she said, drawing her wrap closer about her and +shivering as if with cold. “I must go back to the house now; +some one might miss me.”</p> +<p>He made no reply. The wind bent the reeds, and the waves +of the sea dashed up on the distant beach with a long, low +wash. He was wondering how far she was to be trusted.</p> +<p>“You may have perfect confidence in me, Lester,” she said; +“my word ought to be sufficient,” as if quite divining his +thoughts. “You need have no fear; I will be true to you.”</p> +<p>“I shall remain away until this affair has blown over,” he +replied. “I can live as well in one part of the country as another, +thanks to the income my father left me.” He laid +great stress on the last sentence; he wanted to impress her with +the fact that he had plenty of money. “She must never +know,” he told himself, “that he had so riotously squandered +the vast inheritance that had been left him, and he was standing +on the verge of ruin.” A marriage with the wealthy heiress +would save him at the eleventh hour. “I will trust you, +Pluma,” he continued. “I know, you will keep your vow.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></div> +<p>The false ring of apparent candor did not deceive her; she +knew it would be a case of diamond cut diamond.</p> +<p>“That is spoken like your own generous self, Lester,” she +said, softly, clasping his hands in her own white, jeweled ones. +“You pained me by your distrust.”</p> +<p>He saw she was anxious to get away from him, and he bit +his lip with vexation; her pretty, coaxing manner did not deceive +him one whit, yet he clasped his arms in a very lover-like +fashion around her as he replied:</p> +<p>“Forget that it ever existed, my darling. Where there is +such ardent, passionate love, there is always more or less jealousy +and fear. Do you realize I am making an alien of myself +for your sweet sake? I could never refuse you a request. +Your slightest will has been my law. Be kind to me, Pluma.”</p> +<p>She did try to be more than agreeable and fascinating.</p> +<p>“I must remove all doubts from his mind,” she thought. +“I shall probably be Rex’s wife when we meet again. Then +his threats will be useless; I will scornfully deny it. He has +no proofs.”</p> +<p>She talked to him so gracefully, so tenderly, at times, he was +almost tempted to believe she actually cared for him more than +she would admit. Still he allowed it would do no harm to +keep a strict watch of her movements.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, Pluma, dearest,” he said, “I shall keep you +constantly advised of my whereabouts. As soon as matters can +be arranged satisfactorily, I am coming back to claim you.”</p> +<p>Another moment and she was alone, walking slowly back to +the house, a very torrent of anger in her proud, defiant heart.</p> +<p>“I must hurry matters up, delays are dangerous,” she +thought, walking slowly up the broad path toward the house.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Slowly the long hours of the night dragged themselves by, +yet Daisy did not return to Glengrove. The hours lengthened +into days, and days into weeks, still there was no trace of her +to be found. Gertie’s explanation readily accounted for her +absence.</p> +<p>“She preferred to leave us rather than deliver my note,” +she said, angrily; “and I for one am not sorry she has gone.”</p> +<p>“Rex did not mention having received it,” said Bess, +“when he came with Birdie to bid us good-bye.”</p> +<p>“She probably read it and destroyed it,” said Gertie, +“Well, there was nothing in it very particular. Toward the last +of it I mentioned I would send the note over by Daisy Brooks, +my mother’s companion. More than likely she took umbrage +at that.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></div> +<p>“That was a very unkind remark,” asserted Eve. “You +had no business to mention it at all; it was uncalled for.”</p> +<p>“Well, she would not have known it if she had not read +it,” replied Gertie. “You must admit that.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Glenn felt sorely troubled. In the short time Daisy +had been with her she had put unlimited confidence in her.</p> +<p>No one thought of searching for her; they all accepted the +facts as the case presented itself to them. Daisy had certainly +left them of her own free will.</p> +<p>Eve alone felt distressed.</p> +<p>“I know everything looks that way, but I shall never believe +it,” she cried.</p> +<p>She remembered the conversation she had so lately had with +Daisy. How she had clasped her loving little arms about her +neck, crying out:</p> +<p>“Pray for me, Eve. I am sorely tried. My feet are on +the edge of a precipice. No matter what I may be tempted to +do, do not lose faith in me, Eve; always believe in me.”</p> +<p>Poor little Daisy! what was the secret sorrow that was goading +her on to madness? Would she ever know?</p> +<p>Where was she now? Ah, who could tell?</p> +<p>A curious change seemed to come over romping, mischievous, +merry Eve; she had grown silent and thoughtful.</p> +<p>“I could never believe any one in this world was true or +pure again if I thought for one moment deceit lay brooding in +a face so fair as little Daisy Brooks’s.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVII' id='CHAPTER_XXVII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> +</div> +<p>The months flew quickly by; the cold winter had slipped +away, and the bright green grass and early violets were +sprinkling the distant hill-slopes. The crimson-breasted +robins were singing in the budding branches of the trees, and +all Nature reminded one the glorious spring had come.</p> +<p>Rex Lyon stood upon the porch of Whitestone Hall gazing +up at the white, fleecy clouds that scudded over the blue sky, +lost in deep thought.</p> +<p>He was the same handsome, debonair Rex, but ah, how +changed! The merry, laughing brown eyes looked silent and +grave enough now, and the lips the drooping brown mustache +covered rarely smiled. Even his voice seemed to have a deeper +tone.</p> +<p>He had done the one thing that morning which his mother +had asked him to do with her dying breath––he had asked +Pluma Hurlhurst to be his wife.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span></div> +<p>The torture of the task seemed to grow upon him as the +weeks rolled by, and in desperation he told himself he must +settle the matter at once, or he would not have the strength to +do it.</p> +<p>He never once thought what he should do with his life after +he married her. He tried to summon up courage to tell her the +story of his marriage, that his hopes, his heart, and his love all +lay in the grave of his young wife. Poor Rex, he could not lay +bare that sweet, sad secret; he could not have borne her questions, +her wonder, her remarks, and have lived; his dead love +was far too sacred for that; he could not take the treasured +love-story from his heart and hold it up to public gaze. It +would have been easier for him to tear the living, beating heart +from his breast than to do this.</p> +<p>He had walked into the parlor that morning, where he knew +he should find Pluma. She was standing before the fire. Although +it was early spring the mornings were chilly, and a +cheerful fire burned in the grate, throwing a bright, glowing +radiance over the room and over the exquisite morning toilet +of white cashmere, with its white lace frills, relieved here and +there with coquettish dashes of scarlet blossoms, which Pluma +wore, setting off her graceful figure to such queenly advantage.</p> +<p>Rex looked at her, at the imperious beauty any man might +have been proud to win, secretly hoping she would refuse him.</p> +<p>“Good-morning, Rex,” she said, holding out her white +hands to him. “I am glad you have come to talk to me. I +was watching you walking up and down under the trees, and +you looked so lonely I half made up my mind to join you.”</p> +<p>A lovely color was deepening in her cheeks, and her eyes +drooped shyly. He broke right into the subject at once while +he had the courage to do it.</p> +<p>“I have something to say to you, Pluma,” he began, leading +her to an adjacent sofa and seating himself beside her. “I +want to ask you if you will be my wife.” He looked perhaps +the more confused of the two. “I will do my best to make +you happy,” he continued. “I can not say that I will make +a model husband, but I will say I will do my best.”</p> +<p>There was a minute’s silence, awkward enough for both.</p> +<p>“You have asked me to be your wife, Rex, but you have +not said one word of loving me.”</p> +<p>The remark was so unexpected Rex seemed for a few moments +to be unable to reply to it. Looking at the eager, expectant +face turned toward him, it appeared ungenerous and +unkind not to give her one affectionate word. Yet he did not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +know how to say it; he had never spoken a loving word to any +one except Daisy, his fair little child-bride.</p> +<p>He tried hard to put the memory of Daisy away from him +as he answered:</p> +<p>“The question is so important that most probably I have +thought more of it than of any words which should go with it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that is it,” returned Pluma, with a wistful little +laugh. “Most men, when they ask women to marry them, +say something of love, do they not?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he replied, absently.</p> +<p>“You have had no experience,” laughed Pluma, archly.</p> +<p>She was sorely disappointed. She had gone over in her own +imagination this very scene a thousand times, of the supreme +moment he would clasp his arms around her, telling her in +glowing, passionate words how dearly he loved her and how +wretched his life would be without her. He did nothing of +the kind.</p> +<p>Rex was thinking he would have given anything to have +been able to make love to her––anything for the power of saying +tender words––she looked so loving.</p> +<p>Her dark, beautiful face was so near him, and her graceful +figure so close, that he could have wound his arm around her, +but he did not. In spite of every resolve, he thought of Daisy +the whole time. How different that other love-making had +been! How his heart throbbed, and every endearing name he +could think of trembled on his lips, as he strained Daisy to his +heart when she had bashfully consented to be his wife!</p> +<p>That love-making was real substance; this one only the +shadow of love.</p> +<p>“You have not answered my question, Pluma. Will you +be my wife?”</p> +<p>Pluma raised her dark, beautiful face, radiant with the +light of love, to his.</p> +<p>“If I consent will you promise to love me better than anything +else or any one in the wide world?”</p> +<p>“I will devote my whole life to you, study your every wish,” +he answered, evasively.</p> +<p>How was she to know he had given all his heart to Daisy?</p> +<p>She held out her hands to him with a charming gesture of +affection. He took them and kissed them; he could do neither +more nor less.</p> +<p>“I will be your wife, Rex,” she said, with a tremulous, +wistful sigh.</p> +<p>“Thank you, Pluma,” he returned, gently, bending down +and kissing the beautiful crimson lips; “you shall never regret +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +it. You are so kind, I am going to impose on your good +nature. You have promised me you will be my wife––when +may I claim you, Pluma?”</p> +<p>“Do you wish it to be soon?” she asked, hesitatingly, wondering +how he would answer her.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, absently; “the sooner it is over the better +I shall be pleased.”</p> +<p>She looked up into his face, at a loss how to interpret the +words.</p> +<p>“You shall set the day, Rex,” she replied.</p> +<p>“I have your father’s consent that it may take place just as +soon as possible, in case you promised to marry me,” he said. +“Suppose it takes place in a fortnight, say––will that be too +soon for you?”</p> +<p>She gave a little scream of surprise. “As soon as that?” +she murmured; but ended by readily consenting.</p> +<p>He thanked her and kissed her once more. After a few +quiet words they parted––she, happy in the glamour of her +love-dream; he, praying to Heaven from the depths of his +miserable heart, to give him strength to carry out the rash +vow which had been wrung from his unwilling lips.</p> +<p>In his heart Rex knew no one but Daisy could ever reign. +Dead, he was devoted to her memory.</p> +<p>His life was narrowing down. He was all kindness, consideration +and devotion; but the one supreme magnet of all––love––was +wanting.</p> +<p>In vain Pluma exerted all her wondrous powers of fascination +to win him more completely. How little he dreamed +of the depths of love which controlled that passionate heart, +every throb of which was for him––that to have won from him +one token of warm affection she would have given all she held +dear in this world.</p> +<p>“How does it happen, Rex,” she asked, one evening, “you +have not asked me to sing to you since you have asked me to +be your wife? Music used to be such a bond of sympathy +between us.”</p> +<p>There was both love and reproach in her voice. He heard +neither. He had simply forgotten it.</p> +<p>“I have been thinking of other things, I presume. Allow +me to make up for it at once, however, by asking you if you +will sing for me now.”</p> +<p>The tears came to her dark, flashing eyes, but she forced +them bravely back. She had hoped he would clasp her in his +arms, whispering some sweet compliment, then say to her +“Darling, won’t you sing to me now?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></div> +<p>She swept toward the piano with the air of a queen.</p> +<p>“I want you to sit where I can see you, Rex,” she demanded, +prettily; “I like to watch your face when I sing you +my favorite songs.”</p> +<p>Rex drew his chair up close to the piano, laying his head +back dreamily against the crimson cushions. He would not +be obliged to talk; for once––just once––he would let his fancies +roam where they would. He had often heard Pluma sing +before, but never in the way she sung to-night. A low, thrilling, +seductive voice full of pleading, passionate tenderness––a +voice that whispered of the sweet irresistible power of love, that +carried away the hearts of her listeners as a strong current +carries a leaflet.</p> +<p>Was it a dream, or was it the night wind breathing the +name of Daisy? The tears rose in his eyes, and he started to +his feet, pale and trembling with agitation. Suddenly the +music ceased.</p> +<p>“I did not think such a simple little melody had power to +move you,” she said.</p> +<p>“Is it a new song?” he asked. “I do not remember having +heard it before. What is the title of it?”</p> +<p>He did not notice her face had grown slightly pale under +the soft, pearly light of the gleaming lamps, as she held the +music out toward him.</p> +<p>“It is a pretty title,” she said, in her low, musical voice, +“‘Daisies Growing o’er my Darling’s Grave.’”</p> +<p>In the terrible look of agony that swept over his handsome +face, Pluma read the secret of his life; the one secret she had +dreaded stood as clearly revealed to her as though it had been +stamped in glowing letters upon his brow. She would have +stood little chance of being Rex’s wife if Daisy Brooks had +lived.</p> +<p>Who would have dreamed the beautiful, proud young heiress +could have cursed the very memory of the young girl whom +she believed to be dead––lying all uncared for in a neglected, +lonely grave?</p> +<p>Rex felt sorely disturbed. He never remembered how the +remainder of the evening passed. Ah, heavens! how his mind +wandered back to that sweet love-dream so cruelly broken. A +mist as of tears spread before his eyes, and shut the whole +world from him as he glanced out of the window and up at +the star-gemmed sky––that was his Daisy’s home.</p> +<p>“I hope my little song has not cast a gloom over you, Rex?” +she said, holding out her hands to him as she arose to bid him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +good-night––those small white hands upon one of which his +engagement-ring glowed with a thousand prismatic hues.</p> +<p>“Why should it?” he asked, attempting to laugh lightly. +“I admired it perhaps more than any other I have ever heard +you sing.”</p> +<p>Pluma well knew why.</p> +<p>“It was suggested to me by a strange occurrence. Shall I +relate it to you, Rex?”</p> +<p>He made some indistinct answer, little dreaming of how +wofully the little anecdote would affect him.</p> +<p>“I do not like to bring up old, unpleasant subjects, Rex. +But do you remember what the only quarrel we ever had was +about, or rather <i>who</i> it was about?”</p> +<p>He looked at her in surprise; he had not the least idea of +what she alluded to.</p> +<p>“Do you remember what a romantic interest you once took +in our overseer’s niece––the one who eloped with Lester Stanwick +from boarding-school––the one whose death we afterward +read of? Her name was Daisy––Daisy Brooks.”</p> +<p>If she had suddenly plunged a dagger into his heart with +her white jeweled hands he could not have been more cruelly +startled. He could have cried aloud with the sharp pain of +unutterable anguish that memory brought him. His answer +was a bow; he dared not look up lest the haggard pain of his +face should betray him.</p> +<p>“Her uncle (he was no relation, I believe, but she called +him that) was more fond of her than words can express. I +was driving along by an unfrequented road to-day when I +came across a strange, pathetic sight. The poor old man was +putting the last touches to a plain wooden cross he had just +erected under a magnolia-tree, which bore the simple words: +‘To the memory of Daisy Brooks, aged sixteen years.’ +Around the cross the grass was thickly sown with daisies.</p> +<p>“‘She does not rest here,’ the old man said, drawing his +rough sleeve across his tear-dimmed eyes; ‘but the poor little +girl loved this spot best of any.’”</p> +<p>Pluma wondered why Rex took her just then in his arms for +the first time and kissed her. He was thanking her in his +heart; he could have knelt to her for the kind way she had +spoken of Daisy.</p> +<p>A little later he was standing by the open window of his own +room in the moonlight.</p> +<p>“My God!” he cried, burying his face in his hands, “this +poor John Brooks did what I, her husband, should have done; +but it is not too late now. I shall honor your memory, my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +darling; I shall have a costly marble monument erected to +your memory, bearing the inscription: ‘Sacred to the memory +of Daisy, beloved wife of Rex Lyon, aged sixteen years.’ Not +Daisy Brooks, but Daisy Lyon. Mother is dead, what can +secrecy avail now?”</p> +<p>He would not tell Pluma until the last moment. Straightway +he ordered a magnificent monument from Baltimore––one +of pure unblemished white, with an angel with drooping wings +overlooking the tall white pillar.</p> +<p>When it arrived he meant to take Pluma there, and, reverently +kneeling down before her, tell her all the story of his +sweet, sad love-dream with his face pressed close against the +cold, pulseless marble––tell her of the love-dream which had +left him but the ashes of dead hope. He sealed the letter and +placed it with the out-going morning mail.</p> +<p>“Darling, how I wish I had not parted from you that +night!” he sighed.</p> +<p>How bitterly he regretted he could not live that one brief +hour of his past life over again––how differently he would act!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVIII' id='CHAPTER_XXVIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>While Rex was penning his all-important letter in his +room, Pluma was walking restlessly to and fro in her boudoir, +conning over in her mind the events of the evening.</p> +<p>Rex had asked her to be his wife, but she stood face to face +with the truth at last––he did not love her. It was not only +a blow of the keenest and cruelest kind to her affection, but it +was the cruelest blow her vanity could possibly have received.</p> +<p>To think that she, the wealthy, petted heiress, who counted +her admirers by the score, should have tried so hard to win the +love of this one man and have failed; that her beauty, her grace, +her wit, and her talent had been lavished upon him, and +lavished in vain. “Was that simple girl, with her shy, timid, +shrinking manner, more lovable than I?” she asked herself, +incredulously.</p> +<p>She could not realize it––she, whose name was on the lips of +men, who praised her as the queen of beauty, and whom fair +women envied as one who had but to will to win.</p> +<p>It seemed to her a cruel mockery of fate that she, who had +everything the world could give––beauty and fortune––should +ask but this one gift, and that it should be refused her––the +love of the man who had asked her to be his wife.</p> +<p>Was it impossible that he should learn to love her?</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></div> +<p>She told herself that she should take courage, that she would +persevere, that her great love must in time prevail.</p> +<p>“I must never let him find me dull or unhappy,” she +thought. “I must carefully hide all traces of pique or annoyance.”</p> +<p>She would do her best to entertain him, and make it the +study of her life to win his love.</p> +<p>She watched the stars until they faded from the skies, then +buried her face in her pillow, falling into an uneasy slumber, +through which a beautiful, flower-like, girlish face floated, and +a slight, delicate form knelt at her feet holding her arms out +imploringly, sobbing out:</p> +<p>“Do not take him from me––he is my world––I love him!”</p> +<p>And with a heart racked by terrible jealousy, Pluma turned +uneasily on her pillow and opened her eyes. The stars were +still glimmering in the moonlighted sky.</p> +<p>“Is the face of Daisy Brooks ever to haunt me thus?” she +cried out, impatiently. “How was I to know she was to die?” +she muttered, excitedly. “I simply meant to have Stanwick +abduct her from the seminary that Rex might believe him her +lover and turn to me for sympathy. I will not think of it,” +she cried; “I am not one to flinch from a course of action I +have marked out for myself, no matter what the consequences +may be, if I only gain Rex’s love.”</p> +<p>And Pluma, the bride soon to be, turned her flushed face +again to the wall to dream again of Daisy Brooks.</p> +<p>She little dreamed Rex, too, was watching the stars, as +wakeful as she, thinking of the past.</p> +<p>Then he prayed Heaven to help him, so that no unworthy +thought should enter his mind. After that he slept, and one +of the most painful days of his life was ended.</p> +<p>The days at Whitestone Hall flew by on rapid wings in a +round of gayety. The Hall was crowded with young folks, +who were to remain until after the marriage. Dinner parties +were followed by May-pole dances out on the green lawns, and +by charades and balls in the evening. The old Hall had never +echoed with such frolicsome mirth before. Rex plunged into +the excitement with strange zest. No one guessed that beneath +his winning, careless smile his heart was almost breaking.</p> +<p>One morning Pluma was standing alone on the vine-covered +terrace, waiting for Rex, who had gone out to try a beautiful +spirited horse that had just been added to the stables of Whitestone +Hall. She noticed he had taken the unfrequented road +the magnolia-trees shaded. That fact bore no significance, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +certainly; still there was a strong feeling of jealousy in her +heart as she remembered that little wooden cross he would be +obliged to pass. Would he stop there? She could not tell.</p> +<p>“How I love him––and how foolish I am!” she laughed, +nervously. “I have no rival, yet I am jealous of his very +thoughts, lest they dwell on any one else but myself. I do not +see how it is,” she said, thoughtfully, to herself, “why people +laugh at love, and think it weakness or a girl’s sentimental +folly. Why, it is the strongest of human passions!”</p> +<p>She heard people speak of her approaching marriage as “a +grand match”––she heard him spoken of as a wealthy Southerner, +and she laughed a proud, happy, rippling laugh. She +was marrying Rex for love; she had given him the deepest, +truest love of her heart.</p> +<p>Around a bend in the terrace she heard approaching footsteps +and the rippling of girlish laughter.</p> +<p>“I can not have five minutes to myself to think,” she said +to herself, drawing hastily back behind the thick screen of +leaves until they should pass. She did not feel in the humor +just then to listen to Miss Raynor’s chatter or pretty Grace +Alden’s gossip.</p> +<p>“Of course every one has a right to their own opinion,” +Grace was saying, with a toss of her pretty nut-brown curls, +“and I, for one, do not believe he cares for her one whit.”</p> +<p>“It is certainly very strange,” responded Miss Raynor, +thoughtfully. “Every one can see she is certainly in love +with Rex; but I am afraid it is quite a one-sided affair.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Grace, laughing shyly, “a <i>very</i> one-sided +affair. Why, have you ever noticed them together––how +Pluma watches his face and seems to live on his smiles? +And as for Rex, he always seems to be looking over her head +into the distance, as though he saw something there far more +interesting than the face of his bride-to-be. That doesn’t look +much like love or a contented lover.”</p> +<p>“If you had seen him this morning you might well say he +did not look contented,” replied Miss Raynor, mysteriously. +“I was out for a morning ramble, and, feeling a little tired, +I sat down on a moss-covered stone to rest. Hearing the approaching +clatter of a horse’s hoofs, I looked up and saw Rex +Lyon coming leisurely down the road. I could not tell you +what prompted me to do it, but I drew quietly back behind +the overhanging alder branches that skirted the brook, admiring +him all unseen.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear!” cried Grace, merrily, “this is almost too good +to keep. Who would imagine dignified Miss Raynor peeping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +admiringly at handsome Rex, screened by the shadows of the +alders!”</p> +<p>“Now don’t be ridiculous, Grace, or I shall be tempted not +to tell you the most interesting part,” returned Miss Raynor, +flushing hotly.</p> +<p>“Oh, that would be too cruel,” cried Grace, who delighted +on anything bordering on mystery. “Do tell it.”</p> +<p>“Well,” continued Miss Raynor, dropping her voice to a +lower key, “when he was quite opposite me, he suddenly +stopped short and quickly dismounted from his horse, and +picked up from the roadside a handful of wild flowers.”</p> +<p>“What in the world could he want with them?” cried +Grace, incredulously.</p> +<p>“Want with them!” echoed Miss Raynor. “Why, he +pressed them to his lips, murmuring passionate, loving words +over them. For one brief instant his face was turned toward +me, and I saw there were tears standing in his eyes, and there +was a look on his face I shall never forget to my dying day. +There was such hopeless woe upon it––indeed one might have +almost supposed, by the expression of his face, he was waiting +for his death-sentence to be pronounced instead of a marriage +ceremony, which was to give him the queenly heiress of Whitestone +Hall for a bride.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps there is some hidden romance in the life of handsome +Rex the world does not know of,” suggested Grace, +sagely.</p> +<p>“I hope not,” replied Miss Raynor. “I would hate to be +a rival of Pluma Hurlhurst’s. I have often thought, as I +watched her with Rex, it must be terrible to worship one person +so madly. I have often thought Pluma’s a perilous love.”</p> +<p>“Do not speak so,” cried Grace. “You horrify me. +Whenever I see her face I am afraid those words will be ringing +in my ears––a perilous love.”</p> +<p>Miss Raynor made some laughing rejoinder which Pluma, +white and trembling behind the ivy vines, did not catch, and +still discussing the affair, they moved on, leaving Pluma Hurlhurst +standing alone, face to face with the truth, which she +had hoped against hope was false. Rex, who was so soon to +be her husband, was certainly not her lover.</p> +<p>Her keen judgment had told her long ago all this had come +about through his mother’s influence.</p> +<p>Every word those careless lips had uttered came back to her +heart with a cruel stab.</p> +<p>“Even my guests are noticing his coldness,” she cried, with +a hysterical little sob. “They are saying to each other, ‘He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +does not love me’––I, who have counted my triumphs by the +scores. I have revealed my love in every word, tone and +glance, but I can not awaken one sentiment in his proud, cold +heart.”</p> +<p>When she remembered the words, “He pressed them to his +lips, murmuring passionate, loving words over them,” she +almost cried aloud in her fierce, angry passion. She knew, +just as well as though she had witnessed him herself, that +those wild flowers were daisies, and she knew, too, why he had +kissed them so passionately. She saw the sun shining on the +trees, the flower-beds were great squares and circles of color, +the fountains sparkled in the sunlight, and restless butterflies +flitted hither and thither.</p> +<p>For Pluma Hurlhurst, after that hour, the sunshine never +had the same light, the flowers the same color, her face the +same smile, or her heart the same joyousness.</p> +<p>Never did “good and evil” fight for a human heart as they +struggled in that hour in the heart of the beautiful, willful +heiress. All the fire, the passion, and recklessness of her +nature were aroused.</p> +<p>“I will make him love me or I will die!” she cried, +vehemently. “The love I long for shall be mine. I swear +it, cost what it may!”</p> +<p>She was almost terribly beautiful to behold, as that war of +passion raged within her.</p> +<p>She saw a cloud of dust arising in the distance. She knew +it was Rex returning, but no bright flush rose to her cheek as +she remembered what Miss Raynor had said of the wild flowers +he had so rapturously caressed––he had given a few rank wild +flowers the depths of a passionate love which he had never +shown to her, whom he had asked to be his wife.</p> +<p>She watched him as he approached nearer and nearer, so +handsome, so graceful, so winning, one of his white hands +carelessly resting on the spirited animal’s proudly arched, +glossy neck, and with the other raising his hat from his brown +curls in true courtly cavalier fashion to her, as he saw her +standing there, apparently awaiting him on the rose-covered +terrace.</p> +<p>He looked so handsome and lovable Pluma might have forgotten +her grievance had she not at that moment espied, +fastened to the lapel of his coat, a cluster of golden-hearted +daisies.</p> +<p>That sight froze the light in her dark, passionate eyes and +the welcome that trembled on her scarlet lips.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></div> +<p>He leaped lightly from the saddle, and came quickly forward +to meet her, and then drew back with a start.</p> +<p>“What is the matter, Pluma?” he asked, in wonder.</p> +<p>“Nothing,” she replied, keeping her eyes fastened as if +fascinated on the offending daisies he wore on his breast.</p> +<p>“I left you an hour ago smiling and happy. I find you +white and worn. There are strange lights in your eyes like +the slumbrous fire of a volcano; even your voice seems to have +lost its tenderness. What is it, Pluma?”</p> +<p>She raised her dark, proud face to his. There was a strange +story written on it, but he could not tell what it was.</p> +<p>“It––it is nothing. The day is warm, and I am tired, that +is all.”</p> +<p>“You are not like the same Pluma who kissed me when I +was going away,” he persisted. “Since I left this house something +has come between you and me. What is it, Pluma?”</p> +<p>She looked up to him with a proud gesture that was infinitely +charming.</p> +<p>“Is anything likely to come between us?” she asked.</p> +<p>“No; not that I know of,” he answered, growing more and +more puzzled.</p> +<p>“Then why imagine it?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Because you are so changed, Pluma,” he said. “I shall +never perhaps know the cause of your strange manner toward +me, but I shall always feel sure it is something which concerns +myself. You look at me as though you were questioning me,” +he said. “I wish you would tell me what is on your mind?”</p> +<p>“I do not suppose it could make the least difference,” she +answered, passionately. “Yes, I will tell you, what you must +have been blind not to notice long ago. Have you not noticed +how every one watches us with a peculiar smile on their lips as +we come among them; and how their voices sink to a whisper +lest we should overhear what they say? What is commented +upon by my very guests, and the people all about us? Listen, +then, it is this: Rex Lyon does not love the woman he has +asked to be his wife. The frosts of Iceland could not be +colder than his manner toward her. They say, too, that I +have given you the truest and deepest love of my heart, and +have received nothing in return. Tell me that it is all false, +my darling. You do care for me, do you not, Rex? Tell +me,” she implored.</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” cried Rex, almost speechless in consternation; +“do they dare say such things? I never thought my +conduct could give rise to one reproach, one unkind thought.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></div> +<p>“Tell me you do care for me, Rex,” she cried. “I have +been almost mad with doubt.”</p> +<p>There was something in the lovely face, in the tender, +pleading eyes, and quivering, scarlet mouth, that looked as if +it were made for kisses––that Rex would have had to have +been something more than mortal man to have resisted her +pleading with sighs and tears for his love, and refuse it, +especially as she had every reason to expect it, as he had asked +her to be his wife. There was such a look of unutterable love +on her face it fairly bewildered him. The passion in her voice +startled him. What was he to do with this impetuous girl? +Rex looked as if he felt exceedingly uncomfortable.</p> +<p>He took her in his arms and kissed her mechanically; he +knew that was what she wanted and what she expected him +to do.</p> +<p>“This must be my answer, dear,” he said, holding her in +a close embrace.</p> +<p>In that brief instant she had torn the daisies from the lapel +of his coat with her white, jeweled fingers, tossed them to the +earth, and stamped her dainty feet upon them, wishing in the +depths of her soul she could crush out all remembrance from +his heart of the young girl for whose memory this handsome +lover of hers wore these wild blossoms on his breast.</p> +<p>As Rex looked down into her face he missed them, and +quickly unclasped his arms from around her with a little cry.</p> +<p>Stooping down he instantly recovered his crushed treasures +and lifted them reverently in his hand with a sigh.</p> +<p>“I can not say that I admire your taste, Rex,” she said, +with a short, hard laugh, that somehow grated harshly on her +lover’s ears. “The conservatories are blooming with rare and +odorous flowers, yet you choose these obnoxious plants; they +are no more or less than a species of weeds. Never wear them +again, Rex––I despise them––throw them away, and I will +gather you a rare bouquet of white hyacinths and starry +jasmine and golden-rod bells.”</p> +<p>The intense quiver in her voice pained him, and he saw her +face wore the pallor of death, and her eyes were gleaming like +restless fire.</p> +<p>“I will not wear them certainly if you dislike them, Pluma,” +he said, gravely, “but I do not care to replace them by any +other; daisies are the sweetest flowers on earth for me.”</p> +<p>He did not fasten them on his coat again, but transferred +them to his breast-pocket. She bit her scarlet lips in impotent +rage.</p> +<p>In the very moment of her supreme triumph and happiness +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +he had unclasped his arms from about her to pick up the +daisies she had crushed with her tiny heel––those daisies which +reminded him of that other love that still reigned in his heart +a barrier between them.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIX' id='CHAPTER_XXIX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> +</div> +<p>“I do think it is a perfect shame those horrid Glenn girls are +to be invited up here to Rex’s wedding,” cried little Birdie +Lyon, hobbling into the room where Mrs. Corliss sat, busily +engaged in hemming some new table-linen, and throwing herself +down on a low hassock at her feet, and laying down her +crutch beside her––“it is perfectly awful.”</p> +<p>“Why,” said Mrs. Corliss, smoothing the nut-brown curls +back from the child’s flushed face, “I should think you would +be very pleased. They were your neighbors when you were +down in Florida, were they not?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied the little girl, frowning, “but I don’t like +them one bit. Bess and Gertie––that’s the two eldest ones, +make me think of those stiff pictures in the gay trailing +dresses in the magazines. Eve is nice, but she’s a Tom-boy.”</p> +<p>“A wh––at!” cried Mrs. Corliss.</p> +<p>“She’s a Tom-boy, mamma always said; she romps, and +has no manners.”</p> +<p>“They will be your neighbors when you go South again––so +I suppose your brother thought of that when he invited them.”</p> +<p>“He never dreamed of it,” cried Birdie; “it was Miss +Pluma’s doings.”</p> +<p>“Hush, child, don’t talk so loud,” entreated the old housekeeper; +“she might hear you.”</p> +<p>“I don’t care,” cried Birdie. “I don’t like her anyhow, and +she knows it. When Rex is around she is as sweet as honey +to me, and calls me ‘pretty little dear,’ but when Rex isn’t +around she scarcely notices me, and I <i>hate</i> her––yes, I do.”</p> +<p>Birdie clinched her little hands together venomously, crying +out the words in a shrill scream.</p> +<p>“Birdie,” cried Mrs. Corliss, “you <i>must not</i> say such hard, +cruel things. I have heard you say, over and over again, you +liked Mr. Hurlhurst, and you must remember Pluma is his +daughter, and she is to be your brother’s wife. You must +learn to speak and think kindly of her.”</p> +<p>“I never shall like her,” cried Birdie, defiantly, “and I +am sure Mr. Hurlhurst don’t.”</p> +<p>“Birdie!” ejaculated the good lady in a fright, dropping +her scissors and spools in consternation; “let me warn you not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +to talk so again; if Miss Pluma was to once hear you, you +would have a sorry enough time of it all your after life. What +put it into your head Mr. Hurlhurst did not like his own +daughter?”</p> +<p>“Oh, lots of things,” answered Birdie. “When I tell him +how pretty every one says she is, he groans, and says strange +things about fatal beauty, which marred all his young life, and +ever so many things I can’t understand, and his face grows so +hard and so stern I am almost afraid of him.”</p> +<p>“He is thinking of Pluma’s mother,” thought Mrs. Corliss––but +she made no answer.</p> +<p>“He likes to talk to me,” pursued the child, rolling the +empty spools to and fro with her crutch, “for he pities me because +I am lame.”</p> +<p>“Bless your dear little heart,” said Mrs. Corliss, softly +stroking the little girl’s curls; “it is seldom poor old master +takes to any one as he has to you.”</p> +<p>“Do I look anything like the little child that died?” questioned +Birdie.</p> +<p>A low, gasping cry broke from Mrs. Corliss’s lips, and her +face grew ashen white. She tried to speak, but the words died +away in her throat.</p> +<p>“He talks to me a great deal about her,” continued Birdie, +“and he weeps such bitter tears, and has such strange dreams +about her. Why, only last night he dreamed a beautiful, +golden-haired young girl came to him, holding out her arms, +and crying softly: ‘Look at me, father; I am your child. I +was never laid to rest beneath the violets, in my young mother’s +tomb. Father, I am in sore distress––come to me, father, +or I shall die!’ Of course it was only a dream, but it makes +poor Mr. Hurlhurst cry so; and what do you think he said?”</p> +<p>The child did not notice the terrible agony on the old housekeeper’s +face, or that no answer was vouchsafed her.</p> +<p>“‘My dreams haunt me night and day,’ he cried. ‘To still +this wild, fierce throbbing of my heart I must have that grave +opened, and gaze once more upon all that remains of my loved +and long-lost bride, sweet Evalia and her little child.’ He +was––”</p> +<p>Birdie never finished her sentence.</p> +<p>A terrible cry broke from the housekeeper’s livid lips.</p> +<p>“My God!” she cried, hoarsely, “after nearly seventeen +years the sin of my silence is about to find me out at last.”</p> +<p>“What is the matter, Mrs. Corliss? Are you ill?” cried +the startled child.</p> +<p>A low, despairing sob answered her, as Mrs. Corliss arose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +from her seat, took a step or two forward, then fell headlong +to the floor in a deep and death-like swoon.</p> +<p>Almost any other child would have been terrified, and +alarmed the household.</p> +<p>Birdie was not like other children. She saw a pitcher of ice-water +on an adjacent table, which she immediately proceeded +to sprinkle on the still, white, wrinkled face; but all her efforts +failed to bring the fleeting breath back to the cold, pallid lips.</p> +<p>At last the child became fairly frightened.</p> +<p>“I must go and find Rex or Mr. Hurlhurst,” she cried, +grasping her crutch, and limping hurriedly out of the room.</p> +<p>The door leading to Basil Hurlhurst’s apartments stood +open––the master of Whitestone Hall sat in his easy-chair, in +morning-gown and slippers, deeply immersed in the columns +of his account-books.</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr. Hurlhurst,” cried Birdie, her little, white, +scared face peering in at the door, “won’t you please come +quick? Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, has fainted ever so long +ago, and I can’t bring her to!”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst hurriedly arose and followed the now thoroughly +frightened child quickly to the room where the old +housekeeper lay, her hands pressed close to her heart, the look +of frozen horror deepening on her face.</p> +<p>Quickly summoning the servants, they raised her from the +floor. It was something more than a mere fainting fit. The +poor old lady had fallen face downward on the floor, and upon +the sharp point of the scissors she had been using, which had +entered her body in close proximity to her heart. The wound +was certainly a dangerous one. The surgeon, who was quickly +summoned, shook his head dubiously.</p> +<p>“The wound is of the most serious nature,” he said. “She +can not possibly recover.”</p> +<p>“I regret this sad affair more than I can find words to express,” +said Basil Hurlhurst, gravely. “Mrs. Corliss’s whole +life almost has been spent at Whitestone Hall. You tell me, +doctor, there is no hope. I can scarcely realize it.”</p> +<p>Every care and attention was shown her; but it was long +hours before Mrs. Corliss showed signs of returning consciousness, +and with her first breath she begged that Basil Hurlhurst +might be sent for at once.</p> +<p>He could not understand why she shrunk from him, refusing +his proffered hand.</p> +<p>“Tell them all to leave the room,” she whispered. “No +one must know what I have to say to you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></div> +<p>Wondering a little what she had to say to him, he humored +her wishes, sending them all from the room.</p> +<p>“Now, Mrs. Corliss,” he said, kindly drawing his chair up +close by the bedside, “what is it? You can speak out without +reserve; we are all alone.”</p> +<p>“Is it true that I can not live?” she asked, eagerly scanning +his face. “Tell me truthfully, master, is the wound a +fatal one?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, sympathetically, “I––I––am afraid it is.”</p> +<p>He saw she was making a violent effort to control her emotions. +“Do not speak,” he said, gently; “it distresses you. +You need perfect rest and quiet.”</p> +<p>“I shall never rest again until I make atonement for my +sin,” she cried, feebly. “Oh, master, you have ever been +good and kind to me, but I have sinned against you beyond all +hope of pardon. When you hear what I have to say you will +curse me. Oh, how can I tell it! Yet I can not sleep in my +grave with this burden on my soul.”</p> +<p>He certainly thought she was delirious, this poor, patient, +toil-worn soul, speaking so incoherently of sin; she, so tender-hearted––she +could not even have hurt a sparrow.</p> +<p>“I can promise you my full pardon, Mrs. Corliss,” he said, +soothingly; “no matter on what grounds the grievance may +be.”</p> +<p>For a moment she looked at him incredulously.</p> +<p>“You do not know what you say. You do not understand,” +she muttered, fixing her fast-dimming eyes strangely upon him.</p> +<p>“Do not give yourself any uneasiness upon that score, Mrs. +Corliss,” he said, gently; “try to think of something else. Is +there anything you would like to have done for you?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, in a voice so hoarse and changed he +could scarcely recognize it was her who had spoken; “when I +tell you all, promise me you will not curse me; for I have +sinned against you so bitterly that you will cry out to Heaven +asking why I did not die long years ago, that the terrible secret +I have kept so long might have been wrung from my lips.”</p> +<p>“Surely her ravings were taking a strange freak,” he +thought to himself; “yet he would be patient with her and +humor her strange fancy.”</p> +<p>The quiet, gentle expression did not leave his face, and she +took courage.</p> +<p>“Master,” she said, clasping her hands nervously together, +“would it pain you to speak of the sweet, golden-haired young +girl-bride who died on that terrible stormy night nearly seventeen +years ago?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></div> +<p>She saw his care-worn face grow white, and the lines of pain +deepen around his mouth.</p> +<p>“That is the most painful of all subjects to me,” he said, +slowly. “You know how I have suffered since that terrible +night,” he said shudderingly. “The double loss of my sweet +young wife and her little babe has nearly driven me mad. I +am a changed man, the weight of the cross I have had to bear +has crushed me. I live on, but my heart is buried in the +grave of my sweet, golden-haired Evalia and her little child. +I repeat, it is a painful subject, still I will listen to what you +have to say. I believe I owe my life to your careful nursing, +when I was stricken with the brain fever that awful time.”</p> +<p>“It would have been better if I had let you die then, rather +than live to inflict the blow which my words will give you. +Oh, master!” she implored, “I did not know then what I did +was a sin. I feared to tell you lest the shock might cost you +your life. As time wore on, I grew so deadly frightened I +dared not undo the mischief my silence had wrought. Remember, +master, when you looked upon me in your bitterest, +fiercest moments of agony, what I did was for <i>your</i> sake; to +save your bleeding heart one more pang. I have been a good +and faithful woman all my life, faithful to your interests.”</p> +<p>“You have indeed,” he responded, greatly puzzled as to +what she could possibly mean.</p> +<p>She tried to raise herself on her elbows, but her strength +failed her, and she sunk back exhausted on the pillow.</p> +<p>“Listen, Basil Hurlhurst,” she said, fixing her strangely +bright eyes upon his noble, care-worn face; “this is the secret +I have carried in this bosom for nearly seventeen years: ‘Your +golden-haired young wife died on that terrible stormy night +you brought her to Whitestone Hall;’ but listen, Basil, ‘<i>the +child did not!</i>’ It was stolen from our midst on the night the +fair young mother died.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXX' id='CHAPTER_XXX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> +</div> +<p>“My God!” cried Basil Hurlhurst, starting to his feet, pale +as death, his eyes fairly burning, and the veins standing out on +his forehead like cords, “you do not know what you say, +woman! My little child––Evalia’s child and mine––not dead, +but stolen on the night its mother died! My God! it can not +be; surely you are mad!” he shrieked.</p> +<p>“It is true, master,” she moaned, “true as Heaven.”</p> +<p>“You knew my child, for whom I grieved for seventeen +long years, was stolen––not dead––and dared to keep the knowledge +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +from me?” he cried, passionately, beside himself with +rage, agony and fear. “Tell me quickly, then, where I shall +find my child!” he cried, breathlessly.</p> +<p>“I do not know, master,” she moaned.</p> +<p>For a few moments Basil Hurlhurst strode up and down the +room like a man bereft of reason.</p> +<p>“You will not curse me,” wailed the tremulous voice from +the bed; “I have your promise.”</p> +<p>“I can not understand how Heaven could let your lips remain +silenced all these long, agonizing years, if your story be +true. Why, yourself told me my wife and child had both died +on that never-to-be-forgotten night, and were buried in one +grave. How could you dare steep your lips with a lie so foul +and black? Heaven could have struck you dead while the +false words were yet warm on your lips!”</p> +<p>“I dared not tell you, master,” moaned the feeble voice, +“lest the shock would kill you; then, after you recovered, I +grew afraid of the secret I had dared to keep, and dared not +tell you.”</p> +<p>“And yet you knew that somewhere in this cruel world my +little child was living––my tender, little fair-haired child––while +I, her father, was wearing my life out with the grief of +that terrible double loss. Oh, woman, woman, may God forgive +you, for I never can, if your words be true.”</p> +<p>“I feared such anger as this; that is why I dared not tell +you,” she whispered, faintly. “I appeal to your respect for +me in the past to hear me, to your promise of forgiveness to +shield me, to your love for the little child to listen calmly while +I have strength to speak.”</p> +<p>He saw she was right. His head seemed on fire, and his +heart seemed bursting with the acute intensity of his great excitement.</p> +<p>He must listen while she had strength to tell him of his +child.</p> +<p>“Go on––go on!” he cried, hoarsely, burying his face in the +bed-clothes; “tell me of my child!”</p> +<p>“You remember the terrible storm, master, how the tree +moaned, and without against the western wing––where your +beautiful young wife lay dead, with the pretty, smiling, blue-eyed +babe upon her breast?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes––go on––you are driving me mad!” he groaned.</p> +<p>“You remember how you fell down senseless by her bedside +when we told you the terrible news––the young child-bride was +dead?”</p> +<p>She knew, by the quivering of his form, he heard her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></div> +<p>“As they carried you from the room, master, I thought I +saw a woman’s form gliding stealthily on before, through the +dark corridors. A blaze of lightning illumined the hall for +one brief instant, and I can swear I saw a woman’s face––a +white, mocking, gloriously beautiful face––strangely like the +face of your first wife, master, Pluma’s mother. I knew it +could not be her, for she was lying beneath the sea-waves. It +was not a good omen, and I felt sorely afraid and greatly +troubled. When I returned to the room from which they had +carried you––there lay your fair young wife with a smile on +her lips––but the tiny babe that had slumbered on her breast +was gone.”</p> +<p>“Oh, God! if you had only told me this years ago,” cried +the unhappy father. “Have you any idea who could have +taken the child? It could not have been for gain, or I should +have heard of it long ago. I did not know I had an enemy in +the wide world. You say you saw a woman’s face?” he asked, +thoughtfully.</p> +<p>“It was the ghost of your first wife,” asserted the old housekeeper, +astutely. “I never saw her face but once; but there +was something about it one could not easily forget.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst was not a superstitious man, yet he felt a +strange, unaccountable dread stealing over him at the bare +mention of such a thing. It was more than he could endure +to hear the name of the wife he had loved, and the wife who +slept beneath the wild sea-waves, coupled in one breath––the +fair young wife he had idolized, and the dark, sparkling face +of the wife who had brought upon him such wretched folly in +his youth!</p> +<p>“Have you not some clew to give me?” he cried out in +agony––“some way by which I can trace her and learn her +fate?”</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>“This is unbearable!” he cried, pacing up and down the +room like one who had received an unexpected death-blow. +“I am bewildered! Merciful Heaven! which way shall I +turn? This accounts for my restlessness all these years, when +I thought of my child––my restless longing and fanciful +dreams! I thought her quietly sleeping on Evalia’s breast. +God only knows what my tender little darling has suffered, or +in what part of the world she lives, or if she lives at all!”</p> +<p>It had been just one hour since Basil Hurlhurst had entered +that room, a placid-faced, gray-haired man. When he left it +his hair was white as snow from the terrible ordeal through +which he had just passed.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></div> +<p>He scarcely dared hope that he should yet find her––where +or how he should find her, if ever.</p> +<p>In the corridor he passed groups of maidens, but he neither +saw nor heard them. He was thinking of the child that had +been stolen from him in her infancy––the sweet little babe +with the large blue eyes and shining rings of golden hair.</p> +<p>He saw Pluma and Rex greeting some new arrivals out on +the flower-bordered terrace, but he did not stop until he had +reached his own apartments.</p> +<p>He did not send for Pluma, to divulge the wonderful discovery +he had made. There was little sympathy or confidence +between the father and daughter.</p> +<p>“I can never sleep again until I have some clew to my +child!” he cried, frantically wringing his hands.</p> +<p>Hastily he touched the bell-rope.</p> +<p>“Mason,” he said to the servant who answered the summons, +“pack my valise at once. I am going to take the first +train to Baltimore. You have no time to lose.”</p> +<p>He did not hear the man’s ejaculation of surprise as his eyes +fell on the face of the master who stood before him with hair +white as snow––so utterly changed in one short hour.</p> +<p>“You couldn’t possibly make the next train, sir; it leaves +in a few moments.”</p> +<p>“I tell you you <i>must</i> make it!” cried Basil Hurlhurst. +“Go and do as I bid you at once! Don’t stand there staring +at me; you are losing golden moments. Fly at once, I tell +you!”</p> +<p>Poor old Mason was literally astounded. What had come +over his kind, courteous master?</p> +<p>“I have nothing that could aid them in the search,” he said +to himself, pacing restlessly up and down the room. “Ah! +stay!––there is Evalia’s portrait! The little one must look like +her mother if she is living yet!”</p> +<p>He went to his writing-desk and drew from a private drawer +a little package tied with a faded ribbon, which he carefully +untied with trembling fingers.</p> +<p>It was a portrait on ivory of a beautiful, girlish, dimpled +face, with shy, upraised blue eyes, a smiling rosebud mouth, +soft pink cheeks, and a wealth of rippling, sunny-golden hair.</p> +<p>“She must look like this,” he whispered. “God grant that +I may find her!”</p> +<p>“Mr. Rex Lyon says, please may he see you a few moments, +sir,” said Mason, popping his black head in at the door.</p> +<p>“No; I do not wish to see any one, and I will not see any +one. Have you that satchel packed, I say?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></div> +<p>“Yes, sir; it will be ready directly, sir,” said the man, +obediently.</p> +<p>“Don’t come to me with any more messages––lock everybody +out. Do you hear me, Mason? I <i>will</i> be obeyed!”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, I hear. No one shall disturb you.”</p> +<p>Again Basil Hurlhurst turned to the portrait, paying little +attention to what was transpiring around him. “I shall put +it at once in the hands of the cleverest detectives,” he mused; +“surely they will be able to find some trace of my lost darling.”</p> +<p>Seventeen years! Ah, what might have happened her in +that time? The master of Whitestone Hall always kept a file +of the Baltimore papers; he rapidly ran his eye down the different +columns.</p> +<p>“Ah, here is what I want,” he exclaimed, stopping short. +“Messrs. Tudor, Peck & Co., Experienced Detectives, ––– Street, +Baltimore. They are noted for their skill. I will give +the case into their hands. If they restore my darling child +alive and well into my hands I will make them wealthy men––if +she is dead, the blow will surely kill me.”</p> +<p>He heard voices debating in the corridor without.</p> +<p>“Did you tell him I wished particularly to see him?” asked +Rex, rather discomfited at the refusal.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Mason, dubiously.</p> +<p>“Miss Pluma, his daughter, wishes me to speak with him +on a very important matter. I am surprised that he so persistently +refuses to see me,” said Rex, proudly, wondering if +Pluma’s father had heard that gossip––among the guests––that +he did not love his daughter. “I do not know that I +have offended the old gentleman in any way,” he told himself. +“If it comes to that,” he thought, “I can do no more than +confess the truth to him––the whole truth about poor little +Daisy––no matter what the consequences may be.”</p> +<p>Fate was playing at cross-purposes with handsome Rex, but +no subtle warning came to him.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXI' id='CHAPTER_XXXI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> +</div> +<p>The preparations for the wedding went steadily on. It was +to be a magnificent affair. Inside and outside of Whitestone +Hall fairly glowed with brilliancy and bloom.</p> +<p>Rex’s deportment toward his promised bride was exemplary; +he did his best to show her every possible attention and kindness +in lieu of the love which should have been hers.</p> +<p>There seemed to be no cloud in Pluma Hurlhurst’s heaven.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></div> +<p>She had no warning of the relentless storm-cloud that was +gathering above her head and was so soon to burst upon her +in all its fury.</p> +<p>She walked among her guests with a joyous, happy smile +and the air of a queen. Why should she not? On the morrow +she would gain the prize she coveted most on earth––she +would be Rex’s wife.</p> +<p>Her father had gone unexpectedly to Baltimore, and the +good old housekeeper had been laid to rest, but in the excitement +and bustle attending the great coming event these two +incidents created little comment.</p> +<p>Mirth and gayety reigned supreme, and the grim old halls +resounded with laughter and song and gay young voices from +morning until night.</p> +<p>Pluma, the spoiled, petted, willful heiress, was fond of excitement +and gay throngs.</p> +<p>“Our marriage must be an event worthy of remembrance, +Rex,” she said, as they walked together through the grounds +the morning before the wedding. “We must have something +new and novel. I am tired of brilliant parlors and gas-light. +I propose we shall have a beautiful platform built, covered +with moss and roses, beneath the blossoming trees, with the +birds singing in their boughs, upon which we shall be united. +What do you think of my idea––is it not a pretty one?”</p> +<p>“Your ideas are always poetical and fanciful,” said Rex, +glancing down into the beautiful brilliant face beside him. +“My thoughts are so dull and prosy compared with yours, are +you not afraid you will have a very monotonous life-companion?”</p> +<p>“I am going to try my best to win you from that cold reserve. +There must not be one shadow between us; do you +know, Rex, I have been thinking, if anything should ever happen +to take your love from me I should surely die. I––I am +jealous of your very thoughts. I know I ought not to admit +it, but I can not help it.”</p> +<p>Rex flushed nervously; it was really embarrassing to him, +the tender way in which she looked up to him––her black eyelids +coyly drooping over her dark, slumbrous eyes, inviting a +caress. He was certainly wooed against his will, but there was +no help for it; he was forced to take up his part and act it out +gracefully.</p> +<p>“You need not be jealous of my thoughts, Pluma,” he replied, +“for they were all of you.”</p> +<p>“I wonder if they were pleasant thoughts?” she asked, +toying with the crimson flower-bells she holds in her white +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +hands. “I have heard you sigh so much of late. Are you +quite happy, Rex?” she inquired, hesitatingly.</p> +<p>The abruptness of the question staggered him: he recovered +his composure instantly, however.</p> +<p>“How can you ask me such a question, Pluma?” he asked, +evasively; “any man ought to be proud of winning so peerless +a treasure as you are. I shall be envied by scores of disappointed +lovers, who have worshiped at your shrine. I am not +as demonstrative as some might be under similar circumstances, +but my appreciation is none the less keen.”</p> +<p>She noticed he carefully avoided the word––love.</p> +<p>In after years Rex liked to remember that, yielding to a +kindly impulse, he bent down and kissed her forehead.</p> +<p>It was the first time he had caressed her voluntarily; it was +not love which prompted the action––only kindness.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you will love me some day with your whole heart, +Rex?” she asked.</p> +<p>“You seem quite sure that I do not do that now?” he remarked.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said, clasping his arm more closely, “I often +fear you do not, but as time passes you will give me all your +affection. Love must win love.”</p> +<p>Other young girls could not have made such an open declaration +without rosy blushes suffusing their cheeks; they would +have been frightened at their free-spoken words, even though +the morrow <i>was</i> their wedding-day.</p> +<p>She stood before him in her tall, slim loveliness, as fair a +picture as any man’s eyes could rest on. She wore a most becoming +dress, and a spring blossom was in her hair. Almost +any other man’s heart would have warmed toward her as she +raised her dark eyes to his and the white fingers trembled on +his arm.</p> +<p>Rex was young, impulsive, and mortal; tender words from +such lovely lips would have intoxicated any man. Yet from +that faithful heart of his the words did not take one thought +that belonged to Daisy; he did his utmost to forget that +sunny, golden memory.</p> +<p>To Pluma, handsome, courtly Rex was an enigma. In her +own mind she liked him all the better because he had not +fallen down and worshiped her at once. Most men did that.</p> +<p>For several moments they walked along in utter silence––until +they had reached the brink of the dark pool, which lay +quite at the further end of the inclosure.</p> +<p>Pluma gave a little shuddering scream:</p> +<p>“I did not mean to bring you here,” she cried. “I always +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +avoid this path; the waters of the pool have always had a great +dread for me.”</p> +<p>“It should be filled up,” said Rex, “or fenced around; it +is certainly a dangerous locality.”</p> +<p>“It can not be filled up,” she returned, laughingly; “it is +said to be bottomless. I do not like to think of it; come away, +Rex.”</p> +<p>The magnificent bridal costume, ordered expressly from +Paris, had arrived––perfect even to the last detail. The bride-maids’ +costumes were all ready; and to everything in and +about the Hall the last finishing touches had been given.</p> +<p>All the young girls hovered constantly around Pluma, in +girl-fashion admiring the costume, the veil, the wreath, and +above all the radiantly beautiful girl who was to wear them. +Even the Glenn girls and Grace Alden were forced to admit +the willful young heiress would make the most peerless bride +they had ever beheld.</p> +<p>Little Birdie alone held aloof, much to Rex’s amusement +and Pluma’s intense mortification.</p> +<p>“Little children often take such strange freaks,” she would +say to Rex, sweetly. “I really believe your little sister intends +never to like me; I can not win one smile from her.”</p> +<p>“She is not like other children,” he replied, with a strange +twinkle in his eye. “She forms likes and dislikes to people +from simply hearing their name. Of course I agree with you +it is not right to do so, but Birdie has been humored more or +less all her life. I think she will grow to love you in time.”</p> +<p>Pluma’s lips quivered like the lips of a grieving child.</p> +<p>“I shall try so hard to make her love me, because she is +your sister, Rex.”</p> +<p>He clasped the little jeweled hands that lay so confidingly +within his own still closer, saying he knew she could not help +but succeed.</p> +<p>The whole country-side was ringing with the coming marriage. +No one could be more popular than handsome Rex +Lyon, no one admired more than the young heiress of Whitestone +Hall. The county papers were in ecstasies; they discussed +the magnificent preparations at the Hall, the number +of bride-maids, the superb wedding-presents, the arrangements +for the marriage, and the ball to be given in the evening.</p> +<p>The minister from Baltimore who was to perform the ceremony +was expected to arrive that day. That all preparations +might be completed for the coming morrow, Rex had gone +down to meet the train, and Pluma strolled into the conservatory, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +to be alone for a few moments with her own happy +thoughts.</p> +<p>Out on the green lawns happy maidens were tripping here +and there, their gay laughter floating up to her where she stood.</p> +<p>Every one seemed to be making the most of the happy occasion. +Lawn-tennis parties here and croquet-parties there, +and lovers strolling under the blossoming trees or reclining on +the rustic benches––it was indeed a happy scene.</p> +<p>Pluma leaned her dark head against the fragrant roses. +The breeze, the perfume of the flowers, all told one story to +the impassioned girl––the story of her triumph and her mad, +reckless love.</p> +<p>She gathered a spray of the fairest flowers, and fastened +them in the bodice of her dress.</p> +<p>“To-morrow I shall have won the one great prize I covet,” +she murmured, half aloud. “After to-morrow I can defy +Lester Stanwick to bring one charge against me. I shall be +Rex’s wife––it will avail him nothing.”</p> +<p>“Speaking of angels, you often hear ‘the rustle of their +wings.’ I believe there is an old adage of that sort, or something +similar,” said a deep voice beside her, and turning around +with a low cry she saw Lester Stanwick himself standing before +her.</p> +<p>For one moment her lips opened as though to utter a piercing +cry, but even the very breath seemed to die upon them, +they were so fixed and still.</p> +<p>The flowers she held in her hand fell into the fountain +against which she leaned, but she did not heed them.</p> +<p>Like one fascinated, her eyes met the gaze of the bold, flashing +dark ones bent so steadily upon her.</p> +<p>“You thought you would escape me,” he said. “How +foolish and blind you are, my clever plotter. Did you think I +did not see through your clever maneuverings? There shall +be a wedding to-morrow, but you shall marry me, instead of +handsome, debonair Rex. You can not fly from your fate.”</p> +<p>She set her lips firmly together. She had made a valiant +struggle. She would defy him to the bitter end. She was no +coward, this beautiful, imperious girl. She would die hard. +Alas! she had been too sanguine, hoping Lester Stanwick +would not return before the ceremony was performed.</p> +<p>The last hope died out of that proud, passionate heart––as +well hope to divert a tiger from its helpless prey as expect +Lester Stanwick to relinquish any plans he had once formed.</p> +<p>“I have fought my fight,” she said to herself, “and have +failed on the very threshold of victory, still, I know how to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +bear defeat. What do you propose to do?” she said, huskily. +“If there is any way I can buy your silence, name your price, +keeping back the truth will avail me little now. I love Rex, +and no power on earth shall prevent me from becoming his +wife.”</p> +<p>Lester Stanwick smiled superciliously––drawing from his +pocket a package of letters.</p> +<p>“Money could not purchase these charming <i>billets-doux</i> from +me,” he said. “This will be charming reading matter for +the Honorable Rex Lyon, and the general public to discuss.”</p> +<p>She raised her flashing eyes unflinchingly to his face, but no +word issued from her white lips.</p> +<p>“A splendid morsel for the gossips to whisper over. The +very refined and exclusive heiress of Whitestone Hall connives +to remove an innocent rival from her path, by providing money +for her to be sent off secretly to boarding-school, from which +she is to be abducted and confined in a mad-house. Your +numerous letters give full instructions; it would be useless to +deny these accusations. I hold proof positive.”</p> +<p>“That would not screen you,” she said, scornfully.</p> +<p>“I did not carry out your plans. No matter what the intentions +were, the points in the case are what actually happened. +I can swear I refused to comply with your nefarious +wishes, even though you promised me your hand and fortune +if I succeeded,” he answered, mockingly.</p> +<p>“Will not money purchase your silence?” she said, with a +deep-drawn breath. “I do not plead with you for mercy or +compassion,” she said, haughtily.</p> +<p>Lester Stanwick laughed a mocking laugh.</p> +<p>“Do not mistake me, Miss Pluma,” he said, making no attempt +at love-making; “I prefer to wrest you from Rex Lyon. +I have contemplated with intense satisfaction the blow to his +pride. It will be a glorious revenge, also giving me a charming +bride, and last, but not least, the possession at some future +day of Whitestone Hall and the Hurlhurst Plantations. A +pleasing picture, is it not, my dear?”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXII' id='CHAPTER_XXXII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> +</div> +<p>Pluma Hurlhurst never quailed beneath the cold, mocking +glance bent upon her.</p> +<p>There was no hope for her; disgrace and ruin stared her in +the face; she would defy even Fate itself to the bitter end with +a heroism worthy of a better cause. In that hour and that +mood she was capable of anything.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></div> +<p>She leaned against a tall palm-tree, looking at him with a +strange expression on her face, as she made answer, slowly:</p> +<p>“You may depend upon it, I shall never marry you, Lester +Stanwick. If I do not marry Rex I shall go unmarried to the +grave. Ah, no!” she cried desperately; “Heaven will have +more mercy, more pity than to take him from me.”</p> +<p>“What mercy or pity did you feel in thrusting poor little +Daisy Brooks from his path?” asked Stanwick, sarcastically. +“Your love has led you through dangerous paths. I should +call it certainly a most perilous love.”</p> +<p>She recoiled from him with a low cry, those words again +still ringing in her ears, “A perilous love.”</p> +<p>She laughed with a laugh that made even Stanwick’s blood +run cold––a horrible laugh.</p> +<p>“I do not grieve that she is dead,” she said. “You ought to +understand by this time I shall allow nothing to come between +Rex and me.”</p> +<p>“You forget the fine notions of honor your handsome lover +entertains; it may not have occurred to you that he might object +at the eleventh hour.”</p> +<p>“He will not,” she cried, fiercely, her bosom rising and +falling convulsively under its covering of filmy lace and the +diamond brooch which clasped it. “You do not know the +indomitable will of a desperate woman,” she gasped. “I will +see him myself and confess all to him, if you attempt to reveal +the contents of those letters. He will marry me and take +me abroad at once. If I have Rex’s love, what matters it +what the whole world knows or says?”</p> +<p>She spoke rapidly, vehemently, with flushed face and glowing +eyes; and even in her terrible anger Stanwick could not +help but notice how gloriously beautiful she was in her tragic +emotion.</p> +<p>“I have asked you to choose between us,” he said, calmly, +“and you have chosen Rex regardless of all the promises of +the past. The consequences rest upon your own head.”</p> +<p>“So be it,” she answered, haughtily.</p> +<p>With a low bow Stanwick turned and left her.</p> +<p>“<i>Au revoir</i>, my dear Pluma,” he said, turning again toward +her on the threshold. “Not farewell––I shall not give +up hope of winning the heiress of Whitestone Hall.”</p> +<p>For several moments she stood quite still among the dark-green +shrubs, and no sound told of the deadly strife and despair. +Would he see Rex and divulge the crime she had +planned? Ah! who would believe she, the proud, petted heiress +had plotted so cruelly against the life of an innocent young +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +girl because she found favor in the eyes of the lover she had +sworn to win? Ah! who could believe she had planned to +confine that sweet young life within the walls of a mad-house +until death should release her?</p> +<p>What if the plan had failed? The intention still remained +the same. She was thankful, after all, the young girl was +dead.</p> +<p>“I could never endure the thought of Rex’s intense anger +if he once imagined the truth; he would never forgive +duplicity,” she cried, wildly.</p> +<p>The proud, beautiful girl, radiant with love and happiness +a short time since, with a great cry flung herself down among +the ferns, the sunlight gleaming on the jewels, the sumptuous +morning dress, the crushed roses, and the white, despairing +face.</p> +<p>Any one who saw Pluma Hurlhurst when she entered the +drawing-room among her merry-hearted guests, would have +said that she had never shed a tear or known a sigh. Could +that be the same creature upon whose prostrate figure and +raining tears the sunshine had so lately fallen? No one could +have told that the brightness, the smiles, and the gay words +were all forced. No one could have guessed that beneath the +brilliant manner there was a torrent of dark, angry passions +and an agony of fear.</p> +<p>It was pitiful to see how her eyes wandered toward the door. +Hour after hour passed, and still Rex had not returned.</p> +<p>The hum of girlish voices around her almost made her +brain reel. Grace Alden and Miss Raynor were singing a duet +at the piano. The song they were singing fell like a death-knell +upon her ears; it was “‘He Cometh Not,’ She Said.”</p> +<p>Eve Glenn, with Birdie upon her lap, sat on an adjoining +sofa flirting desperately with the two or three devoted beaus; +every one was discussing the prospect of the coming morrow.</p> +<p>Her father had returned from Baltimore some time since. +She was too much engrossed with her thoughts of Rex to +notice the great change in him––the strange light in his eyes, +or the wistful, expectant expression of his face, as he kissed +her more fondly than he had ever done in his life before.</p> +<p>She gave appropriate answers to her guests grouped around +her, but their voices seemed afar off. Her heart and her +thoughts were with Rex. Why had he not returned? What +was detaining him? Suppose anything should happen––it +would kill her now––yet nothing could go wrong on the eve +of her wedding-day. She would not believe it. Stanwick +would not dare go to Rex with such a story––he would write +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +it––and all those things took time. With care and caution and +constant watching she would prevent Rex from receiving any +communications whatever until after the ceremony; then she +could breathe freely, for the battle so bravely fought would be +won.</p> +<p>“If to-morrow is as bright as to-day, Pluma will have a +glorious wedding-day,” said Bessie Glenn, smiling up into the +face of a handsome young fellow who was fastening a rosebud +she had just given him in the lapel of his coat with one hand, +and with the other tightly clasping the white fingers that had +held the rose.</p> +<p>He did not notice that Pluma stood in the curtained recesses +of an adjoining window as he answered, carelessly enough:</p> +<p>“Of course, I hope it will be a fine, sunshiny day, but the +indications of the weather don’t look exactly that way, if I am +any judge.”</p> +<p>“Why, you don’t think it is going to rain, do you? Why, +it will spoil the rose-bower she is to be married in and all the +beautiful decoration. Oh, please don’t predict anything so +awfully horrible; you make me feel nervous; besides, you +know what everybody says about weddings on which the rain +falls.”</p> +<p>“Would you be afraid to experiment on the idea?” asked +the impulsive young fellow, who always acted on the spur of +the moment. “If to-morrow were a rainy day, and I should +say to you, ‘Bess, will you marry me to-day or never?’ what +would your answer be?”</p> +<p>“I should say, just now, I do not like ‘ifs and ands.’ Supposing +a case, and standing face to face with it, are two different +things. I like people who say what they mean, and mean +what they say.”</p> +<p>Pluma saw the dazzling light flame into the bashful young +lover’s eyes as he bent his head lower over the blushing girl +who had shown him the right way to capture a hesitating +heart.</p> +<p>“<i>That</i> is love,” sighed Pluma. “Ah, if Rex would only +look at me like that I would think this earth a heaven.” She +looked up at the bright, dazzling clouds overhead; then she +remembered the words she had heard––“It looked like rain +on the morrow.”</p> +<p>Could those white, fleecy clouds darken on the morrow +that was to give her the only treasure she had ever coveted in +her life?</p> +<p>She was not superstitious. Even if it did rain, surely a few +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +rain-drops could not make or mar the happiness of a lifetime. +She would not believe it.</p> +<p>“Courage until to-morrow,” she said, “and my triumph +will be complete. I will have won Rex.” The little ormolu +clock on the mantel chimed the hour of five. “Heavens!” +she cried to herself, “Rex has been gone over two hours. I +feel my heart must be bursting.”</p> +<p>No one noticed Pluma’s anxiety. One moment hushed and +laughing, the queen of mirth and revelry, then pale and silent, +with shadowed eyes, furtively glancing down the broad, pebbled +path that led to the entrance gate.</p> +<p>Yet, despite her bravery, Pluma’s face and lips turned white +when she heard the confusion of her lover’s arrival.</p> +<p>Perhaps Pluma had never suffered more suspense in all her +life than was crowded into those few moments.</p> +<p>Had he seen Lester Stanwick? Had he come to denounce +her for her treachery, in his proud, clear voice, and declare +the marriage broken off?</p> +<p>She dared not step forward to greet him, lest the piercing +glance of his eyes would cause her to fall fainting at his feet.</p> +<p>“A guilty conscience needs no accuser.” Most truly the +words were exemplified in her case. Yet not one pang of remorse +swept across her proud heart when she thought of the +young girl whose life she had so skillfully blighted.</p> +<p>What was the love of Daisy Brooks, an unsophisticated +child of nature, only the overseer’s niece, compared to her own +mighty, absorbing passion?</p> +<p>The proud, haughty heiress could not understand how Rex, +polished, courteous and refined, could have stooped to such a +reckless folly. He would thank her in years to come for +sparing him from such a fate. These were the thoughts she +sought to console herself with.</p> +<p>She stood near the door when he entered, but he did not see +her; a death-like pallor swept over her face, her dark eyes had +a wild, perplexing look.</p> +<p>She was waiting in terrible suspense for Rex to call upon her +name; ask where she was, or speak some word in which she +could read her sentence of happiness or despair in the tone of +his voice.</p> +<p>She could not even catch the expression of his face; it was +turned from her. She watched him so eagerly she hardly +dared draw her breath.</p> +<p>Rex walked quickly through the room, stopping to chat +with this one or that one a moment; still, his face was not +turned for a single instant toward the spot where she stood.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span></div> +<p>Was he looking for her? She could not tell. Presently he +walked toward the conservatory, and a moment later Eve Glenn +came tripping toward her.</p> +<p>“Oh, here you are!” she cried, flinging her arms about her +in regular school-girl <i>abandon</i>, and kissing the cold, proud +mouth, that deigned no answering caress. “Rex has been +looking for you everywhere, and at last commissioned me to +find you and say he wants to speak to you. He is out on the +terrace.”</p> +<p>How she longed to ask if Rex’s face was smiling or stern, +but she dared not.</p> +<p>“Where did you say Rex was, Miss Glenn?”</p> +<p>“I said he was out on the terrace; but don’t call me Miss +Glenn, for pity’s sake––it sounds so freezingly cold. Won’t +you please call me Eve,” cried the impetuous girl––“simply +plain Eve? That has a more friendly sound, you know.”</p> +<p>Another girl less proud than the haughty heiress would have +kissed Eve’s pretty, piquant, upturned, roguish face.</p> +<p>“What did Rex have to say to her?” she asked herself, in +growing dread.</p> +<p>The last hope seemed withering in her proud, passionate +heart. She rose haughtily, and walked with the dignity of a +queen through the long drawing-room toward the terrace. +Her heart almost stopped beating as she caught sight of Rex +leaning so gracefully against the trunk of an old gnarled oak +tree, smoking a cigar. That certainly did not look as if he +meant to greet her with a kiss.</p> +<p>She went forward hesitatingly––a world of anxiety and suspense +on her face––to know her fate. The color surged over +her face, then receded from it again, as she looked at him with +a smile––a smile that was more pitiful than a sigh.</p> +<p>“Rex,” she cried, holding out her hands to him with a +fluttering, uncertain movement that stirred the perfumed +laces of the exquisite robe she wore, and the jewels on her +white, nervous hands––“Rex, I am here!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXIII' id='CHAPTER_XXXIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>We must now return to Daisy, whom we left standing in the +heart of the forest, the moonlight streaming on her upturned +face, upon which the startled horseman gazed.</p> +<p>He had not waited for her to reply, but, touching his horse +hastily with his riding-whip, he sped onward with the speed of +the wind.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></div> +<p>In that one instant Daisy had recognized the dark, sinister, +handsome face of Lester Stanwick.</p> +<p>“They have searched the pit and found I was not there. +He is searching for me; he has tracked me down!” she cried, +vehemently, pressing her little white hands to her burning +head.</p> +<p>Faster, faster flew the little feet through the long dew-damp +grasses.</p> +<p>“My troubles seem closing more darkly around me,” she +sobbed. “I wish I had never been born, then I could never +have spoiled Rex’s life. But I am leaving you, my love, my +darling, so you can marry Pluma, the heiress. You will forget +me and be happy.”</p> +<p>Poor little, neglected, unloved bride, so fair, so young, so +fragile, out alone facing the dark terrors of the night, fleeing +from the young husband who was wearing his life out in grief +for her. Ah, if the gentle winds sighing above her, or the +solemn, nodding trees had only told her, how different her life +might have been!</p> +<p>“No one has ever loved me but poor old Uncle John!” +She bent her fair young head and cried out to Heaven: +“Why has no mercy been shown to me? I have never done +one wrong, yet I am so sorely tried. Oh, mother, mother!” +she cried, raising her blue eyes up to the starry sky, “if you +could have foreseen the dark, cruel shadows that would have +folded their pitiless wings over the head of your child, would +you not have taken me with you down into the depths of the +seething waters?” She raised up her white hands pleadingly +as though she would fain pierce with her wrongs the blue skies, +and reach the great White Throne. “I must be going mad,” +she said. “Why did Rex seek me out?” she cried, in anguish. +“Why did Heaven let me love him so madly, and my whole +life be darkened by living apart from him if I am to live? I +had no thought of suffering and sorrow when I met him that +summer morning. Are the summer days to pass and never +bring him? Are the flowers to bloom, the sun to shine, the +years to come and go, yet never bring him once to me? I can +not bear it––I do not know how to live!”</p> +<p>If she could only see poor old, faithful John Brooks again +she would kneel at his feet just as she had done when she was +a little child, lay her weary head down on his toil-hardened +hand, tell him how she had suffered, and ask him how she +could die and end it all.</p> +<p>She longed so hungrily for some one to caress her, murmuring +tender words over her. She could almost hear his voice +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +saying as she told him her pitiful story: “Come to my arms, +pet, my poor little trampled Daisy! You shall never want for +some one to love you while poor old Uncle John lives. Bless +your dear little heart!”</p> +<p>The longing was strongly upon her. No one would recognize +her––she <i>must</i> go and see poor old John. She never +thought what would become of her life after that.</p> +<p>At the station she asked for a ticket for Allendale. No one +seemed to know of such a place. After a prolonged search on +the map the agent discovered it to be a little inland station +not far from Baltimore.</p> +<p>“We can sell you a ticket for Baltimore,” he said, “and +there you can purchase a ticket for the other road.”</p> +<p>And once again poor little Daisy was whirling rapidly toward +the scene of her first great sorrow.</p> +<p>Time seemed to slip by her unheeded during all that long, +tedious journey of two nights and a day.</p> +<p>“Are you going to Baltimore?” asked a gentle-faced lady, +who was strangely attracted to the beautiful, sorrowful young +girl, in which all hope, life, and sunshine seemed dead.</p> +<p>“Yes, madame,” she made answer, “I change cars there; +I am going further.”</p> +<p>The lady was struck by the peculiar mournful cadence of +the young voice.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon for my seeming rudeness,” she said, +looking long and earnestly at the fair young face; “but you +remind me so strangely of a young school-mate of my youth; +you are strangely like what she was then. We both attended +Madame Whitney’s seminary. Perhaps you have heard of the +institution; it is a very old and justly famous school.” She +wondered at the beautiful flush that stole into the girl’s flower-like +face––like the soft, faint tinting of a sea-shell. “She +married a wealthy planter,” pursued the lady, reflectively; +“but she did not live long to enjoy her happy home. One +short year after she married Evalia Hurlhurst died.” The +lady never forgot the strange glance that passed over the girl’s +face, or the wonderful light that seemed to break over it. +“Why,” exclaimed the lady, as if a sudden thought occurred +to her, “when you bought your ticket I heard you mention +Allendale. That was the home of the Hurlhursts. Is it possible +you know them? Mr. Hurlhurst is a widower––something +of a recluse, and an invalid, I have heard; he has a +daughter called Pluma.”</p> +<p>“Yes, madame,” Daisy made answer, “I have met Miss +Hurlhurst, but not her father.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></div> +<p>How bitterly this stranger’s words seemed to mock her! +Did she know Pluma Hurlhurst, the proud, haughty heiress +who had stolen her young husband’s love from her?––the dark, +sparkling, willful beauty who had crossed her innocent young +life so strangely––whom she had seen bending over <i>her</i> husband +in the pitying moonlight almost caressing him? She +thought she would cry out with the bitterness of the thought. +How strange it was! The name, Evalia Hurlhurst, seemed to +fall upon her ears like the softest, sweetest music. Perhaps +she wished she was like that young wife, who had died so long +ago, resting quietly beneath the white daisies that bore her +name.</p> +<p>“That is Madame Whitney’s,” exclaimed the lady, leaning +forward toward the window excitedly. “Dear me! I can almost +imagine I am a young girl again. Why, what is the +matter, my dear? You look as though you were about to +faint.”</p> +<p>The train whirled swiftly past––the broad, glittering Chesapeake +on one side, and the closely shaven lawn of the seminary +on the other. It was evidently recess. Young girls were +flitting here and there under the trees, as pretty a picture of +happy school life as one would wish to see. It seemed to +poor hapless Daisy long ages must have passed since that +morning poor old John Brooks had brought her, a shy, blushing, +shrinking country lassie, among those daintily attired, +aristocratic maidens, who had laughed at her coy, timid +mannerism, and at the clothes poor John wore, and at his +flaming red cotton neckerchief.</p> +<p>She had not much time for further contemplation. The +train steamed into the Baltimore depot, and she felt herself +carried along by the surging crowd that alighted from the +train.</p> +<p>She did not go into the waiting-room; she had quite forgotten +she was not at the end of her journey.</p> +<p>She followed the crowds along the bustling street, a solitary, +desolate, heart-broken girl, with a weary white face whose +beautiful, tender eyes looked in vain among the throngs that +passed her by for one kindly face or a sympathetic look.</p> +<p>Some pushed rudely by her, others looked into the beautiful +face with an ugly smile. Handsomely got-up dandies, with +fine clothes and no brains, nodded familiarly as Daisy passed +them. Some laughed, and others scoffed and jeered; but not +one––dear Heaven! not one among the vast throng gave her a +kindly glance or a word. Occasionally one, warmer hearted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +than the others, would look sadly on that desolate, beautiful, +childish face.</p> +<p>A low moan she could scarcely repress broke from her lips. +A handsomely dressed child, who was rolling a hoop in front +of her, turned around suddenly and asked her if she was ill.</p> +<p>“Ill?” She repeated the word with a vague feeling of +wonder. What was physical pain to the torture that was eating +away her young life? Ill? Why, all the illness in the +world put together could not cause the anguish she was suffering +then––the sting of a broken heart.</p> +<p>She was not ill––only desolate and forsaken.</p> +<p>Poor Daisy answered in such a vague manner that she quite +frightened the child, who hurried away as fast as she could +with her hoop, pausing now and then to look back at the +white, forlorn face on which the sunshine seemed to cast such +strange shadows.</p> +<p>On and on Daisy walked, little heeding which way she went. +She saw what appeared to be a park on ahead, and there she +bent her steps. The shady seats among the cool green grasses +under the leafy trees looked inviting. She opened the gate +and entered. A sudden sense of dizziness stole over her, and +her breath seemed to come in quick, convulsive gasps.</p> +<p>“Perhaps God has heard my prayer, Rex, my love,” she +sighed. “I am sick and weary unto death. Oh, Rex––Rex––”</p> +<p>The beautiful eyelids fluttered over the soft, blue eyes, and +with that dearly loved name on her lips, the poor little child-bride +sunk down on the cold, hard earth in a death-like swoon.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear me, Harvey, who in the world is this?” cried a +little, pleasant-voiced old lady, who had witnessed the young +girl enter the gate, and saw her stagger and fall. In a moment +she had fluttered down the path, and was kneeling by +Daisy’s side.</p> +<p>“Come here, Harvey,” she called; “it is a young girl; she +has fainted.”</p> +<p>Mr. Harvey Tudor, the celebrated detective, threw away the +cigar he had been smoking, and hastened to his wife’s side.</p> +<p>“Isn’t she beautiful?” cried the little lady, in ecstasy. +“I wonder who she is, and what she wanted.”</p> +<p>“She is evidently a stranger, and called to consult me professionally,” +responded Mr. Tudor; “she must be brought +into the house.”</p> +<p>He lifted the slight, delicate figure in his arms, and bore +her into the house.</p> +<p>“I am going down to the office now, my dear,” he said; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +“we have some important cases to look after this morning. I +will take a run up in the course of an hour or so. If the young +girl should recover and wish to see me very particularly, I suppose +you will have to send for me. Don’t get me away up here +unless you find out the case is imperative.”</p> +<p>And with a good-humored nod, the shrewd detective, so +quiet and domesticated at his own fireside, walked quickly +down the path to the gate, whistling softly to himself––thinking +with a strange, puzzled expression in his keen blue eyes, of +Daisy. Through all of his business transactions that morning +the beautiful, childish face was strangely before his mind’s eye.</p> +<p>“Confound it!” he muttered, seizing his hat, “I must +hurry home and find out at once who that pretty little creature +is––and what she wants.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXIV' id='CHAPTER_XXXIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> +</div> +<p>The sunny summer days came and went, lengthening themselves +into long weeks before Daisy Brooks opened her eyes to +consciousness. No clew could be found as to who the beautiful +young stranger was.</p> +<p>Mr. Tudor had proposed sending her to the hospital––but to +this proposition his wife would not listen.</p> +<p>“No, indeed, Harvey,” she exclaimed, twisting the soft, +golden curls over her white fingers, “she shall stay here +where I can watch over her myself, poor little dear.”</p> +<p>“You amaze me, my dear,” expostulated her husband, +mildly. “You can not tell who you may be harboring.”</p> +<p>“Now, Harvey,” exclaimed the little woman, bending over +the beautiful, still, white face resting against the crimson satin +pillow, “don’t insinuate there could be anything wrong with +this poor child. My woman’s judgment tells me she is as pure +as those lilies in yonder fountain’s bed.”</p> +<p>“If you had seen as much of the world as I have, my dear, +you would take little stock in the innocence of beautiful +women; very homely women are rarely dangerous.”</p> +<p>“There is no use in arguing the point, Harvey. I have +determined she shall not be sent to the hospital, and she shall +stay here.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor carried the point, as she always did in every +argument.</p> +<p>“Well, my dear, if any ill consequences arise from this piece +of folly of yours, remember, I shirk all responsibility.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“‘When a woman will, she will, you may depend on’t,<br /> +And when she won’t––she won’t, and there’s an end on’t,’”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>he quoted, dryly. “I sincerely hope you will not rue it.”</p> +<p>“Now, you would be surprised, my dear, to find out at +some future time you had been entertaining an angel unawares.”</p> +<p>“I should be <i>extremely</i> surprised; you have put it mildly, +my dear––nay, I may say dumbfounded––to find an angel +dwelling down here below among us sinners. My experience +has led me to believe the best place for angels is up above +where they belong. I am glad that <i>you</i> have such pretty +little notions, though, my dear. It is not best for women to +know too much of the ways of the world.”</p> +<p>“Harvey, you shock me!” cried the little lady, holding up +her hands in horror at her liege lord’s remarks.</p> +<p>Still she had her own way in the matter, and Daisy stayed.</p> +<p>Every day the detective grew more mystified as to who in +the world she could be. One thing was certain, she had seen +some great trouble which bid fair to dethrone her reason.</p> +<p>At times she would clasp his hands, calling him Uncle +John, begging him piteously to tell her how she could die. +And she talked incoherently, too, of a dark, handsome woman’s +face, that had come between her and some lost treasure.</p> +<p>Then a grave look would come into the detective’s face. +He had seen many such cases, and they always ended badly, +he said to himself. She had such an innocent face, so fair, so +childish, he could not make up his mind whether she was +sinned against or had been guilty of a hidden sin herself.</p> +<p>Love must have something to do with it, he thought, grimly. +Whenever he saw such a hopeless, despairing look on a +young and beautiful face he always set it down as a love case +in his own mind, and in nine cases out of ten he was right.</p> +<p>“Ah! it is the old, old story,” he muttered. “A pretty, +romantic school-girl, and some handsome, reckless lover,” +and something very much like an imprecation broke from his +lips, thorough man of the world though he was, as he ruminated +on the wickedness of men.</p> +<p>Two days before the marriage of Rex and Pluma was to be +solemnized, poor little Daisy awoke to consciousness, her blue +eyes resting on the joyous face of Mrs. Tudor, who bent over +her with bated breath, gazing into the upraised eyes, turned +so wonderingly upon her.</p> +<p>“You are to keep perfectly quiet, my dear,” said Mrs. +Tudor, pleasantly, laying her hands on Daisy’s lips as she attempted +to speak. “You must not try to talk or to think; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +turn your face from the light, and go quietly to sleep for a +bit, then you shall say what you please.”</p> +<p>Daisy wondered who the lady was, as she obeyed her like an +obedient, tired child––the voice seemed so motherly, so kind, +and so soothing, as she lay there, trying to realize how she +came there. Slowly all her senses struggled into life, her +memory came back, her mind and brain grew clear. Then +she remembered walking into the cool, shady garden, and the +dizziness which seemed to fall over her so suddenly. “I must +have fainted last night,” she thought. She also remembered +Pluma bending so caressingly over her young husband in the +moonlight, and that the sight had almost driven her mad, +and, despite her efforts to suppress her emotion, she began to +sob aloud.</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor hurried quickly to the bedside. She saw at +once the ice from the frozen fountain of memory had melted.</p> +<p>“If you have any great sorrow on your mind, my dear, and +wish to see Mr. Tudor, I will call him at once. He is in the +parlor.”</p> +<p>“Please don’t,” sobbed Daisy. “I don’t want to see anybody. +I must go home to Uncle John at once. Have I been +here all night?”</p> +<p>“Why, bless your dear little heart, you have been here +many a night and many a week. We thought at one time +you would surely die.”</p> +<p>“I wish I had,” moaned Daisy. In the bitterness of her +sorely wounded heart she said to herself that Providence had +done everything for her without taking her life.</p> +<p>“We thought,” pursued Mrs. Tudor, gently, “that perhaps +you desired to see my husband––he is a detective––upon +some matter. You fainted when you were just within the +gate.”</p> +<p>“Was it your garden?” asked Daisy, surprisedly. “I +thought it was a park!”</p> +<p>“Then you were not in search of Mr. Tudor, my dear?” +asked his wife, quite mystified.</p> +<p>“No,” replied Daisy. “I wanted to get away from every +one who knew me, or every one I knew, except Uncle John.”</p> +<p>“I shall not question her concerning herself to-day,” Mrs. +Tudor thought. “I will wait a bit until she is stronger.” +She felt delicate about even asking her name. “She will seek +my confidence soon,” she thought. “I must wait.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor was a kind-hearted little soul. She tried every +possible means of diverting Daisy’s attention from the absorbing +sorrow which seemed consuming her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></div> +<p>She read her choice, sparkling paragraphs from the papers, +commenting upon them, in a pretty, gossiping way.</p> +<p>Nothing seemed to interest the pretty little creature, or +bring a smile to the quivering, childish lips.</p> +<p>“Ah! here is something quite racy!” she cried, drawing her +chair up closer to the bedside. “<i>A scandal in high life.</i> This +is sure to be entertaining.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor was a good little woman, but, like all women in +general, she delighted in a spicy scandal.</p> +<p>A handsome stranger had married a beautiful heiress. For +a time all went merry as a marriage-bell. Suddenly a second +wife appeared on the scene, of which no one previously knew +the existence. The husband had sincerely believed himself +separated by law from wife number one, but through some +technicality of the law, the separation was pronounced illegal, +and the beautiful heiress bitterly realized to her cost that she +was no wife.</p> +<p>“It must be a terrible calamity to be placed in such a predicament,” +cried Mrs. Tudor, energetically. “I blame the +husband for not finding out beyond a doubt that he was free +from his first wife.”</p> +<p>A sudden thought seemed to come to Daisy, so startling it +almost took her breath away.</p> +<p>“Supposing a husband left his wife, and afterward thought +her dead, even though she were not, and he should marry +again, would it not be legal? Supposing the poor, deserted +wife knew of it, but allowed him to marry that some one else, +because she believed he was unhappy with herself, would it +not be legal?” she repeated in an intense voice, striving to +appear calm.</p> +<p>“I can scarcely understand the question, my dear. I should +certainly say, if the first wife knew her husband was about to +remarry, and she knew she was not separated from him by +law or death, she was certainly a criminal in allowing the +ceremony to proceed. Why, did you ever hear of such a +peculiar case, my dear?”</p> +<p>“No,” replied Daisy, flushing crimson. “I was thinking +of Enoch Arden.”</p> +<p>“Why, there is scarcely a feature in Enoch Arden’s case +resembling the one you have just cited. You must have made +a mistake?”</p> +<p>“Yes; you are right. I have made a mistake,” muttered +Daisy, growing deadly pale. “I did not know. I believed it +was right.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></div> +<p>“You believed what was right?” asked Mrs. Tudor, in +amazement.</p> +<p>“I believed it was right for the first wife to go out of her +husband’s life if she had spoiled it, and leave him free to woo +and win the bride he loved,” replied Daisy, pitifully embarrassed.</p> +<p>“Why, you innocent child,” laughed Mrs. Tudor, “I have +said he would <i>not</i> be free as long as the law did not separate +him from his first wife, and she was alive. It is against the +law of Heaven for any man to have two wives; and if the first +wife remained silent and saw the sacred ceremony profaned by +that silence, she broke the law of Heaven––a sin against God +beyond pardon. Did you speak?” she asked, seeing Daisy’s +white lips move.</p> +<p>She did not know a prayer had gone up to God from that +young tortured heart for guidance.</p> +<p>Had she done wrong in letting Rex and the whole world believe +her dead? Was it ever well to do a wrong that good +should come from it?</p> +<p>And the clear, innocent, simple conscience was quick to +answer, “No!”</p> +<p>Poor Daisy looked at the position in every possible way, and +the more she reflected the more frightened she became.</p> +<p>Poor, little, artless child-bride, she was completely bewildered. +She could find no way out of her difficulty until the +idea occurred to her that the best person to help her would be +John Brooks; and her whole heart and soul fastened eagerly +on this.</p> +<p>She could not realize she had lain ill so long. Oh, Heaven, +what might have happened in the meantime, if Rex should +marry Pluma? She would not be his wife because <i>she</i>––who +was a barrier between them––lived.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXV' id='CHAPTER_XXXV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> +</div> +<p>Daisy had decided the great question of her life. Yes, she +would go to John Brooks with her pitiful secret, and, kneeling +at his feet, tell him all, and be guided by his judgment.</p> +<p>“I can never go back to Rex,” she thought, wearily. “I +have spoiled his life; he does not love me; he wished to be free +and marry Pluma.”</p> +<p>“You must not think of the troubles of other people, my +dear,” said Mrs. Tudor, briskly, noting the thoughtful expression +of the fair young face. “Such cases as I have just +read you are fortunately rare. I should not have read you the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +scandals. Young girls like to hear about the marriages best. +Ah! here is one that is interesting––a grand wedding which is +to take place at Whitestone Hall, in Allendale, to-morrow +night. I have read of it before; it will be a magnificent affair. +The husband-to-be, Mr. Rexford Lyon, is very wealthy; and +the bride, Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, is quite a society belle––a +beauty and an heiress.”</p> +<p>Poor Daisy! although she had long expected it, the announcement +seemed like a death-blow to her loving little heart; in a +single instant all her yearning, passionate love for her handsome +young husband awoke into new life.</p> +<p>She had suddenly awakened to the awful reality that her +husband was about to marry another.</p> +<p>“Oh, pitiful Heaven, what shall I do?” she cried, wringing +her hands. “I will be too late to warn them. Yet I must––I +must! It must not be!” she cried out to herself; “the +marriage would be wrong.” If she allowed it to go on, she +would be guilty of a crime; therefore, she must prevent it.</p> +<p>Pluma was her mortal enemy. Yet she must warn her that +the flower-covered path she was treading led to a precipice. +The very thought filled her soul with horror.</p> +<p>She wasted no more time in thinking, she must act.</p> +<p>“I can not go to poor old Uncle John first,” she told herself. +“I must go at once to Pluma. Heaven give me strength +to do it. Rex will never know, and I can go quietly out of +his life again.”</p> +<p>The marriage must not be! Say, think, argue with herself +as she would, she could not help owning to herself that it was +something that must be stopped at any price. She had not +realized it in its true light before. She had had a vague idea +that her supposed death would leave Rex free to marry Pluma. +That wrong could come of it, in any way, she never once +dreamed.</p> +<p>The terrible awakening truth had flashed upon her suddenly; +she might hide herself forever from her husband, but it would +not lessen the fact; she, and she only, was his lawful wife before +God and man. From Heaven nothing could be hidden.</p> +<p>Her whole heart seemed to go out to her young husband and +cling to him as it had never done before.</p> +<p>“What a fatal love mine was!” she said to herself; “how +fatal, how cruel to me!”</p> +<p>To-morrow night! Oh, Heaven! would she be in time to +save him? The very thought seemed to arouse all her energy.</p> +<p>“Why, what are you going to do, my dear?” cried Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +Tudor, in consternation, as Daisy staggered, weak and trembling, +from her couch.</p> +<p>“I am going away,” she cried. “I have been guilty of a +great wrong. I can not tell you all that I have done, but I +must atone for it if it is in my power while yet there is +time. Pity me, but do not censure me;” and sobbing as if +her heart would break, she knelt at the feet of the kind friend +Heaven had given her and told her all.</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor listened in painful interest and amazement. It +was a strange story this young girl told her; it seemed more +like a romance than a page from life’s history.</p> +<p>“You say you must prevent this marriage at Whitestone +Hall.” She took Daisy’s clasped hands from her weeping +face, and holding them in her own looked into it silently, +keenly, steadily. “How could you do it? What is Rexford +Lyon to you?”</p> +<p>Lower and lower drooped the golden bowed head, and a +voice like no other voice, like nothing human, said:</p> +<p>“I am Rex Lyon’s wife, his wretched, unhappy, abandoned +wife.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor dropped her hands with a low cry of dismay.</p> +<p>“You will keep my secret,” sobbed Daisy; and in her great +sorrow she did not notice the lady did not promise.</p> +<p>In vain Mrs. Tudor pleaded with her to go back to her husband +and beg him to hear her.</p> +<p>“No,” said Daisy, brokenly. “He said I had spoiled his +life, and he would never forgive me. I have never taken his +name, and I never shall. I will be Daisy Brooks until I die.”</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks!” The name seemed familiar to Mrs. +Tudor, yet she could not tell where she had heard it before.</p> +<p>Persuasion was useless. “Perhaps Heaven knows best,” +sighed Mrs. Tudor, and with tears in her eyes (for she had +really loved the beautiful young stranger, thrown for so many +long weeks upon her mercy and kindness) she saw Daisy depart.</p> +<p>“May God grant you may not be too late!” she cried, +fervently, clasping the young girl, for the last time, in her +arms.</p> +<p>Too late! The words sounded like a fatal warning to her. +No, no; she could not, she must not, be too late!</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>At the very moment Daisy had left the detective’s house, +Basil Hurlhurst was closeted with Mr. Tudor in his private +office, relating minutely the disappearance of his infant daughter, +as told him by the dying housekeeper, Mrs. Corliss.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></div> +<p>“I will make you a rich man for life,” he cried, vehemently, +“if you can trace my long-lost child, either dead or alive!”</p> +<p>Mr. Tudor shook his head. “I am inclined to think there +is little hope, after all these years.”</p> +<p>“Stranger things than that have happened,” cried Basil +Hurlhurst, tremulously. “You must give me hope, Mr. +Tudor. You are a skillful, expert detective; you will find +her, if any one can. If my other child were living,” he continued, +with an effort, “you know it would make considerable +difference in the distribution of my property. On the night +my lost child was born I made my will, leaving Whitestone +Hall and the Hurlhurst Plantations to the child just born, and +the remainder of my vast estates I bequeathed to my daughter +Pluma. I believed my little child buried with its mother, and +in all these years that followed I never changed that will––it +still stands. My daughter Pluma is to be married to-morrow +night. I have not told her of the startling discovery I have +made; for if anything should come of it, her hopes of a lifetime +would be dashed. She believes herself sole heiress to my +wealth. I have made up my mind, however,” he continued, +eagerly, “to confide in the young man who is to be my future +son-in-law. If nothing ever comes of this affair, Pluma need +never know of it.”</p> +<p>“That would be a wise and safe plan,” assented the detective.</p> +<p>“Wealth can have no influence over him,” continued the +father, reflectively; “for Mr. Rex Lyon’s wealth is sufficient +for them, even if they never had a single dollar from me; +still, it is best to mention this matter to him.”</p> +<p>Rex Lyon! Ah! the detective remembered him well––the +handsome, debonair young fellow who had sought his services +some time since, whose wife had died such a tragic death. He +remembered how sorry he had been for the young husband; +still he made no comment. He had little time to ruminate +upon past affairs. It was his business now to glean from Mr. +Hurlhurst all the information possible to assist him in the difficult +search he was about to commence. If he gave him even +the slightest clew, he could have had some definite starting +point. The detective was wholly at sea––it was like looking +for a needle in a hay-stack.</p> +<p>“You will lose no time,” said Basil Hurlhurst, rising to depart. +“Ah!” he exclaimed, “I had forgotten to leave you +my wife’s portrait. I have a fancy the child, if living, must +have her mother’s face.”</p> +<p>At that opportune moment some one interrupted them. Mr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +Tudor had not time to open the portrait and examine it then, +and, placing it securely in his private desk, he courteously bade +Mr. Hurlhurst good-afternoon; adding, if he <i>should</i> find a +possible clew, he would let him know at once, or, perhaps, +take a run up to Whitestone Hall to look around a bit among +the old inhabitants of that locality.</p> +<p>It was almost time for quitting the office for the night, when +the detective thought of the portrait. He untied the faded +blue ribbon, and touched the spring; the case flew open, revealing +a face that made him cry out in amazement:</p> +<p>“Pshaw! people have a strange trick of resembling each +other very often,” he muttered; “I must be mistaken.”</p> +<p>Yet the more he examined the fair, bewitching face of the +portrait, with its childish face and sunny, golden curls, the +more he knit his brow and whistled softly to himself––a habit +he had when thinking deeply.</p> +<p>He placed the portrait in his breast-pocket, and walked +slowly home. A brilliant idea was in his active brain.</p> +<p>“I shall soon see,” he muttered.</p> +<p>His wife met him at the door, and he saw that her eyes were +red with weeping.</p> +<p>“What is the commotion, my dear?” he asked, hanging +his hat and coat on the hat-rack in the hall. “What’s the +difficulty?”</p> +<p>“Our protégée has gone, Harvey; she––”</p> +<p>“Gone!” yelled the detective, frantically, “where did she +go? How long has she been gone?”</p> +<p>Down from the rack came his hat and coat.</p> +<p>“Where are you going, Harvey?”</p> +<p>“I am going to hunt that girl up just as fast as I can.”</p> +<p>“She did not wish to see you, my dear.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t the time to explain to you,” he expostulated. +“Of course, you have no idea where she went, have you?”</p> +<p>“Wait a bit, Harvey,” she replied, a merry twinkle in her +eye. “You have given me no time to tell you. I do know +where she went. Sit down and I will tell you all about it.”</p> +<p>“You will make a long story out of nothing,” he exclaimed, +impatiently; “and fooling my time here may cost me a fortune.”</p> +<p>Very reluctantly Mr. Tudor resumed his seat at his wife’s +earnest persuasion.</p> +<p>“Skim lightly over the details, my dear; just give me the +main points,” he said.</p> +<p>Like the good little wife she was, Mrs. Tudor obediently +obeyed.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></div> +<p>It was not often the cool, calculating detective allowed himself +to get excited, but as she proceeded he jumped up from +his seat, and paced restlessly up and down the room. He was +literally astounded.</p> +<p>“Rex Lyon’s wife,” he mused, thoughtfully. “Well, in +all the years of my experience I have never come across anything +like this. She has gone to Whitestone Hall, you say, to +stop the marriage?” he questioned, eagerly.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, “the poor child was almost frantic over +it. You seem greatly agitated, Harvey. Have you some new +case connected with her?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he answered, grimly. “I think I have two cases.”</p> +<p>Mr. Tudor seldom brought his business perplexities to his +fireside. His little wife knew as little of business matters as +the sparrows twittering on the branches of the trees out in the +garden.</p> +<p>He made up his mind not to mention certain suspicions that +had lodged in his mind until he saw his way clearly out of the +complicated affair.</p> +<p>He determined it would do no harm to try an experiment, +however. Suiting the action to the thought, he drew out the +portrait from his pocket.</p> +<p>“I do not think I shall have as much trouble with this affair +as I anticipated.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Tudor came and leaned over his shoulder.</p> +<p>“Whose picture have you there, Harvey? Why, I declare,” +she cried, in amazement, “if it isn’t Daisy Brooks!”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Rex Lyon, you mean,” said the detective, with a sly +twinkle in his eye. “But for once in your life you are at sea––and +far from shore; this portrait represents a different person +altogether. Come, come, wife, get me a cup of tea––quick––and +a biscuit,” he cried, leading the way to the +kitchen, where the savory supper was cooking. “I haven’t +time to wait for tea, I must overtake that girl before she +reaches Whitestone Hall.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXVI' id='CHAPTER_XXXVI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> +</div> +<p>The shade of night was wrapping its dusky mantle over the +earth as Daisy, flushed and excited, and trembling in every +limb, alighted from the train at Allendale.</p> +<p>Whitestone Hall was quite a distance from the station; she +had quite a walk before her.</p> +<p>Not a breath of air seemed to stir the branches of the trees, +and the inky blackness of the sky presaged the coming storm.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span></div> +<p>Since dusk the coppery haze seemed to gather itself together; +great purple masses of clouds piled themselves in the sky; a +lurid light overspread the heavens, and now and then the +dense, oppressive silence was broken by distant peals of thunder, +accompanied by great fierce rain-drops.</p> +<p>Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, struggling bravely on +through the storm and the darkness, her heart beating so loudly +she wondered it did not break.</p> +<p>Poor child! how little she knew she was fast approaching +the crisis of her life!</p> +<p>She remembered, with a little sob, the last time she had +traversed that road––she was seated by John Brooks’s side +straining her eyes toward the bend in the road, watching eagerly +for the first glimpse of the magnolia-tree, and the handsome +young husband waiting there.</p> +<p>Coy blushes suffused Daisy’s cheeks as she struggled on +through the pouring rain. She forgot she was a wretched, +unpitied, forsaken little bride, on a mission of such great importance. +She was only a simple child, after all, losing sight +of all the whole world, as her thoughts dwelt on the handsome +young fellow, her husband in name only, whom she saw waiting +for her at the trysting-place, looking so cool, so handsome +and lovable in his white linen suit and blue tie; his white straw +hat, with the blue-dotted band around it, lying on the green +grass beside him, and the sunshine drifting through the green +leaves on his smiling face and brown, curling hair.</p> +<p>“If Rex had only known I was innocent, he could not have +judged me so harshly. Oh, my love––my love!” she cried out. +“Heaven must have made us for each other, but a fate more +cruel than death has torn us asunder. Oh, Rex, my love, if +you had only been more patient with me!”</p> +<p>She crept carefully along the road through the intense darkness +and the down-pouring rain. She knew every inch of the +ground. She could not lose her way. She reached the turn +in the road which was but a few feet distant from the magnolia-tree +where first she had met Rex and where she had seen him +last––a few steps more and she would reach it.</p> +<p>A blinding glare of lightning lighted up the scene for one +brief instant; there was the tree, but, oh! was it only a fancy +of her imagination? she thought she saw a man’s figure kneeling +under it.</p> +<p>“Who was he, and what was he doing there?” she wondered. +She stood rooted to the spot. “Perhaps he had taken +refuge there from the fury of the storm.”</p> +<p>Daisy was a shrinking, timid little creature; she dared not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +move a step further, although the golden moments that flitted +by were as precious as her life-blood.</p> +<p>She drew back, faint with fear, among the protecting +shadows of the trees. Another flash of light––the man was +surely gathering wild flowers from the rain-drenched grass.</p> +<p>“Surely the man must be mad,” thought Daisy, with a cold +thrill of horror.</p> +<p>Her limbs trembled so from sheer fright they refused to +bear her slight weight, and with a shudder of terror she sunk +down in the wet grass, her eyes fixed as one fascinated on the +figure under the tree, watching his every movement, as the +lurid lightning illumined the scene at brief intervals.</p> +<p>The great bell from the turret of Whitestone Hall pealed +the hour of seven, and in the lightning’s flash she saw the man +arise from his knees; in one hand he held a small bunch of +flowers, the other was pressed over his heart.</p> +<p>Surely there was something strangely familiar in that graceful +form; then he turned his face toward her.</p> +<p>In that one instantaneous glance she had recognized him––it +was Rex, her husband––as he turned hastily from the spot, +hurrying rapidly away in the direction of Whitestone Hall.</p> +<p>“Why was Rex there alone on his wedding-night under the +magnolia-tree in the terrible storm?” she asked herself, in a +strange, bewildered way. “What could it mean?” She had +heard the ceremony was to be performed promptly at half past +eight, it was seven already. “What could it mean?”</p> +<p>She had been too much startled and dismayed when she +found it was Rex to make herself known. Ah, no, Rex must +never know she was so near him; it was Pluma she must see.</p> +<p>“Why had he come to the magnolia-tree?” she asked herself +over and over again. A moment later she had reached +the self-same spot, and was kneeling beneath the tree, just as +Rex had done. She put out her little white hand to caress +the grass upon which her husband had knelt, but it was not +grass which met her touch, but a bed of flowers; that was +strange, too.</p> +<p>She never remembered flowers to grow on that spot. There +was nothing but the soft carpet of green grass, she remembered.</p> +<p>One or two beneath her touch were broken from the stem. +She knew Rex must have dropped them, and the poor little +soul pressed the flowers to her lips, murmuring passionate, loving +words over them. She did not know the flowers were +daisies; yet they seemed so familiar to the touch.</p> +<p>She remembered how she had walked home from the rectory +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +with Rex in the moonlight, and thought to herself how funny +it sounded to hear Rex call her his wife, in that rich melodious +voice of his. Septima had said it was such a terrible thing to +be married. She had found it just the reverse, as she glanced +up into her pretty young husband’s face, as they walked home +together; and how well she remembered how Rex had taken +her in his arms at the gate, kissing her rosy, blushing face, +until she cried out for mercy.</p> +<p>A sudden, blinding flash of lightning lighted up the spot +with a lurid light, and she saw a little white cross, with white +daisies growing around it, and upon the cross, in that one +meteoric flash, she read the words, “Sacred to the memory of +Daisy Brooks.”</p> +<p>She did not faint, or cry out, or utter any word. She realized +all in an instant why Rex had been there. Perhaps he +felt some remorse for casting her off so cruelly. If some tender +regret for her, whom he supposed dead, was not stirring in +his heart, why was he there, kneeling before the little cross +which bore her name, on his wedding-night?</p> +<p>Could it be that he had ever loved her? She held out her +arms toward the blazing lights that shone in the distance from +Whitestone Hall, with a yearning, passionate cry. Surely, +hers was the saddest fate that had ever fallen to the lot of a +young girl.</p> +<p>A great thrill of joy filled her heart, that she was able to +prevent the marriage.</p> +<p>She arose from her knees and made her way swiftly through +the storm and the darkness, toward the distant cotton fields. +She did not wish to enter the Hall by the main gate; there was +a small path, seldom used, that led to the Hall, which she had +often taken from John Brooks’s cottage; that was the one she +chose to-night.</p> +<p>Although the storm raged in all its fury without, the interior +of Whitestone Hall was ablaze with light, that streamed with +a bright, golden glow from every casement.</p> +<p>Strains of music, mingled with the hum of voices, fell upon +Daisy’s ear, as she walked hurriedly up the path. The damp +air that swept across her face with the beating rain was odorous +with the perfume of rare exotics.</p> +<p>The path up which she walked commanded a full view of +Pluma Hurlhurst’s boudoir.</p> +<p>The crimson satin curtains, for some reason, were still +looped back, and she could see the trim little maid arranging +her long dark hair; she wore a silver-white dressing-robe, bordered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +around with soft white swan’s-down and her dainty white +satin-slippered feet rested on a crimson velvet hassock.</p> +<p>“How beautiful she is!” thought the poor little child-wife, +wistfully gazing at her fair, false enemy. “I can not wonder +Rex is dazzled by her peerless, royal beauty. I was mad to +indulge the fatal, foolish dream that he could ever love me, +poor, plain little Daisy Brooks.”</p> +<p>Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, and her thick veil +more securely over her face. As she raised the huge brass +knocker her heart beat pitifully, yet she told herself she must +be brave to the bitter end.</p> +<p>One, two, three minutes passed. Was no one coming to +answer the summons? Yes––some one came at last, a spruce +little French maid, whom Daisy never remembered having seen +before.</p> +<p>She laughed outright when Daisy falteringly stated her +errand.</p> +<p>“You are mad to think mademoiselle will see you to-night,” +she answered, contemptuously. “Do you not know this is +her wedding-night?”</p> +<p>“She is not married <i>yet</i>?” cried Daisy, in a low, wailing +voice. “Oh, I must see her!”</p> +<p>With a quizzical expression crossing her face the girl shrugged +her shoulders, as she scanned the little dark, dripping figure, +answering mockingly:</p> +<p>“The poor make one grand mistake, insisting on what the +rich must do. I say again, my lady will not see you––you had +better go about your business.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I <i>must</i> see her! indeed, I must!” pleaded Daisy. +“Your heart, dear girl, is human, and you can see my anguish +is no light one.”</p> +<p>Her courage and high resolve seemed to give way, and she +wept––as women weep only once in a lifetime––but the heart +of the French maid was obdurate.</p> +<p>“Mademoiselle would only be angry,” she said; “it would +be as much as my place is worth to even mention you to +her.”</p> +<p>“But my errand can brook no delay,” urged Daisy. “You +do not realize,” she gasped, brokenly, while her delicate frame +was shaken with sobs, and the hot tears fell like rain down +her face.</p> +<p>“All that you say is useless,” cried the girl, impatiently, as +she purposely obstructed the passage-way, holding the doorknob +in her hand; “all your speech is in vain––she will not +see you, I say––I will not take her your message.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span></div> +<p>“Then I will go to her myself,” cried Daisy, in desperate +determination.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, Marie?” cried a shrill voice from the +head of the rose-lighted stairway; “what in the world keeps +you down there so long? Come here instantly.”</p> +<p>Daisy knew too well the handsome, impatient face and the +imperious, commanding voice.</p> +<p>“Miss Hurlhurst,” she called out, piteously, “I must see +you for a few minutes. I shall die if you refuse me. My +errand is one of almost life and death; if you knew how vitally +important it was you would not refuse me,” she panted.</p> +<p>Pluma Hurlhurst laughed a little hard laugh that had no +music in it.</p> +<p>“What would a hundred lives or deaths matter to me?” she +said, contemptuously. “I would not listen to you ten minutes +to-night if I actually knew it was to save your life,” cried the +haughty beauty, stamping her slippered foot impatiently.</p> +<p>“It is for your own sake,” pleaded Daisy. “See, I kneel +to you, Miss Hurlhurst. If you would not commit a crime, I +implore you by all you hold sacred, to hear me––grant me but +a few brief moments.”</p> +<p>“Not an instant,” cried Pluma, scornfully; “shut the +door, Marie, and send that person from the house.”</p> +<p>“Oh, what shall I do!” cried Daisy, wringing her hands. +“I am driven to the very verge of madness! Heaven pity me––the +bitter consequence must fall upon your own head.”</p> +<p>She turned away with a low, bitter cry, as the maid slammed +the heavy oaken door in her face.</p> +<p>“There is no other way for me to do,” she told herself, +despairingly, “but to see Rex. I do not know how I am going +to live through the ordeal of entering his presence––listening +to his voice––knowing I bring him such a burden of woe––spoiling +his life for the second time.”</p> +<p>She did not hear the door quietly reopen.</p> +<p>“I have heard all that has just passed, young lady,” said a +kind voice close beside her. “I am extremely sorry for you––your +case seems a pitiful one. I am sorry my daughter refused +to see you; perhaps I can be of some assistance to you. +I am Miss Hurlhurst’s father.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXVII' id='CHAPTER_XXXVII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> +</div> +<p>For a moment Daisy stood irresolute. “Follow me into +my study, and tell me your trouble. You say it concerns my +daughter. Perhaps I can advise you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span></div> +<p>Ah, yes! he above all others could help her––he was Pluma’s +father––he could stop the fatal marriage. She would not be +obliged to face Rex.</p> +<p>Without another word Daisy turned and followed him. Although +Daisy had lived the greater portion of her life at John +Brooks’ cottage on the Hurlhurst plantation, this was the first +time she had ever gazed upon the face of the recluse master of +Whitestone Hall. He had spent those years abroad; and poor +Daisy’s banishment dated from the time the lawn fête had +been given in honor of their return.</p> +<p>Daisy glanced shyly up through her veil with a strange feeling +of awe at the noble face, with the deep lines of suffering +around the mouth, as he opened his study door, and, with a +stately inclination of the head, bade her enter.</p> +<p>“His face is not like Pluma’s,” she thought, with a strange +flutter at her heart. “He looks good and kind. I am sure I +can trust him.”</p> +<p>Daisy was quite confused as she took the seat he indicated. +Mr. Hurlhurst drew up his arm-chair opposite her, and waited +with the utmost patience for her to commence.</p> +<p>She arose and stood before him, clasping her trembling little +white hands together supplicatingly. He could not see her +face, for she stood in the shadow, and the room was dimly +lighted; but he knew that the sweet, pathetic voice was like +the sound of silvery bells chiming some half-forgotten strain.</p> +<p>“I have come to tell you this wedding can not––must not––go +on to-night!” she cried, excitedly.</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst certainly thought the young girl standing +before him must be mad.</p> +<p>“I do not understand,” he said, slowly, yet gently. “Why +do you, a stranger, come to me on my daughter’s wedding-night +with such words as these? What reason can you offer +why this marriage should not proceed?”</p> +<p>He could not tell whether she had heard his words or not, +she stood before him so silent, her little hands working nervously +together. She looked wistfully into his face, and she +drew her slender figure up to its full height, as she replied, in +a low, passionate, musical voice:</p> +<p>“Mr. Lyon can not marry your daughter, sir, for he has a +living wife.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Lyon has a wife?” repeated Basil Hurlhurst, literally +dumbfounded with amazement. “In Heaven’s name, explain +yourself!” he cried, rising hastily from his chair and facing +her.</p> +<p>The agitation on his face was almost alarming. His grand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +old face was as white as his linen. His eyes were full of +eager, painful suspense and excitement. With a violent effort +at self-control he restrained his emotions, sinking back in his +arm-chair like one who had received an unexpected blow.</p> +<p>Daisy never remembered in what words she told him the +startling truth. He never interrupted her until she had quite +finished.</p> +<p>“You will not blame Rex,” she pleaded, her sweet voice +choking with emotion; “he believes me dead.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst did not answer; his thoughts were too confused. +Yes, it was but too true––the marriage could not go +on. He reached hastily toward the bell-rope.</p> +<p>“You will not let my––Rex know until I am far away,” she +cried, piteously, as she put her marriage certificate in Mr. +Hurlhurst’s hand.</p> +<p>“I am going to send for Rex to come here at once,” he +made answer.</p> +<p>With a low, agonized moan, Daisy grasped his outstretched +hand, scarcely knowing what she did.</p> +<p>“Oh, please do not, Mr. Hurlhurst,” she sobbed. “Rex +must not see me; I should die if you sent for him; I could not +bear it––indeed, I could not.” She was looking at him, all +her heart in her eyes, and, as if he felt magnetically the power +of her glance, he turned toward her, meeting the earnest gaze +of the blue, uplifted eyes.</p> +<p>The light fell full upon her fair, flushed face, and the bonnet +and veil she wore had fallen back from the golden head.</p> +<p>A sudden mist seemed to come before his eyes, and he +caught his breath with a sharp gasp.</p> +<p>“What did you say your name was before you were married?” +he asked, in a low, intense voice. “I––I––did not +quite understand.”</p> +<p>“Daisy Brooks, your overseer’s niece,” she answered, simply.</p> +<p>She wondered why he uttered such a dreary sigh as he muttered, +half aloud, how foolish he was to catch at every straw +of hope.</p> +<p>Carefully he examined the certificate. It was too true. It +certainly certified Rexford Lyon and Daisy Brooks were joined +together in the bonds of matrimony nearly a year before. +And then he looked at the paper containing the notice of her +tragic death, which Daisy had read and carefully saved. +Surely no blame could be attached to Rex, in the face of these +proofs.</p> +<p>He was sorry for the beautiful, haughty heiress, to whom +this terrible news would be a great shock; he was sorry for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +Rex, he had grown so warmly attached to him of late, but he +felt still more sorry for the fair child-bride, toward whom he +felt such a yearning, sympathetic pity.</p> +<p>The great bell in the tower slowly pealed the hour of eight, +with a dull, heavy clang, and he suddenly realized what was to +be done must be done at once.</p> +<p>“I must send for both Rex and Pluma,” he said, laying his +hands on the beautiful, bowed head; “but, if it will comfort +you to be unobserved during the interview, you shall have +your wish.” He motioned her to one of the curtained recesses, +and placed her in an easy-chair. He saw she was trembling +violently.</p> +<p>It was a hard ordeal for him to go through, but there was +no alternative.</p> +<p>He touched the bell with a shaking hand, thrusting the +certificate and paper into his desk.</p> +<p>“Summon my daughter Pluma to me at once,” he said to +the servant who answered the summons, “and bid Mr. Lyon +come to me here within half an hour.”</p> +<p>He saw the man held a letter in his hand.</p> +<p>“If you please, sir,” said the man, “as I was coming to +answer your bell I met John Brooks, your overseer, in the hall +below. A stranger was with him, who requested me to give +you this without delay.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst broke open the seal. There were but a few +penciled words, which ran as follows:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class='smcap'>Mr. Hurlhurst,</span>––Will you kindly grant me an immediate +interview? I shall detain you but a few moments.</p> +<p class='ralign'>“Yours, hastily,<span class='rindent8'> </span><br /> +“<span class='smcap'>Harvey Tudor,</span><span class='rindent4'> </span><br /> +“Of Tudor, Peck & Co, Detectives, Baltimore.”<span class='rindent2'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>The man never forgot the cry that came from his master’s +lips as he read those brief words.</p> +<p>“Yes, tell him to come up at once,” he cried; “I will see +him here.”</p> +<p>He forgot the message he had sent for Pluma and Rex––forgot +the shrinking, timid little figure in the shadowy drapery +of the curtains––even the gay hum of the voices down below, +and the strains of music, or that the fatal marriage moment +was drawing near.</p> +<p>He was wondering if the detective’s visit brought him a +gleam of hope. Surely he could have no other object in calling +so hurriedly on this night above all other nights.</p> +<p>A decanter of wine always sat on the study table. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +turned toward it now with feverish impatience, poured out a +full glass with his nervous fingers, and drained it at a single +draught.</p> +<p>A moment later the detective and John Brooks, looking pale +and considerably excited, were ushered into the study.</p> +<p>For a single instant the master of Whitestone Hall glanced +into the detective’s keen gray eyes for one ray of hope, as he +silently grasped his extended hand.</p> +<p>“I see we are alone,” said Mr. Tudor, glancing hurriedly +around the room––“we three, I mean,” he added.</p> +<p>Suddenly Basil Hurlhurst thought of the young girl, quite +hidden from view.</p> +<p>“No,” he answered, leading the way toward an inner room, +separated from the study by a heavy silken curtain; “but in +this apartment we shall certainly be free from interruption. +Your face reveals nothing,” he continued, in an agitated voice, +“but I believe you have brought me news of my child.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst had no idea the conversation carried on in +the small apartment to which he had conducted them could +be overheard from the curtained recess in which Daisy sat. +But he was mistaken; Daisy could hear every word of it.</p> +<p>She dared not cry out or walk forth from her place of concealment +lest she should come suddenly face to face with Rex.</p> +<p>As the light had fallen on John Brooks’ honest face, how +she had longed to spring forward with a glad little cry and +throw herself into his strong, sheltering arms! She wondered +childishly why he was there with Mr. Tudor, the detective, +whose voice she had instantly recognized.</p> +<p>“I have two errands here to-night,” said the detective, +pleasantly. “I hope I shall bring good news, in one sense; +the other we will discuss later on.”</p> +<p>The master of Whitestone Hall made no comments; still he +wondered why the detective had used the words “one sense.” +Surely, he thought, turning pale, his long-lost child could not +be dead.</p> +<p>Like one in a dream, Daisy heard the detective go carefully +over the ground with Basil Hurlhurst––all the incidents connected +with the loss of his child. Daisy listened out of sheer +wonder. She could not tell why.</p> +<p>“I think we have the right clew,” continued the detective, +“but we have no actual proof to support our supposition; +there is one part still cloudy.”</p> +<p>There were a few low-murmured words spoken to John +Brooks. There was a moment of silence, broken by her uncle +John’s voice. For several moments he talked rapidly and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +earnestly, interrupted now and then by an exclamation of surprise +from the master of Whitestone Hall.</p> +<p>Every word John Brooks uttered pierced Daisy’s heart like +an arrow. She uttered a little, sharp cry, but no one heard +her. She fairly held her breath with intense interest. Then +she heard the detective tell them the story of Rex Lyon’s +marriage with her, and he had come to Whitestone Hall to +stop the ceremony about to be performed.</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst scarcely heeded his words. He had risen to +his feet with a great, glad cry, and pushed aside the silken +curtains that led to the study. As he did so he came face to +face with Daisy Brooks, standing motionless, like a statue, before +him. Then she fell, with a low, gasping cry, senseless at +Basil Hurlhurst’s feet.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXVIII' id='CHAPTER_XXXVIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> +</div> +<p>Pluma Hurlhurst received her father’s summons with no +little surprise. “What can that foolish old man want, I +wonder?” she soliloquized, clasping the diamond-studded +bracelets on her perfect arms. “I shall be heartily glad +when I am Rex Lyon’s wife. I shall soon tell him, then, in +pretty plain words, I am not at his beck and call any longer. +Come to him instantly, indeed! I shall certainly do no such +thing,” she muttered.</p> +<p>“Did you speak, mademoiselle?” asked the maid.</p> +<p>“No,” replied Pluma, glancing at the little jeweled watch +that glittered in its snow-white velvet case. She took it up +with a caressing movement. “How foolish I was to work +myself up into such a fury of excitement, when Rex sent for +me to present me with the jewels!” she laughed, softly, laying +down the watch, and taking up an exquisite jeweled necklace, +admired the purity and beauty of the soft, white, gleaming +stones.</p> +<p>The turret-bell had pealed the hour of eight; she had yet +half an hour.</p> +<p>She never could tell what impulse prompted her to clasp the +shining gems around her white throat, even before she had +removed her dressing-robe.</p> +<p>She leaned back dreamily in her cushioned chair, watching +the effect in the mirror opposite.</p> +<p>Steadfastly she gazed at the wondrous loveliness of the +picture she made, the dark, lustrous eyes, gleaming with unwonted +brilliancy, with their jetty fringe; the rich, red lips, +and glowing cheeks.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></div> +<p>“There are few such faces in the world,” she told herself +triumphantly.</p> +<p>Those were the happiest moments proud, peerless Pluma +Hurlhurst was ever to know––“before the hour should wane +the fruition of all her hopes would be attained.”</p> +<p>No feeling of remorse stole over her to imbitter the sweets +of her triumphant thoughts.</p> +<p>She had lived in a world of her own, planning and scheming, +wasting her youth, her beauty, and her genius, to accomplish +the one great ultimatum––winning Rex Lyon’s love.</p> +<p>She took from her bosom a tiny vial, containing a few white, +flaky crystals. “I shall not need this now,” she told herself. +“If Lester Stanwick had intended to interfere he would have +done so ere this; he has left me to myself, realizing his threats +were all in vain; yet I have been sore afraid. Rex will never +know that I lied and schemed to win his love, or that I +planned the removal of Daisy Brooks from his path so cleverly; +he will never know that I have deceived him, or the +wretched story of my folly and passionate, perilous love. I +could not have borne the shame and the exposure; there +would have been but one escape”––quite unconsciously she slid +the vial into the pocket of her silken robe––“I have lived a +coward’s life; I should have died a coward’s death.”</p> +<p>“It is time to commence arranging your toilet, mademoiselle,” +said the maid, approaching her softly with the white +glimmering satin robe, and fleecy veil over her arm. “My +fingers are deft, but you have not one moment to spare.”</p> +<p>Pluma waved her off with an imperious gesture.</p> +<p>“Not yet,” she said. “I suppose I might as well go down +first as last to see what in the world he wants with me; he +should have come to me if he had wished to see me so very +particularly;” and the dutiful daughter, throwing the train of +her dress carelessly over her arm, walked swiftly through the +brilliantly lighted corridor toward Basil Hurlhurst’s study. +She turned the knob and entered. The room was apparently +deserted. “Not here!” she muttered, with surprise. “Well, +my dear, capricious father, I shall go straight back to my +apartments. You shall come to me hereafter.” As she +turned to retrace her steps a hand was laid upon her shoulder, +and a woman’s voice whispered close to her ear:</p> +<p>“I was almost afraid I should miss you––fate is kind.”</p> +<p>Pluma Hurlhurst recoiled from the touch, fairly holding +her breath, speechless with fury and astonishment.</p> +<p>“You insolent creature!” she cried. “I wonder at your +boldness in forcing your presence upon me. Did I not have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +you thrust from the house an hour ago, with the full understanding +I would not see you, no matter who you were or +whom you wanted.”</p> +<p>“I was not at the door an hour ago,” replied the woman, +coolly; “it must have been some one else. I have been here––to +Whitestone Hall––several times before, but you have always +eluded me. You shall not do so to-night. You shall +listen to what I have come to say to you.”</p> +<p>For once in her life the haughty, willful heiress was completely +taken aback, and she sunk into the arm-chair so lately +occupied by Basil Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>“I shall ring for the servants, and have you thrown from +the house; such impudence is unheard of, you miserable +creature!”</p> +<p>She made a movement toward the bell-rope, but the woman +hastily thrust her back into her seat, crossed over, turned the +key in the lock, and hastily removed it. Basil Hurlhurst and +John Brooks were about to rush to her assistance, but the detective +suddenly thrust them back, holding up his hand +warningly.</p> +<p>“Not yet,” he whispered; “we will wait until we know +what this strange affair means. I shall request you both to +remain perfectly quiet until by word or signal I advise you to +act differently.”</p> +<p>And, breathless with interest, the three, divided only by the +silken hanging curtains, awaited eagerly further developments +of the strange scene being enacted before them.</p> +<p>Pluma’s eyes flashed like ebony fires, and unrestrained +passion was written on every feature of her face, as the woman +took her position directly in front of her with folded arms, +and dark eyes gleaming quite as strangely as her own. Pluma, +through sheer astonishment at her peculiar, deliberate manner, +was hushed into strange expectancy.</p> +<p>For some moments the woman gazed into her face, coolly––deliberately––her +eyes fastening themselves on the diamond +necklace which clasped her throat, quivering with a thousand +gleaming lights.</p> +<p>“You are well cared for,” she said, with a harsh, grating +laugh, that vibrated strangely on the girl’s ear. “You have +the good things of life, while I have only the hardships. I am +a fool to endure it. I have come to you to-night to help me––and +you must do it.”</p> +<p>“Put the key in that door instantly, or I shall cry out for +assistance. I have heard of insolence of beggars, but certainly +this is beyond all imagination. How dare you force your obnoxious +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +presence upon me? I will not listen to another word; +you shall suffer for this outrage, woman! Open the door instantly, +I say.”</p> +<p>She did not proceed any further in her breathless defiance +of retort; the woman coolly interrupted her with that strange, +grating laugh again, as she answered, authoritatively:</p> +<p>“I shall not play at cross-purposes with you any longer; it +is plainly evident there is little affection lost between us. You +will do exactly as I say, Pluma; you may spare yourself a +great deal that may be unpleasant––if you not only listen but +quietly obey me. Otherwise––”</p> +<p>Pluma sprung wildly to her feet.</p> +<p>“Obey you! obey you!”</p> +<p>She would have screamed the words in her ungovernable +rage, had not a look from this woman’s eyes, who used her +name with such ill-bred familiarity, actually frightened her.</p> +<p>“Be sensible and listen to what I intend you shall hear, +and, as I said and repeat, obey. You have made a slight mistake +in defying me, young lady. I hoped and intended to be +your friend and adviser; but since you have taken it into your +head to show such an aversion to me, it will be so much the +worse for you, for I fully intend you shall act hereafter under +my instructions; it has spoiled you allowing you to hold the +reins in your own hands unchecked.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you horrible creature! I shall have you arrested +and––”</p> +<p>The woman interrupted her gasping, vindictive words again, +more imperiously than before.</p> +<p>“Hush! not another word; you will not tell any one a +syllable of what has passed in this room.”</p> +<p>“Do you dare threaten me in my own house,” cried Pluma, +fairly beside herself with passion. “I begin to believe you are +not aware to whom you are speaking. You shall not force me +to listen. I shall raise the window and cry out to the guests +below.”</p> +<p>“Very well, then. I find I am compelled to tell you something +I never intended you should know––something that, unless +I am greatly mistaken in my estimate of you, will change +your high and mighty notions altogether.”</p> +<p>The woman was bending so near her, her breath almost +scorched her cheek.</p> +<p>“I want money,” she said, her thin lips quivering in an +evil smile, “and it is but right that you should supply me +with it. Look at the diamonds, representing a fortune, gleaming +on your throat, while I am lacking the necessaries of life.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></div> +<p>“What is that to me?” cried Pluma, scornfully. “Allow +me to pass from the room, and I will send my maid back to +you with a twenty-dollar note. My moments are precious; do +not detain me.”</p> +<p>The woman laughed contemptuously.</p> +<p>“Twenty dollars, indeed!” she sneered, mockingly. +“Twenty thousand will not answer my purpose. From this +time forth I intend to live as befits a lady. I want that necklace +you are wearing, as security that you will produce the required +sum for me before to-morrow night.”</p> +<p>The coarse proposal amazed Pluma.</p> +<p>“I thought Whitestone Hall especially guarded against +thieves,” she said, steadily. “You seem to be a desperate +woman; but I, Pluma Hurlhurst, do not fear you. We will +pass over the remarks you have just uttered as simply beyond +discussion.”</p> +<p>With a swift, gliding motion she attempted to reach the +bell-rope. Again the woman intercepted her.</p> +<p>“Arouse the household if you dare!” hissed the woman, +tightening her hold upon the white arm upon which the jewels +flashed and quivered. “If Basil Hurlhurst knew what I know +you would be driven from this house before an hour had +passed.”</p> +<p>“I––I––do not know what you mean,” gasped Pluma, her +great courage and fortitude sinking before this woman’s fearlessness +and defiant authority.</p> +<p>“No, you don’t know what I mean; and little you thank +me for carrying the treacherous secret since almost the hour of +your birth. It is time for you to know the truth at last. You +are not the heiress of Whitestone Hall––you are not Basil +Hurlhurst’s child!”</p> +<p>Pluma’s face grew deathly white; a strange mist seemed +gathering before her.</p> +<p>“I can not––seem––to––grasp––what you mean, or who you +are to terrify me so.”</p> +<p>A mocking smile played about the woman’s lips as she replied, +in a slow, even, distinct voice:</p> +<p>“I am your mother, Pluma!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXIX' id='CHAPTER_XXXIX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> +</div> +<p>At the self-same moment that the scene just described was +being enacted in the study Rex Lyon was pacing to and fro in +his room, waiting for the summons of Pluma to join the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +bridal-party in the corridor and adjourn to the parlors below, +where the guests and the minister awaited them.</p> +<p>He walked toward the window and drew aside the heavy +curtains. The storm was beating against the window-pane as +he leaned his feverish face against the cool glass, gazing out +into the impenetrable darkness without.</p> +<p>Try as he would to feel reconciled to his marriage he could +not do it. How could he promise at the altar to love, honor, +and cherish the wife whom he was about to wed?</p> +<p>He might honor and cherish her, but love her he could not, +no matter for all the promises he might make. The power of +loving was directed from Heaven above––it was not for mortals +to accept or reject at will.</p> +<p>His heart seemed to cling with a strange restlessness to +Daisy, the fair little child-bride, whom he had loved so passionately––his +first and only love, sweet little Daisy!</p> +<p>From the breast-pocket of his coat he took the cluster of +daisies he had gone through the storm on his wedding-night +to gather. He was waiting until the monument should arrive +before he could gather courage to tell Pluma the sorrowful +story of his love-dream.</p> +<p>All at once he remembered the letter a stranger had handed +him outside of the entrance gate. He had not thought much +about the matter until now. Mechanically he picked it up +from the mantel, where he had tossed it upon entering the +room, glancing carelessly at the superscription. His countenance +changed when he saw it; his lips trembled, and a hard, +bitter light crept into his brown eyes. He remembered the +chirography but too well.</p> +<p>“From Stanwick!” he cried, leaning heavily against the +mantel.</p> +<p>Rex read the letter through with a burning flush on his +face, which grew white as with the pallor of death as he read; +a dark mist was before his eyes, the sound of surging waters in +his ears.</p> +<p>“<span class='smcap'>Old College Chum,</span>”––it began,––“For the sake of +those happy hours of our school-days, you will please favor me +by reading what I have written to the end.</p> +<p>“If you love Pluma Hurlhurst better than your sense of +honor this letter is of no avail. I can not see you drifting on +to ruin without longing to save you. You have been cleverly +caught in the net the scheming heiress has set for you. It is +certainly evident she loves you with a love which is certainly a +perilous one. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +There is not much safety in the fierce, passionate love of +a desperate, jealous woman. You will pardon me for believing +at one time your heart was elsewhere. You will wonder +why I refer to that; it will surprise you to learn, that one +subject forms the basis of this letter. I refer to little Daisy +Brooks.</p> +<p>“You remember the night you saw little Daisy home, burning +with indignation at the cut direct––which Pluma had subjected +the pretty little fairy to? I simply recall that fact, as +upon that event hangs the terrible sequel which I free my conscience +by unfolding. You had scarcely left the Hall ere Pluma +called me to her side.</p> +<p>“‘Do not leave me, Lester,’ she said; ‘I want to see you; +remain until after all the guests have left.’</p> +<p>“I did so. You have read the lines:</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“‘Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,<br /> +Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned’?</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“They were too truly exemplified in the case of Pluma +Hurlhurst when she found you preferred little golden-haired +Daisy Brooks to her own peerless self. ‘What shall I do, +Lester,’ she cried, ‘to strike his heart? What shall I do to +humble his mighty pride as he has humbled mine?’ Heaven +knows, old boy, I am ashamed to admit the shameful truth. +I rather enjoyed the situation of affairs. ‘My love is turned +to hate!’ she cried, vehemently. ‘I must strike him through +his love for that little pink-and-white baby-faced creature he +is so madly infatuated with. Remove her from his path, +Lester,’ she cried, ‘and I shall make it worth your while. +You asked me once if I would marry you. I answer <i>now</i>: +remove that girl from his path, by fair means or foul, and I +give you my hand as the reward, I, the heiress of Whitestone +Hall.’</p> +<p>“She knew the temptation was dazzling. For long hours +we talked the matter over. She was to furnish money to send +the girl to school, from which I was shortly to abduct her. +She little cared what happened the little fair-haired creature. +Before I had time to carry out the design fate drifted her into +my hands. I rescued her, at the risk of my own life, from a +watery grave. I gave out she was my wife, that the affair +might reach your ears, and you would believe the child willfully +eloped with me. I swear to you no impure thought +ever crossed that child’s brain. I gave her a very satisfactory +explanation as to why I had started so false a report. In her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +innocence––it seemed plausible––she did not contradict my +words.</p> +<p>“Then you came upon the scene, charging her with the report +and demanding to know the truth.</p> +<p>“At that moment she saw the affair in its true light. +Heaven knows she was as pure as a spotless lily; but appearances +were sadly against the child, simply because she had not +contradicted the report that I had circulated––that she was +my wife. Her lips were dumb at the mere suspicion you +hurled against her, and she could not plead with you for very +horror and amazement.</p> +<p>“When you left her she was stricken with a fever that was +said to have cost her her life. She disappeared from sight, +and it was said she had thrown herself into the pit.</p> +<p>“I give you this last and final statement in all truth. I +was haunted day and night by her sad, pitiful face; it almost +drove me mad with remorse, and to ease my mind I had the +shaft searched a week ago, and learned the startling fact––it +revealed no trace of her ever having been there.</p> +<p>“The shaft does not contain the remains of Daisy Brooks, +and I solemnly affirm (although I have no clew to substantiate +the belief) that Daisy Brooks is not dead, but living, and +Pluma Hurlhurst’s soul is not dyed with the blood which she +would not have hesitated to shed to remove an innocent rival +from her path. I do not hold myself guiltless, still the planner +of a crime is far more guilty than the tool who does the work +in hope of reward.</p> +<p>“The heiress of Whitestone Hall has played me false, take +to your heart your fair, blushing bride, but remember hers is +a perilous love.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The letter contained much more, explaining each incident +in detail, but Rex had caught at one hope, as a drowning man +catches at a straw.</p> +<p>“Merciful Heaven!” he cried, his heart beating loud and +fast. “Was it not a cruel jest to frighten him on his wedding-eve? +Daisy alive! Oh, just Heaven, if it could only be +true!” He drew his breath, with a long, quivering sigh, at +the bare possibility. “Little Daisy was as pure in thought, +word and deed as an angel. God pity me!” he cried. “Have +patience with me for my harshness toward my little love. I +did not give my little love even the chance of explaining the +situation,” he groaned. Then his thoughts went back to +Pluma.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></div> +<p>He could not doubt the truth of the statement Stanwick +offered, and the absolute proofs of its sincerity. He could not +curse her for her horrible deceit, because his mother had loved +her so, and it was done through her blinding, passionate love +for him; and he buried his face in his hands, and wept bitterly. +It was all clear as noonday to him now why Daisy had not kept +the tryst under the magnolia-tree, and the cottage was empty. +She must certainly have attempted to make her escape from +the school in which they placed her to come back to his arms.</p> +<p>“Oh, dupe that I have been!” he moaned. “Oh, my sweet +little innocent darling!” he cried. “I dare not hope Heaven +has spared you to me!”</p> +<p>Now he understood why he had felt such a terrible aversion +to Pluma all along. She had separated him from his beautiful, +golden-haired child-bride.</p> +<p>His eyes rested on the certificate which bore Pluma’s name, +also his own. He tore it into a thousand shreds.</p> +<p>“It is all over between us now,” he cried. “Even if Daisy +were dead, I could never take the viper to my bosom that has +dealt me such a death-stinging blow. If living, I shall search +the world over till I find her; if dead, I shall consecrate my +life to the memory of my darling, my pure, little, injured <i>only</i> +love.”</p> +<p>He heard a low rap at the door. The servant never forgot +the young man’s haggard, hopeless face as he delivered Basil +Hurlhurst’s message.</p> +<p>“Ah, it is better so,” cried Rex to himself, vehemently, as +the man silently and wonderingly closed the door. “I will go +to him at once, and tell him I shall never marry his daughter. +Heaven help me! I will tell him all.”</p> +<p>Hastily catching up the letter, Rex walked, with a firm, +quick tread, toward the study, in which the strangest tragedy +which was ever enacted was about to transpire.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“I am your mother, Pluma,” repeated the woman, slowly. +“Look into my face, and you will see every lineament of your +own mirrored there. But for me you would never have enjoyed +the luxuries of Whitestone Hall, and this is the way you +repay me! Is there no natural instinct in your heart that tells +you you are standing in your mother’s presence?”</p> +<p>“Every instinct in my heart tells me you are a vile impostor, +woman. I wonder that you dare intimate such a thing. You +are certainly an escaped lunatic. My mother was lost at sea +long years ago.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span></div> +<p>“So every one believed. But my very presence here is proof +positive such was not the case.”</p> +<p>Pluma tried to speak, but no sound issued from her white +lips. The very tone of the woman’s voice carried positive conviction +with it. A dim realization was stealing over her that +this woman’s face, and the peculiar tone of her voice, were +strangely mixed up with her childhood dreams; and, try as she +would to scoff at the idea, it seemed to be gaining strength +with every moment.</p> +<p>“You do not believe me, I see,” pursued the woman, calmly. +“There is nothing but the stern facts that will satisfy +you. You shall have them. They are soon told: Years ago, +when I was young and fair as you are now, I lived at the home +of a quiet, well-to-do spinster, Taiza Burt. She had a nephew, +an honest, well-to-do young fellow, who worshiped me, much +to the chagrin of his aunt; and out of pique one day I married +him. I did not love the honest-hearted fellow, and I lived +with him but a few brief months. I hated him––yes, hated +him, for I had seen another––young, gay and handsome––whom +I might have won had it not been for the chains which +bound me. He was a handsome, debonair college fellow, as +rich as he was handsome. This was Basil Hurlhurst, the +planter’s only son and heir. Our meeting was romantic. I +had driven over to the village in which the college was situated, +on an errand for Taiza. Basil met me driving through +the park. He was young, reckless and impulsive. He loved +me, and the knowledge of his wealth dazzled me. I did not +tell him I was a wife, and there commenced my first sin. My +extreme youth and ignorance of the world must plead for me––my +husband or the world would never know of it. I listened +to his pleading, and married him––that is, we went through +the ceremony. He had perfect faith in its sincerity. I alone +knew the guilty truth. Yet enormous as was my crime, I had +but a dim realization of it.</p> +<p>“For one brief week I was dazzled with the wealth and +jewels he lavished upon me; but my conscience would not let +me rest when I thought of my honest-hearted husband, from +whom I had fled and whom I had so cruelly deceived.</p> +<p>“My love for Basil was short lived; I was too reckless to +care much for any one. My conscience bade me fly from him. +I gathered up what money and jewels I could, and fled. A +few months after you were born; and I swear to you, by the +proofs I can bring you, beyond all shadow of a doubt, you +were my lawful husband’s child, not Basil’s.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span></div> +<p>“Soon after this event a daring thought came to me. I +could present you, ere long, with myself, at Whitestone Hall. +Basil Hurlhurst would never know the deception practiced +upon him; and you, the child of humble parentage, should +enjoy and inherit his vast wealth. My bold plan was successful. +We had a stormy interview, and it never occurred to him +there could be the least deception––that I was not his lawful +wife, or you his child.</p> +<p>“I found Basil had learned to despise even more fiercely +than he had ever loved me.</p> +<p>“He took us abroad, refusing to speak or look upon my +face, even though he escorted us. In a fit of desperation I +threw myself into the sea, but I was rescued by another vessel. +A strong inclination seized me to again visit Whitestone Hall +and see what disposition he had made of you. Years had +passed; you were then a child of five years.</p> +<p>“One terrible stormy night––as bad a night as this one––I +made my way to the Hall. It was brilliantly lighted up, just +as it is to-night.</p> +<p>“I saw the gate was locked; and through the flashes of +lightning I saw a little girl sobbing wildly, flung face downward +in the grass, heedless of the storm.</p> +<p>“I knew you, and called you to me. I questioned you as +to why the house was lighted, and learned the truth. Basil +Hurlhurst had remarried; he had been abroad with his wife, +and to-night he was bringing home his young wife.</p> +<p>“My rage knew no bounds. I commanded you to bring +me the key of the gate. You obeyed. That night a little +golden-haired child was born at Whitestone Hall, and I knew +it would live to divide the honors and wealth of Whitestone +Hall with you––my child.</p> +<p>“The thought maddened me. I stole the child from its +mother’s arms, and fled. I expected to see the papers full of +the terrible deed, or to hear you had betrayed me, a stranger, +wanting the key of the gate.”</p> +<p>“My surprise knew no bounds when I found it was given +out the child had died, and was buried with its young mother. +I never understood why Basil Hurlhurst did not attempt to recover +his child.</p> +<p>“I took the child far from here, placing it in a basket on +the river brink, with a note pinned to it saying that I, the +mother, had sinned and had sought a watery grave beneath the +waves. I screened myself, and watched to see what would become +of the child, as I saw a man’s form approaching in the distance.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div> +<p>“I fairly caught my breath as he drew near. I saw it was +my own husband, whom I had so cruelly deserted years ago––your +father, Pluma, who never even knew or dreamed of your +existence.</p> +<p>“Carefully he lifted the basket and the sleeping babe. +How he came in that locality I do not know. I found, by +some strange freak of fate, he had taken the child home to his +aunt Taiza, and there the little one remained until the spinster +died.</p> +<p>“Again, a few years later, I determined to visit Whitestone +Hall, when a startling and unexpected surprise presented itself. +Since then I have believed in fate. All unconscious of the +strange manner in which these two men’s lives had crossed +each other, I found Basil Hurlhurst had engaged my own husband, +and your father, John Brooks, for his overseer.”</p> +<p>Pluma gave a terrible cry, but the woman did not heed her.</p> +<p>“I dared not betray my identity then, but fled quickly from +Whitestone Hall; for I knew, if all came to light, it would be +proved without a doubt you were not the heiress of Whitestone +Hall.</p> +<p>“I saw a young girl, blue-eyed and golden-haired, singing +like a lark in the fields. One glance at her face, and I knew +she was Basil Hurlhurst’s stolen child fate had brought directly +to her father’s home. I questioned her, and she answered +she had lived with Taiza Burt, but her name was Daisy +Brooks.”</p> +<p>“It is a lie––a base, ingenious lie!” shrieked Pluma. +“Daisy Brooks the heiress of Whitestone Hall! Even if it +were true,” she cried, exultingly, “she will never reign here, +the mistress of Whitestone Hall. She is dead.”</p> +<p>“Not exactly!” cried a ringing voice from the rear; and +before the two women could comprehend the situation, the detective +sprung through the silken curtains, placing his back +firmly against the door. “You have laid a deep scheme, with +a cruel vengeance; but your own weapons are turned against +you. Bring your daughter forward, Mr. Hurlhurst. Your +presence is also needed, Mr. Brooks,” he called.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XL' id='CHAPTER_XL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XL.</h2> +</div> +<p>Not a muscle of Pluma Hurlhurst’s face quivered, but the +woman uttered a low cry, shrinking close to her side.</p> +<p>“Save me, Pluma!” she gasped. “I did it for your sake!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></div> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst slowly put back the curtain, and stepped +into the room, clasping his long-lost daughter to his breast. +Daisy’s arms were clinging round his neck, and her golden +head rested on his shoulder. She was sobbing hysterically, +John Brooks, deeply affected, following after.</p> +<p>Like a stag at bay, the woman’s courage seemed to return +to her, as she stood face to face after all those years with the +husband whom she had so cruelly deceived––and the proud-faced +man who stood beside him––whose life she had blighted +with the keenest and most cruel blow of all.</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst was the first to break the ominous silence.</p> +<p>“It is unnecessary to tell you we have heard all,” he said, +slowly. “I shall not seek redress for your double crime. +Leave this locality at once, or I may repent the leniency of my +decision. I hold you guiltless, Pluma,” he added, gently. +“You are not my child, yet I have not been wanting in +kindness toward you. I shall make every provision for your +future comfort with your father,” he said, indicating John +Brooks, who stood pale and trembling at his side.</p> +<p>“Pluma, my child,” cried John Brooks, brokenly, extending +his arms.</p> +<p>But the scornful laugh that fell from her lips froze the +blood in his veins.</p> +<p>“Your child!” she shrieked, mockingly; “do not dare call +me that again. What care I for your cotton fields, or for +Whitestone Hall?” she cried, proudly, drawing herself up to +her full height. “You have always hated me, Basil Hurlhurst,” +she cried, turning haughtily toward him. “This is +your triumph! Within the next hour I shall be Rex Lyon’s +wife.”</p> +<p>She repeated the words with a clear, ringing laugh, her +flaming eyes fairly scorching poor little Daisy’s pale, frightened +face.</p> +<p>“Do you hear me, Daisy Brooks!” she screamed. “You +loved Rex Lyon, and I have won him from you. You can +queen it over Whitestone Hall, but I shall not care. I shall +be queen of Rex’s heart and home! Mine is a glorious revenge!”</p> +<p>She stopped short for want of breath, and Basil Hurlhurst +interrupted her.</p> +<p>“I have to inform you you are quite mistaken there,” he +replied, calmly. “Mr. Rexford Lyon will not marry you to-night, +for he is already married to my little daughter Daisy.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +He produced the certificate as he spoke, laying it on the table. +“Rex thought her dead,” he continued, simply. “I have +sent for him to break the startling news of Daisy’s presence, +and I expect him here every moment.”</p> +<p>“Pluma,” cried Daisy, unclasping her arms from her +father’s neck, and swiftly crossing over to where her rival +stood, beautifully, proudly defiant, “forgive me for the pain +I have caused you unknowingly. I did not dream I was––an––an––heiress––or +that Mr. Hurlhurst was my father. I don’t +want you to go away, Pluma, from the luxury that has been +yours; stay and be my sister––share my home.”</p> +<p>“My little tender-hearted angel!” cried Basil Hurlhurst, +moved to tears.</p> +<p>John Brooks hid his face in his hands.</p> +<p>For a single instant the eyes of these two girls met––whose +lives had crossed each other so strangely––Daisy’s blue eyes +soft, tender and appealing, Pluma’s hard, flashing, bitter +and scornful.</p> +<p>She drew herself up to her full height.</p> +<p>“Remain in your house?” she cried, haughtily, trembling +with rage. “You mistake me, girl: do you think I could see +you enjoying the home that I have believed to be mine––see +the man I love better than life itself lavish caresses upon you––kiss +your lips––and bear it calmly? Live the life of a pauper +when I have been led to believe I was an heiress! Better had +I never known wealth than be cast from luxury into the slums +of poverty,” she wailed out, sharply. “I shall not touch a +dollar of your money, Basil Hurlhurst. I despise you too +much. I have lived with the trappings of wealth around me––the +petted child of luxury––all in vain––all in vain.”</p> +<p>Basil Hurlhurst was struck with the terrible grandeur of the +picture she made, standing there in her magnificent, scornful +pride––a wealth of jewels flashing on her throat and breast +and twined in the long, sweeping hair that had become loosened +and swept in a dark, shining mass to her slender waist, her +flashing eyes far outshining the jewels upon which the softened +gas-light streamed. Not one gleam of remorse softened her +stony face in its cruel, wicked beauty. Her jeweled hand +suddenly crept to the pocket of her dress where she had placed +the vial.</p> +<p>“Open that door!” she commanded.</p> +<p>The key fell from her mother’s nerveless grasp. The detective +quietly picked it up, placed it in the lock, and opened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +the door. And just at that instant, Rex Lyon, with the letter +in his hand, reached it.</p> +<p>Pluma saw him first.</p> +<p>“Rex!” she cried, in a low, hoarse voice, staggering toward +him; but he recoiled from her, and she saw Stanwick’s letter +in his hands; and she knew in an instant all her treachery was +revealed; and without another word––pale as death––but with +head proudly erect, she swept with the dignity of a princess +from the scene of her bitter defeat, closely followed by her +cowering mother.</p> +<p>Rex did not seek to detain her; his eyes had suddenly fallen +upon the golden-haired little figure kneeling by Basil Hurlhurst’s +chair.</p> +<p>He reached her side at a single bound.</p> +<p>“Oh, Daisy, my darling, my darling!” he cried, snatching +her in his arms, and straining her to his breast, as he murmured +passionate, endearing words over her.</p> +<p>Suddenly he turned to Mr. Hurlhurst.</p> +<p>“I must explain––”</p> +<p>“That is quite unnecessary, Rex, my boy,” said Mr. Tudor, +stepping forward with tears in his eyes; “Mr. Hurlhurst +knows all.”</p> +<p>It never occurred to handsome, impulsive Rex to question +what Daisy was doing there. He only knew Heaven had restored +him his beautiful, idolized child-bride.</p> +<p>“You will forgive my harshness, won’t you, love?” he +pleaded. “I will devote my whole life to blot out the past. +Can you learn to love me, sweetheart, and forget the cloud +that drifted between us?”</p> +<p>A rosy flush suffused the beautiful flower-like face, as Daisy +shyly lifted her radiantly love-lighted blue eyes to his face +with a coy glance that fairly took his breath away for rapturous +ecstasy.</p> +<p>Daisy’s golden head nestled closer on his breast, and two little +soft, white arms, whose touch thrilled him through and through, +stole round his neck––that was all the answer she made him.</p> +<p>John Brooks had quietly withdrawn from the room; and +while Basil Hurlhurst with a proudly glowing face went down +among the waiting and expectant guests to unfold to them the +marvelous story, and explain why the marriage could not take +place, the detective briefly acquainted Rex with the wonderful +story.</p> +<p>“I sought and won you when you were simple little Daisy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +Brooks, and now that you are a wealthy heiress in your own +right, you must not love me less.”</p> +<p>Daisy glanced up into her handsome young husband’s face +as she whispered, softly:</p> +<p>“Nothing can ever change my love, Rex, unless it is to love +you more and more.”</p> +<p>And for answer Rex clasped the little fairy still closer in +his arms, kissing the rosy mouth over and over again, as he +laughingly replied he was more fortunate than most fellows, +being lover and husband all in one.</p> +<p>The announcement created an intense <i>furor</i> among the fluttering +maidens down in the spacious parlors. Nobody regretted +Pluma’s downfall, although Basil Hurlhurst carefully +kept that part of the narrative back.</p> +<p>“Oh, it is just like a romance,” cried Eve Glenn, rapturously; +“but still we must not be disappointed, girls; we must +have a wedding all the same. Rex and Daisy must be married +over again.”</p> +<p>Every one was on the tiptoe of expectancy to see the beautiful +little heroine of a double romance.</p> +<p>Eve Glenn, followed by Birdie, found her out at once in the +study.</p> +<p>“Oh, you darling!” cried Eve, laughing and crying in one +breath, as she hugged and kissed Daisy rapturously; “and +just to think you were married all the time, and to Rex, too; +above all other fellows in the world, he was just the one I had +picked out for you.”</p> +<p>Rex was loath to let Daisy leave him even for a moment. +Eve was firm.</p> +<p>“I shall take her to my room and convert her in no time at +all into a veritable Cinderella.”</p> +<p>“She is the pretty young girl that carried me from the stone +wall, and I have loved her so much ever since, even if I +couldn’t remember her name,” cried Birdie, clapping her +hands in the greatest glee.</p> +<p>In the din of the excitement, Pluma Hurlhurst shook the +dust of Whitestone Hall forever from her feet, muttering +maledictions at the happy occupants. She had taken good +care to secure all the valuables that she could lay her hands +on, which were quite a fortune in themselves, securing her +from want for life. She was never heard from more.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Eve Glenn took Daisy to her own room, and there the wonderful +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +transformation began. She dressed Daisy in her own +white satin dress, and twined deep crimson passion-roses in +the golden curls, clapping her hands––at Daisy’s wondrous +beauty––kissing her, and petting her by turns.</p> +<p>“There never was such a little fairy of a bride!” she cried, +exultantly leading Daisy to the mirror. “True, you haven’t +any diamonds, and I haven’t any to loan you; but who would +miss such trifles, gazing at such a bewitching, blushing face +and eyes bright as stars? Oh, won’t every one envy Rex, though!”</p> +<p>“Please don’t, Eve,” cried Daisy. “I’m so happy, and +you are trying to make me vain.”</p> +<p>A few moments later there was a great hush in the vast parlors +below, as Daisy entered the room, leaning tremblingly on +Rex’s arm, who looked as happy as a king, and Basil Hurlhurst, +looking fully ten years younger than was his wont, +walking proudly beside his long-lost daughter.</p> +<p>The storm had died away, and the moon broke through the +dark clouds, lighting the earth with a silvery radiance, as Rex +and Daisy took their places before the altar, where the ceremony +which made them man and wife was for the second time +performed.</p> +<p>Heaven’s light never fell on two such supremely happy mortals +as were Rex and his bonny blushing bride.</p> +<p>Outside of Whitestone Hall a motley throng was gathering +with the rapidity of lightning––the story had gone from lip to +lip––the wonderful story of the long-lost heiress and the double +romance.</p> +<p>Cheer after cheer rent the air, and telegraph wires were +busy with the startling revelations.</p> +<p>The throng around the Hall pressed forward to catch a +glimpse of the pretty little bride. Young girls laughed and +cried for very joy. Mothers, fathers, and sweethearts fervently +cried: “God bless her!”</p> +<p>All night long the bells rang from the church belfries, bonfires +were lighted on all the surrounding hills. A telegram was +sent to a Baltimore marble firm countermanding a certain order.</p> +<p>All night long the young people danced to the chime of +merry music, and all night long the joy-bells pealed from the +turrets of Whitestone Hall, and they seemed to echo the +chorus of the people. “God bless sweet little Daisy Lyon, the +long-lost heiress of Whitestone Hall!”</p> +<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em'>THE END</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad1.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad2.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad3.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad4.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad5.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad6.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad7.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad8.jpg' /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY BROOKS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 30137-h.txt or 30137-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/1/3/30137">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/1/3/30137</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Daisy Brooks + A Perilous Love + + +Author: Laura Jean Libbey + + + +Release Date: September 30, 2009 [eBook #30137] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY BROOKS*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +DAISY BROOKS; + +Or, + +A Perilous Love. + +by + +LAURA JEAN LIBBEY, + +Author of + +"Parted on Her Bridal Tour," or "Miss Middleton's Lover," +"When His Love Grew Cold," "He Loved, But Was Lured Away," +"When Lovely Maiden Stoops to Folly," "The Crime of Hallow E'en," +"Lovers Once, But Strangers Now," Etc., Etc. + + + + + + + +Copyright 1883, by George Munro. +Copyright 1911, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company. +Dramatic Rights Reserved by Laura Jean Libbey-Stillwell. + +New York: +J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company, +57 Rose Street. + + + + +DAISY BROOKS. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +A warm day in the southern part of West Virginia was fast drawing to a +close; the heat during the day had been almost intolerable under the +rays of the piercing sun, and the night was coming on in sullen +sultriness. No breath of cooling air stirred the leafy branches of the +trees; the stillness was broken only by the chirping of the crickets, +and the fire-flies twinkled for a moment, and were then lost to sight +in the long grasses. + +On one of the most prosperous plantations in that section of the +country there was a great stir of excitement; the master, Basil +Hurlhurst, was momentarily expected home with his bride. The negroes +in their best attire were scattered in anxious groups here and there, +watching eagerly for the first approach of their master's carriage on +the white pebbled road. + +The curtains of Whitestone Hall were looped back, and a cheerful flood +of light shone out on the waving cotton fields that stretched out as +far as the eye could reach, like a field of snow. The last touches had +been given to the pillars of roses that filled every available nook +and corner, making the summer air redolent with their odorous +perfumes. Mrs. Corliss, who had maintained the position of housekeeper +for a score of years or more, stood at the window twisting the +telegram she held in her hand with ill-concealed impatience. The +announcement of this home-coming had been as unexpected as the news of +his marriage had been quite a year before. + +"Let there be no guests assembled--my reasons will be made apparent to +you later on," so read the telegram, which puzzled the housekeeper +more than she cared to admit to the inquisitive maid, who stood near +her, curiously watching her thoughtful face. + +"'Pears to me it will rain afore they get here, Hagar," she said, +nervously, and, as if in confirmation of her words, a few rain-drops +splashed against the window-pane. + +Both stood gazing intently out into the darkness. The storm had now +commenced in earnest. The great trees bent to and fro like reeds +before the wind; the lightning flashed, and the terrific crash of +roaring thunder mingled with the torrent of rain that beat furiously +against the casement. It seemed as if the very flood-gates of heaven +were flung open wide on this memorable night of the master's return. + +"It is a fearful night. Ah! happy is the bride upon whose home-coming +the sunlight falls," muttered Mrs. Corliss under her breath. + +Hagar had caught the low-spoken words, and in a voice that sounded +strange and weird like a warning, she answered: + +"Yes, and unhappy is the bride upon whose home-coming rain-drops +fall." + +How little they knew, as they stood there, of the terrible tragedy--the +cruelest ever enacted--those grim, silent walls of Whitestone Hall +were soon to witness, in fulfillment of the strange prophecy. Hagar, +the maid, had scarcely ceased speaking ere the door was flung violently +open, and a child of some five summers rushed into the room, her face +livid with passion, and her dark, gleaming eyes shining like baneful +stars, before which the two women involuntarily quailed. + +"What is this I hear?" she cried, with wild energy, glancing fiercely +from the one to the other. "Is it true what they tell me--my father is +bringing home his bride?" + +"Pluma, my child," remonstrated Mrs. Corliss, feebly, "I--" + +"Don't Pluma me!" retorted the child, clutching the deep crimson +passion-roses from a vase at her side, and trampling them ruthlessly +beneath her feet. "Answer me at once, I say--has he _dared_ do it?" + +"P-l-u-m-a!" Mrs. Corliss advances toward her, but the child turns her +darkly beautiful, willful face toward her with an imperious gesture. + +"Do not come a step nearer," cried the child, bitterly, "or I shall +fling myself from the window down on to the rocks below. I shall never +welcome my father's wife here; and mark me, both of you, I hate her!" +she cried, vehemently. "She shall rue the day that she was born!" + +Mrs. Corliss knew but too well the child would keep her word. No +power, save God, could stay the turbulent current of the ungovernable +self-will which would drag her on to her doom. No human being could +hold in subjection the fierce, untamed will of the beautiful, youthful +tyrant. + +There had been strange rumors of the unhappiness of Basil Hurlhurst's +former marriage. No one remembered having seen her but once, quite +five years before. A beautiful woman with a little babe had suddenly +appeared at Whitestone Hall, announcing herself as Basil Hurlhurst's +wife. There had been a fierce, stormy interview, and on that very +night Basil Hurlhurst took his wife and child abroad; those who had +once seen the dark, glorious, scornful beauty of the woman's face +never forgot it. Two years later the master had returned alone with +the little child, heavily draped in widower's weeds. + +The master of Whitestone Hall was young; those who knew his story were +not surprised that he should marry--he could not go through life +alone; still they felt a nameless pity for the young wife who was to +be brought to the home in which dwelt the child of his former wife. + +There would be bitter war to the end between them. No one could tell +on which side the scales of mercy and justice would be balanced. + +At that instant, through the raging of the fierce elements, the sound +of carriage wheels smote upon their ears as the vehicle dashed rapidly +up the long avenue to the porch; while, in another instant, the young +master, half carrying the slight, delicate figure that clung timidly +to his arm, hurriedly entered the spacious parlor. There was a short +consultation with the housekeeper, and Basil Hurlhurst, tenderly +lifting the slight burden in his strong, powerful arms, quickly bore +his wife to the beautiful apartments that had been prepared for her. + +In the excitement of the moment Pluma was quite forgotten; for an +instant only she glanced bitterly at the sweet, fair face resting +against her father's shoulder, framed in a mass of golden hair. The +child clinched her small hands until she almost cried aloud with the +intense pain, never once deigning a glance at her father's face. In +that one instant the evil seeds of a lifetime were sown strong as life +and more bitter than death. + +Turning hastily aside she sprung hurriedly down the long corridor, and +out into the darkness and the storm, never stopping to gain breath +until she had quite reached the huge ponderous gate that shut in the +garden from the dense thicket that skirted the southern portion of the +plantation. She laughed a hard, mocking laugh that sounded unnatural +from such childish lips, as she saw a white hand hurriedly loop back +the silken curtains of her father's window, and saw him bend tenderly +over the golden-haired figure in the arm-chair. Suddenly the sound of +her own name fell upon her ear. + +"Pluma," whispered a low, cautious voice; and in the quick flashes of +lightning she saw a white, haggard woman's face pressed close against +the grating, and two white hands were steadily forcing the rusty lock. +There was no fear in the fiery, rebellious heart of the dauntless +child. + +"Go away, you miserable beggar-woman," she cried, "or I shall set the +hounds on you at once. Do you hear me, I say?" + +"Who are you?" questioned the woman, in the same low, guarded voice. + +The child threw her head back proudly, her voice rising shrilly above +the wild warring of the elements, as she answered: + +"Know, then, I am Pluma, the heiress of Whitestone Hall." + +The child formed a strange picture--her dark, wild face, so strangely +like the mysterious woman's own, standing vividly out against the +crimson lightning flashes, her dark curls blown about the gypsy-like +face, the red lips curling scornfully, her dark eyes gleaming. + +"Pluma," called the woman, softly, "come here." + +"How dare _you_, a beggar-woman, call me!" cried the child, +furiously. + +"Pluma--come--here--instantly!" + +There was a subtle something in the stranger's voice that throbbed +through the child's pulses like leaping fire--a strange, mysterious +influence that bound her, heart and soul, like the mesmeric influence +a serpent exerts over a fascinated dove. Slowly, hesitatingly, this +child, whose fiery will had never bowed before human power, came +timidly forward, step by step, close to the iron gate against which +the woman's face was pressed. She stretched out her hand, and it +rested for a moment on the child's dark curls. + +"Pluma, the gate is locked," she said. "Do you know where the keys +are?" + +"No," answered the child. + +"They used to hang behind the pantry door--a great bunch of them. +Don't they hang there now?" + +"Ye--es." + +"I thought so," muttered the woman, triumphantly. "Now, listen, Pluma; +I want you to do exactly as I bid you. I want you to go quickly and +quietly, and bring me the longest and thinnest one. You are not to +breathe one word of this to any living soul. Do you understand, +Pluma--I command you to do it." + +"Yes," answered the child, dubiously. + +"Stay!" she called, as the child was about to turn from her. "Why is +the house lighted up to-night?" + +Again the reckless spirit of the child flashed forth. + +"My father has brought home his bride," she said. "Don't you see him +bending over her, toward the third window yonder?" + +The woman's eyes quickly followed in the direction indicated. + +Was it a curse the woman muttered as she watched the fair, golden-haired +young girl-wife's head resting against Basil Hurlhurst's breast, his +arms clasped lovingly about her? + +"Go, Pluma!" she commanded, bitterly. + +Quickly and cautiously the child sped on her fatal errand through the +storm and the darkness. A moment later she had returned with the key +which was to unlock a world of misery to so many lives. + +"Promise me, Pluma, heiress of Whitestone Hall, never to tell what you +have done or seen or heard to-night. You must never dare breathe it +while you live. Say you will never tell, Pluma." + +"No," cried the child, "I shall never tell. They might kill me, but I +would never tell them." + +The next moment she was alone. Stunned and bewildered, she turned her +face slowly toward the house. The storm did not abate in its fury; +night-birds flapped their wings through the storm overhead; owls +shrieked in the distance from the swaying tree-tops; yet the child +walked slowly home, knowing no fear. In the house lights were moving +to and fro, while servants, with bated breath and light footfalls, +hurried through the long corridors toward her father's room. No one +seemed to notice Pluma, in her dripping robe, creeping slowly along by +their side toward her own little chamber. + +It was quite midnight when her father sent for her. Pluma suffered him +to kiss her, giving back no answering caress. + +"I have brought some one else to you, my darling," he said. "See, +Pluma--a new mamma! And see who else--a wee, dimpled little sister, +with golden hair like mamma's, and great blue eyes. Little Evalia is +your sister, dear. Pluma must love her new mamma and sister for papa's +sake." + +The dark frown on the child's face never relaxed, and, with an +impatient gesture, her father ordered her taken at once from the +room. + +Suddenly the great bells of Whitestone Hall ceased pealing for the +joyous birth of Basil Hurlhurst's daughter, and bitter cries of a +strong man in mortal anguish rent the air. No one had noticed how or +when the sweet, golden-haired young wife had died. With a smile on her +lips, she was dead, with her tiny little darling pressed close to her +pulseless heart. + +But sorrow even as pitiful as death but rarely travels singly. Dear +Heaven! how could they tell the broken-hearted man, who wept in such +agony beside the wife he had loved so well, of another mighty sorrow +that had fallen upon him? Who was there that could break the news to +him? The tiny, fair-haired infant had been stolen from their midst. +They would have thanked God if it had been lying cold in death upon +its mother's bosom. + +Slowly throughout the long night--that terrible night that was never +to be forgotten--the solemn bells pealed forth from the turrets of +Whitestone Hall, echoing in their sound: "Unhappy is the bride the +rain falls on." Most truly had been the fulfillment of the fearful +prophecy! + +"Merciful God!" cried Mrs. Corliss, "how shall I break the news to my +master? The sweet little babe is gone!" + +For answer Hagar bent quickly over her, and breathed a few words in +her ear that caused her to cry out in horror and amaze. + +"No one will ever know," whispered Hagar; "it is the wisest course. +The truth will lie buried in our own hearts, and die with us." + + * * * * * + +Six weeks from the night his golden-haired wife had died Basil Hurlhurst +awoke to consciousness from the ravages of brain-fever--awoke to a life +not worth the living. Quickly Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was +sent for, who soon entered the room, leaning upon Hagar's arm. + +"My wife is--" He could not say more. + +"Buried, sir, beneath yonder willow." + +"And the babe?" he cried, eagerly. "Dead," answered Hagar, softly. +"Both are buried in one grave." + +Basil Hurlhurst turned his face to the wall, with a bitter groan. + +Heaven forgive them--the seeds of the bitterest of tragedies were +irrevocably sown. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +One bright May morning some sixteen years later, the golden sunshine +was just putting forth its first crimson rays, lighting up the +ivy-grown turrets of Whitestone Hall, and shining upon a little white +cottage nestling in a bower of green leaves far to the right of it, +where dwelt John Brooks, the overseer of the Hurlhurst plantation. + +For sixteen years the grand old house had remained closed--the +plantation being placed in charge of a careful overseer. Once again +Whitestone Hall was thrown open to welcome the master, Basil +Hurlhurst, who had returned from abroad, bringing with him his +beautiful daughter and a party of friends. + +The interior of the little cottage was astir with bustling activity. + +It was five o'clock; the chimes had played the hour; the laborers were +going to the fields, and the dairy-maids were beginning their work. + +In the door-way of the cottage stood a tall, angular woman, shading +her flushed and heated face from the sun's rays with her hand. + +"Daisy, Daisy!" she calls, in a harsh, rasping voice, "where are you, +you good-for-nothing lazy girl? Come into the house directly, I say." +Her voice died away over the white stretches of waving cotton, but no +Daisy came. "Here's a pretty go," she cried, turning into the room +where her brother sat calmly finishing his morning meal, "a pretty go, +indeed! I promised Miss Pluma those white mulls should be sent over to +her the first thing in the morning. She will be in a towering rage, +and no wonder, and like enough you'll lose your place, John Brooks, +and 'twill serve you right, too, for encouraging that lazy girl in her +idleness." + +"Don't be too hard on little Daisy, Septima," answered John Brooks, +timidly, reaching for his hat. "She will have the dresses at the Hall +in good time, I'll warrant." + +"Too hard, indeed; that's just like you men; no feeling for your poor, +overworked sister, so long as that girl has an easy life of it. It was +a sorry day for _me_ when your aunt Taiza died, leaving this girl to +our care." + +A deep flush mantled John Brooks' face, but he made no retort, while +Septima energetically piled the white fluted laces in the huge +basket--piled it full to the brim, until her arm ached with the weight +of it--the basket which was to play such a fatal part in the truant +Daisy's life--the life which for sixteen short years had been so +monotonous. + +Over the corn-fields half hid by the clover came a young girl tripping +lightly along. John Brooks paused in the path as he caught sight of +her. "Poor, innocent little Daisy!" he muttered half under his breath, +as he gazed at her quite unseen. + +Transferred to canvas, it would have immortalized a painter. No wonder +the man's heart softened as he gazed. He saw a glitter of golden +curls, and the scarlet gleam of a mantle--a young girl, tall and +slender, with rounded, supple limbs, and a figure graceful in every +line and curve--while her arms, bare to the elbow, would have charmed +a sculptor. Cheek and lips were a glowing rosy red--while her eyes, of +the deepest and darkest blue, were the merriest that ever gazed up to +the summer sunshine. + +Suddenly from over the trees there came the sound of the great bell at +the Hall. Daisy stood quite still in alarm. + +"It is five o'clock!" she cried. "What shall I do? Aunt Septima will +be so angry with me; she promised Miss Pluma her white dresses should +be at the Hall by five, and it is that already." + +Poor little Daisy! no wonder her heart throbbed painfully and the look +of fear deepened in her blue eyes as she sped rapidly up the path that +led to the little cottage where Septima grimly awaited her with +flushed face and flashing eyes. + +"So," she said, harshly, "you are come at last, are you? and a pretty +fright you have given me. You shall answer to Miss Pluma _herself_ for +this. I dare say you will never attempt to offend her a second time." + +"Indeed, Aunt Septima, I never dreamed it was so late," cried +conscious Daisy. "I was watching the sun rise over the cotton-fields, +and watching the dewdrops glittering on the corn, thinking of the +beautiful heiress of Whitestone Hall. I am so sorry I forgot about the +dresses." + +Hastily catching up the heavy basket, she hurried quickly down the +path, like a startled deer, to escape the volley of wrath the +indignant spinster hurled after her. + +It was a beautiful morning; no cloud was in the smiling heavens; the +sun shone brightly, and the great oak and cedar-trees that skirted the +roadside seemed to thrill with the song of birds. Butterflies spread +their light wings and coquetted with the fragrant blossoms, and busy +humming-bees buried themselves in the heart of the crimson wild rose. +The basket was very heavy, and poor little Daisy's hands ached with +the weight of it. + +"If I might but rest for a few moments only," she said to herself, +eying the cool, shady grass by the roadside. "Surely a moment or two +will not matter. Oh, dear, I am so tired!" + +She set the basket down on the cool, green grass, flinging herself +beside it beneath the grateful shade of a blossoming magnolia-tree, +resting her golden head against the basket of filmy laces that were to +adorn the beautiful heiress of whom she had heard so much, yet never +seen, and of whom every one felt in such awe. + +She looked wistfully at the great mansion in the distance, thinking +how differently her own life had been. + +The soft, wooing breeze fanned her cheeks, tossing about her golden +curls in wanton sport. It was so pleasant to sit there in the dreamy +silence watching the white fleecy clouds, the birds, and the flowers, +it was little wonder the swift-winged moments flew heedlessly by. +Slowly the white lids drooped over the light-blue eyes, the long, +golden lashes lay against the rosy cheeks, the ripe lips parted in a +smile--all unheeded were the fluted laces--Daisy slept. Oh, cruel +breeze--oh, fatal wooing breeze to have infolded hapless Daisy in your +soft embrace! + +Over the hills came the sound of baying hounds, followed by a quick, +springy step through the crackling underbrush, as a young man in +close-fitting velvet hunting-suit and jaunty velvet cap emerged from +the thicket toward the main road. + +As he parted the magnolia branches the hound sprang quickly forward at +some object beneath the tree, with a low, hoarse growl. + +"Down, Towser, down!" cried Rex Lyon, leaping lightly over some +intervening brushwood. "What kind of game have we here? Whew!" he +ejaculated, surprisedly; "a young girl, pretty as a picture, and, by +the eternal, fast asleep, too!" + +Still Daisy slept on, utterly unconscious of the handsome brown eyes +that were regarding her so admiringly. + +"I have often heard of fairies, but this is the first time I have ever +caught one napping under the trees. I wonder who she is anyhow? Surely +she can not be some drudging farmer's daughter with a form and face +like that?" he mused, suspiciously eying the basket of freshly +laundered laces against which the flushed cheeks and waving golden +hair rested. + +Just then his ludicrous position struck him forcibly. + +"Come, Towser," he said, "it would never do for you and me to be +caught staring at this pretty wood-nymph so rudely, if she should by +chance awaken just now." + +Tightening the strap of his game-bag over his shoulder, and +readjusting his velvet cap jauntily over his brown curls, Rex was +about to resume his journey in the direction of Whitestone Hall, when +the sound of rapidly approaching carriage-wheels fell upon his ears. +Realizing his awkward position, Rex knew the wisest course he could +possibly pursue would be to screen himself behind the magnolia +branches until the vehicle should pass. The next instant a pair of +prancing ponies, attached to a basket phaeton, in which sat a young +girl, who held them well in check, dashed rapidly up the road. Rex +could scarcely repress an exclamation of surprise as he saw the +occupant was his young hostess, Pluma Hurlhurst of Whitestone Hall. +She drew rein directly in front of the sleeping girl, and Rex Lyon +never forgot, to his dying day, the discordant laugh that broke from +her red lips--a laugh which caused poor Daisy to start from her +slumber in wild alarm, scattering the snowy contents of the basket in +all directions. + +For a single instant their eyes met--these two girls, whose lives were +to cross each other so strangely--poor Daisy, like a frightened bird, +as she guessed intuitively at the identity of the other; Pluma, +haughty, derisive, and scornfully mocking. + +"You are the person whom Miss Brooks sent to Whitestone Hall with my +mull dresses some three hours since, I presume. May I ask what +detained you?" + +Poor Daisy was quite crestfallen; great tear-drops trembled on her +long lashes. How could she answer? She had fallen asleep, wooed by the +lulling breeze and the sunshine. + +"The basket was so heavy," she answered, timidly, "and I--I--sat down +to rest a few moments, and--" + +"Further explanation is quite unnecessary," retorted Pluma, sharply, +gathering up the reins. "See that you have those things at the Hall +within ten minutes; not an instant later." + +Touching the prancing ponies with her ivory-handled whip, the haughty +young heiress whirled leisurely down the road, leaving Daisy, with +flushed face and tear-dimmed eyes, gazing after her. + +"Oh, dear, I wish I had never been born," she sobbed, flinging herself +down on her knees, and burying her face in the long, cool grass. "No +one ever speaks a kind word to me but poor old Uncle John, and even he +dare not be kind when Aunt Septima is near. She might have taken this +heavy basket in her carriage," sighed Daisy, bravely lifting the heavy +burden in her delicate arms. + +"That is just what I think," muttered Rex Lyon from his place of +concealment, savagely biting his lip. + +In another moment he was by her side. + +"Pardon me," he said, deferentially raising his cap from his glossy +curls, "that basket is too heavy for your slender arms. Allow me to +assist you." + +In a moment the young girl stood up, and made the prettiest and most +graceful of courtesies as she raised to his a face he never forgot. +Involuntarily he raised his cap again in homage to her youth, and her +shy sweet beauty. + +"No; I thank you, sir, I have not far to carry the basket," she +replied, in a voice sweet as the chiming of silver bells--a voice that +thrilled him, he could not tell why. + +A sudden desire possessed Rex to know who she was and from whence she +came. + +"Do you live at the Hall?" he asked. + +"No," she replied, "I am Daisy Brooks, the overseer's niece." + +"Daisy Brooks," said Rex, musingly. "What a pretty name! how well it +suits you!" + +He watched the crimson blushes that dyed her fair young face--she +never once raised her dark-blue eyes to his. The more Rex looked at +her the more he admired this coy, bewitching, pretty little maiden. +She made a fair picture under the boughs of the magnolia-tree, thick +with odorous pink-and-white tinted blossoms, the sunbeams falling on +her golden hair. + +The sunshine or the gentle southern wind brought Rex no warning he was +forging the first links of a dreadful tragedy. He thought only of the +shy blushing beauty and coy grace of the young girl--he never dreamed +of the hour when he should look back to that moment, wondering at his +own blind folly, with a curse on his lips. + +Again from over the trees came the sound of the great bell from the +Hall. + +"It is eight o'clock," cried Daisy, in alarm. "Miss Pluma will be so +angry with me." + +"Angry!" said Rex; "angry with you! For what?" + +"She is waiting for the mull dresses," replied Daisy. + +It was a strange idea to him that any one should dare be angry with +this pretty gentle Daisy. + +"You will at least permit me to carry your basket as far as the gate," +he said, shouldering her burden without waiting for a reply. Daisy had +no choice but to follow him. "There," said Rex, setting the basket +down by the plantation gate, which they had reached all too soon, "you +must go, I suppose. It seems hard to leave the bright sunshine to go +indoors." + +"I--I shall soon return," said Daisy, with innocent frankness. + +"Shall you?" cried Rex. "Will you return home by the same path?" + +"Yes," she replied, "if Miss Pluma does not need me." + +"Good-bye, Daisy," he said. "I shall see you again." + +He held out his hand and her little fingers trembled and fluttered in +his clasp. Daisy looked so happy yet so frightened, so charming yet so +shy, Rex hardly knew how to define the feeling that stirred in his +heart. + +He watched the graceful, fairy figure as Daisy tripped away--instead +of thinking he had done a very foolish thing that bright morning. Rex +lighted a cigar and fell to dreaming of sweet little Daisy Brooks, and +wondering how he should pass the time until he should see her again. + +While Daisy almost flew up the broad gravel path to the house, the +heavy burden she bore seemed light as a feather--no thought that she +had been imprudent ever entered her mind. + +There was no one to warn her of the peril which lay in the witching +depths of the handsome stranger's glances. + +All her young life she had dreamed of the hero who would one day come +to her, just such a dream as all youthful maidens experience--an idol +they enshrine in their innermost heart, and worship in secret, never +dreaming of a cold, dark time when the idol may lie shattered in ruins +at their feet. How little knew gentle Daisy Brooks of the fatal love +which would drag her down to her doom! + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +In an elegant boudoir, all crimson and gold, some hours later, sat +Pluma Hurlhurst, reclining negligently on a satin divan, toying idly +with a volume which lay in her lap. She tossed the book aside with a +yawn, turning her superb dark eyes on the little figure bending over +the rich trailing silks which were to adorn her own fair beauty on the +coming evening. + +"So you think you would like to attend the lawn fete to-night, Daisy?" +she asked, patronizingly. + +Daisy glanced up with a startled blush, + +"Oh, I should like it so much, Miss Pluma," she answered, hesitatingly, +"if I only could!" + +"I think I shall gratify you," said Pluma, carelessly. "You have made +yourself very valuable to me. I like the artistic manner you have +twined these roses in my hair; the effect is quite picturesque." She +glanced satisfiedly at her own magnificent reflection in the +cheval-glass opposite. Titian alone could have reproduced those +rich, marvelous colors--that perfect, queenly beauty. He would have +painted the picture, and the world would have raved about its beauty. +The dark masses of raven-black hair; the proud, haughty face, with +its warm southern tints; the dusky eyes, lighted with fire and +passion, and the red, curved lips. "I wish particularly to look my +very best to-night, Daisy," she said; "that is why I wish you to +remain. You can arrange those sprays of white heath in my hair +superbly. Then you shall attend the fete, Daisy. Remember, you are not +expected to take part in it; you must sit in some secluded nook +where you will be quite unobserved." + +Pluma could not help but smile at the ardent delight depicted in +Daisy's face. + +"I am afraid I can not stay," she said, doubtfully, glancing down in +dismay at the pink-and-white muslin she wore. "Every one would be sure +to laugh at me who saw me. Then I would wish I had not stayed." + +"Suppose I should give you one to wear--that white mull, for +instance--how would you like it? None of the guests would see you," +replied Pluma. + +There was a wistful look in Daisy's eyes, as though she would fain +believe what she heard was really true. + +"Would you really?" asked Daisy, wonderingly. "You, whom people call +so haughty and so proud--you would really let me wear one of your +dresses? I do not know how to tell you how much I am pleased!" she +said, eagerly. + +Pluma Hurlhurst laughed. Such rapture was new to her. + +The night which drew its mantle over the smiling earth was a perfect +one. Myriads of stars shone like jewels in the blue sky, and not a +cloud obscured the face of the clear full moon. Hurlhurst Plantation +was ablaze with colored lamps that threw out soft rainbow tints in all +directions as far as the eye could reach. The interior of Whitestone +Hall was simply dazzling in its rich rose bloom, its lights, its +fountains, and rippling music from adjoining ferneries. + +In an elegant apartment of the Hall Basil Hurlhurst, the recluse +invalid, lay upon his couch, trying to shut out the mirth and gayety +that floated up to him from below. As the sound of Pluma's voice +sounded upon his ear he turned his face to the wall with a bitter +groan. "She is so like--" he muttered, grimly. "Ah! the pleasant +voices of our youth turn into lashes which scourge us in our old age. +'Like mother, like child.'" + +The lawn fete was a grand success; the _elite_ of the whole country +round were gathered together to welcome the beautiful, peerless +hostess of Whitestone Hall. Pluma moved among her guests like a queen, +yet in all that vast throng her eyes eagerly sought one face. "Where +was Rex?" was the question which constantly perplexed her. After the +first waltz he had suddenly disappeared. Only the evening before +handsome Rex Lyon had held her jeweled hand long at parting, +whispering, in his graceful, charming way, he had something to tell +her on the morrow. "Why did he hold himself so strangely aloof?" Pluma +asked herself, in bitter wonder. Ah! had she but known! + +While Pluma, the wealthy heiress, awaited his coming so eagerly, Rex +Lyon was standing, quite lost in thought, beside a rippling fountain +in one of the most remote parts of the lawn, thinking of Daisy Brooks. +He had seen a fair face--that was all--a face that embodied his dream +of loveliness, and without thinking of it found his fate, and the +whole world seemed changed for him. + +Handsome, impulsive Rex Lyon, owner of several of the most extensive +and lucrative orange groves in Florida, would have bartered every +dollar of his worldly possessions for love. + +He had hitherto treated all notion of love in a very off-hand, +cavalier fashion. + +"Love is fate," he had always said. He knew Pluma loved him. Last +night he had said to himself: The time had come when he might as well +marry; it might as well be Pluma as any one else, seeing she cared so +much for him. Now all that was changed. "I sincerely hope she will not +attach undue significance to the words I spoke last evening," he +mused. + +Rex did not care to return again among the throng; it was sweeter far +to sit there by the murmuring fountain dreaming of Daisy Brooks, and +wondering when he should see her again. A throng which did not hold +the face of Daisy Brooks had no charm for Rex. + +Suddenly a soft step sounded on the grass; Rex's heart gave a sudden +bound; surely it could not be--yes, it was--Daisy Brooks. + +She drew back with a startled cry as her eyes suddenly encountered +those of her hero of the morning. She would have fled precipitately +had he not stretched out his hand quickly to detain her. + +"Daisy," cried Rex, "why do you look so frightened? Are you displeased +to see me?" + +"No," she said. "I--I--do not know--" + +She looked so pretty, so bewildered, so dazzled by joy, yet so +pitifully uncertain, Rex was more desperately in love with her than +ever. + +"Your eyes speak, telling me you _are_ pleased, Daisy, even if your +lips _refuse_ to tell me so. Sit down on this rustic bench, Daisy, +while I tell you how anxiously I awaited your coming--waited until the +shadows of evening fell." + +As he talked to her he grew more interested with every moment. She +had no keen intellect, no graceful powers of repartee, knew little of +books or the great world beyond. Daisy was a simple, guileless child +of nature. + +Rex's vanity was gratified at the unconscious admiration which shone +in her eyes and the blushes his words brought to her cheeks. + +"There is my favorite waltz, Daisy," he said, as the music of the +irresistible "Blue Danube" floated out to them. "Will you favor me +with a waltz?" + +"Miss Pluma would be so angry," she murmured. + +"Never mind her anger, Daisy. I will take all the blame on _my_ +shoulders. They are unusually broad, you see." + +He led her half reluctant among the gay throng; gentlemen looked at +one another in surprise. Who is she? they asked one of the other, +gazing upon her in wonder. No one could answer. The sweet-faced little +maiden in soft, floating white, with a face like an angel's, who wore +no other ornament than her crown of golden hair, was a mystery and a +novelty. In all the long years of her after life Daisy never forgot +that supremely blissful moment. It seemed to her they were floating +away into another sphere. Rex's arms were around her, his eyes smiling +down into hers; he could feel the slight form trembling in his +embrace, and he clasped her still closer. With youth, music, and +beauty--there was nothing wanting to complete the charm of love. + +Leaning gracefully against an overarching palm-tree stood a young man +watching the pair with a strange intentness; a dark, vindictive smile +hovered about the corners of his mouth, hidden by his black mustache, +and there was a cruel gleam in the dark, wicked eyes scanning the face +of the young girl so closely. + +"Ah! why not?" he mused. "It would be a glorious revenge." He made his +way hurriedly in the direction of his young hostess, who was, as +usual, surrounded by a group of admirers. A deep crimson spot burned +on either cheek, and her eyes glowed like stars, as of one under +intense, suppressed excitement. + +Lester Stanwick made his way to her side just as the last echo of the +waltz died away on the air, inwardly congratulating himself upon +finding Rex and Daisy directly beside him. + +"Miss Pluma," said Stanwick, with a low bow, "will you kindly present +me to the little fairy on your right? I am quite desperately smitten +with her." + +Several gentlemen crowded around Pluma asking the same favor. + +With a smile and a bow, what could Rex do but lead Daisy gracefully +forward. Those who witnessed the scene that ensued never forgot it. +For answer Pluma Hurlhurst turned coldly, haughtily toward them, +drawing herself up proudly to her full height. + +"There is evidently some mistake here," she said, glancing scornfully +at the slight, girlish figure leaning upon Rex Lyon's arm. "I do not +recognize this person as a guest. If I mistake not, she is one of the +hirelings connected with the plantation." + +If a thunderbolt had suddenly exploded beneath Rex's feet he could not +have been more thoroughly astounded. + +Daisy uttered a piteous little cry and, like a tender flower cut down +by a sudden, rude blast, would have fallen at his feet had he not +reached out his arm to save her. + +"Miss Hurlhurst," cried Rex, in a voice husky with emotion, "I hold +myself responsible for this young lady's presence here. I--" + +"Ah!" interrupts Pluma, ironically; "and may I ask by what right you +force one so inferior, and certainly obnoxious, among us?" + +Rex Lyon's handsome face was white with rage. "Miss Hurlhurst," he +replied, with stately dignity, "I regret, more than the mere words +express, that my heedlessness has brought upon this little creature at +my side an insult so cruel, so unjust, and so bitter, in simply +granting my request for a waltz--a request very reluctantly granted. +An invited guest among you she may not be; but I most emphatically +defy her inferiority to any lady or gentleman present." + +"Rex--Mr. Lyon," says Pluma, icily, "you forget yourself." + +He smiled contemptuously. "I do not admit it," he said, hotly. "I have +done that which any gentleman should have done; defended from insult +one of the purest and sweetest of maidens. I will do more--I will +shield her, henceforth and forever, with my very life, if need be. If +I can win her, I shall make Daisy Brooks my wife." + +Rex spoke rapidly--vehemently. His chivalrous soul was aroused; he +scarcely heeded the impetuous words that fell from his lips. He could +not endure the thought that innocent, trusting little Daisy should +suffer through any fault of his. + +"Come, Daisy," he said, softly, clasping in his own strong white ones +the little fingers clinging so pitifully to his arm, "we will go away +from here at once--our presence longer is probably obnoxious. +Farewell, Miss Hurlhurst." + +"Rex," cried Pluma, involuntarily taking a step forward, "you do not, +you can not mean what you say. You will not allow a creature like that +to separate us--you have forgotten, Rex. You said you had something to +tell me. You will not part with me so easily," she cried. + +A sudden terror seized her at the thought of losing him. He was her +world. She forgot the guests gathering about her--forgot she was the +wealthy, courted heiress for whose glance or smiles men sued in +vain--forgot her haughty pride, in the one absorbing thought that Rex +was going from her. Her wild, fiery, passionate love could bear no +restraint. + +"Rex," she cried, suddenly falling on her knees before him, her face +white and stormy, her white jeweled hands clasped supplicatingly, "you +must not, you shall not leave me so; no one shall come between us. +Listen--I love you, Rex. What if the whole world knows it--what will +it matter, it is the truth. My love is my life. You loved me until she +came between us with her false, fair face. But for this you would have +asked me to be your wife. Send that miserable little hireling away, +Rex--the gardener will take charge of her." + +Pluma spoke rapidly, vehemently. No one could stay the torrent of her +bitter words. + +Rex was painfully distressed and annoyed. Fortunately but very few of +the guests had observed the thrilling tableau enacted so near them. + +"Pluma--Miss Hurlhurst," he said, "I am sorry you have unfortunately +thus expressed yourself, for your own sake. I beg you will say no +more. You yourself have severed this night the last link of +friendship between us. I am frank with you in thus admitting it. I +sympathize with you, while your words have filled me with the +deepest consternation and embarrassment, which it is useless longer to +prolong." + +Drawing Daisy's arm hurriedly within his own, Rex Lyon strode quickly +down the graveled path, with the full determination of never again +crossing the threshold of Whitestone Hall, or gazing upon the face of +Pluma Hurlhurst. + +Meanwhile Pluma had arisen from her knees with a gay, mocking laugh, +turning suddenly to the startled group about her. + +"Bravo! bravo! Miss Pluma," cried Lester Stanwick, stepping to her +side at that opportune moment. "On the stage you would have made a +grand success. We are practicing for a coming charade," explained +Stanwick, laughingly; "and, judging from the expressions depicted on +our friend's faces, I should say you have drawn largely upon real +life. You will be a success, Miss Pluma." + +No one dreamed of doubting the assertion. A general laugh followed, +and the music struck up again, and the gay mirth of the fete resumed +its sway. + +Long after the guests had departed Pluma sat in her boudoir, her heart +torn with pain, love, and jealousy, her brain filled with schemes of +vengeance. + +"I can not take her life!" she cried; "but if I could mar her +beauty--the pink-and-white beauty of Daisy Brooks, which has won Rex +from me--I would do it. I shall torture her for this," she cried. "I +will win him from her though I wade through seas of blood. Hear me, +Heaven," she cried, "and register my vow!" + +Pluma hastily rung the bell. + +"Saddle Whirlwind and Tempest at once!" she said to the servant who +answered her summons. + +"It is after midnight, Miss Pluma. I--" + +There was a look in her eyes which would brook no further words. + +An hour later they had reached the cottage wherein slept Daisy Brooks, +heedless of the danger that awaited her. + +"Wait for me here," said Pluma to the groom who accompanied her--"_I +will not be long!_" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +"Daisy," said Rex, gently, as he led her away from the lights and the +echoing music out into the starlight that shone with a soft, silvery +radiance over hill and vale, "I shall never forgive myself for being +the cause of the cruel insult you have been forced to endure to-night. +I declare it's a shame. I shall tell Pluma so to-morrow." + +"Oh, no--no--please don't, Mr. Rex. I--I--had no right to waltz with +you," sobbed Daisy, "when I knew you were Pluma's lover." + +"Don't say that, Daisy," responded Rex, warmly. "I am glad, after all, +everything has happened just as it did, otherwise I should never have +known just how dear a certain little girl had grown to me; besides, I +am not Pluma's lover, and never shall be now." + +"You have quarreled with her for my sake," whispered Daisy, +regretfully. "I am so sorry--indeed I am." + +Daisy little dreamed, as she watched the deep flush rise to Rex's +face, it was of her he was thinking, and not Pluma, by the words, "a +certain little girl." + +Rex saw she did not understand him; he stopped short in the path, +gazing down into those great, dreamy, pleading eyes that affected him +so strangely. + +"Daisy," he said, gently, taking her little clinging hands from his +arm, and clasping them in his own, "you must not be startled at what I +am going to tell you. When I met you under the magnolia boughs, I knew +I had met my fate. I said to myself: 'She, and no other, shall be my +wife.'" + +"Your wife," she cried, looking at him in alarm. "Please don't say so. +I don't want to be your wife." + +"Why not, Daisy?" he asked, quickly. + +"Because you are so far above me," sobbed Daisy. "You are so rich, and +I am only poor little Daisy Brooks." + +Oh, how soft and beautiful were the eyes swimming in tears and lifted +so timidly to his face! She could not have touched Rex more deeply. +Daisy was his first love, and he loved her from the first moment their +eyes met, with all the strength of his boyish, passionate nature; so +it is not strange that the thought of possessing her, years sooner +than he should have dared hope, made his young blood stir with ecstasy +even though he knew it was wrong. + +"Wealth shall be no barrier between us, Daisy," he cried. "What is all +the wealth in the world compared to love? Do not say that again. Love +outweighs everything. Even though you bid me go away and forget you, +Daisy, I could not do it. I can not live without you." + +"Do you really love me so much in so short a time?" she asked, +blushingly. + +"My love can not be measured by the length of time I have known you," +he answered, eagerly. "Why, Daisy, the strongest and deepest love men +have ever felt have come to them suddenly, without warning." + +The glamour of love was upon him; he could see no faults in pretty +little artless Daisy. True, she had not been educated abroad like +Pluma, but that did not matter; such a lovely rosebud mouth was made +for kisses, not grammar. + +Rex stood in suspense beside her, eagerly watching the conflict going +on in the girl's heart. + +"Don't refuse me, Daisy," he cried, "give me the right to protect you +forever from the cold world; let us be married to-night. We will keep +it a secret if you say so. You must--you _must_, Daisy, for I can not +give you up." + +Rex was so eager, so earnest, so thoroughly the impassioned lover! His +hands were clinging to her own, his dark, handsome face drooped near +hers, his pleading eyes searching her very soul. + +Daisy was young, romantic, and impressible; a thousand thoughts rushed +through her brain; it would be so nice to have a young husband to love +her and care for her like Rex, so handsome and so kind; then, too, she +would have plenty of dresses, as fine as Pluma wore, all lace and +puffs; she might have a carriage and ponies, too; and when she rolled +by the little cottage, Septima, who had always been so cruel to her, +would courtesy to _her_, as she did when Pluma, the haughty young +heiress, passed. + +The peachy bloom on her cheeks deepened; with Daisy's thoughtless +clinging nature, her craving for love and protection, her implicit +faith in Rex, who had protected her so nobly at the fete--it is not to +be wondered Rex won the day. + +Shyly Daisy raised her blue eyes to his face--and he read a shy, sweet +consent that thrilled his very soul. + +"You shall never regret this hour, my darling," he cried, then in the +soft silvery twilight he took her to his heart and kissed her +rapturously. + +His mother's bitter anger, so sure to follow--the cold, haughty +mother, who never forgot or forgave an injury, and his little sister +Birdie's sorrow were at that moment quite forgotten--even if they had +been remembered they would have weighed as naught compared with his +lovely little Daisy with the golden hair and eyes of blue looking up +at him so trustingly. + +Daisy never forgot that walk through the sweet pink clover to the +little chapel on the banks of the lonely river. The crickets chirped +in the long green grass, and the breeze swayed the branches of the +tall leafy trees, rocking the little birds in their nests. + +A sudden, swift, terrified look crept up into Daisy's face as they +entered the dim shadowy parlor. Rex took her trembling chilled hands +in his own; if he had not, at that moment, Daisy would have fled from +the room. + +"Only a little courage, Daisy," he whispered, "then a life of +happiness." + +Then as if in a dream she stood quite still by his side, while the +fatal ceremony went on; in a confused murmur she heard the questions +and responses of her lover, and answered the questions put to her; +then Rex turned to her with a smile and a kiss. + +Poor little thoughtless Daisy--it was done--in a moment she had sown +the seeds from which was to spring up a harvest of woe so terrible +that her wildest imagination could not have painted it. + +"Are we really married, Rex?" she whispered, as he led her out again +into the starlight; "it seems so much like a dream." + +He bent his handsome head and kissed his pretty child-bride. Daisy +drew back with a startled cry--his lips were as cold as ice. + +"Yes, you are my very own now," he whispered. "No one shall ever have +the right to scold you again; you are mine now, Daisy, but we must +keep it a secret from every one for awhile, darling. You will do this +for my sake, won't you, Daisy?" he asked. "I am rich, as far as the +world knows, but it was left to me under peculiar conditions. I--I--do +not like to tell you what those conditions were, Daisy." + +"Please tell me, Rex," she said, timidly; "you know I am +your--your--wife--now." + +Daisy blushed so prettily as she spoke. Rex could not refrain from +catching her up in his arms and kissing her. + +"You _shall_ know, my darling," he cried. "The conditions were I +should marry the bride whom my mother selected for me. I was as much +startled as you will be, Daisy, when you hear who it was--Pluma +Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall." + +"But you can not marry her now, Rex," whispered the little child-bride, +nestling closer in his embrace. + +"No; nor I would not if I could. I love you the best, my pretty wild +flower. I would not exchange you, sweet, for all the world. I have +only told you this so you will see why it is necessary to keep our +marriage a secret--for the present, at least." + +Daisy readily consented. + +"You are very wise, Rex," she said. "I will do just as you tell me." + +By this time they had reached Daisy's home. + +"I will meet you to-morrow at the magnolia-tree, where first I found +my little wood-nymph, as I shall always call you. Then we can talk +matters over better. You will be sure to come while the dew sparkles +on your pretty namesakes?" he asked, eagerly. + +Before she had time to answer the cottage door opened and Septima +appeared in the door-way. Rex was obliged to content himself with +snatching a hasty kiss from the rosy lips. The next moment he was +alone. + +He walked slowly back through the tangled brushwood--not to +Whitestone Hall, but to an adjoining hostelry--feeling as though he +were in a new world. True, it _was_ hard to be separated from his +little child-bride. But Rex had a clever brain; he meant to think +of some plan out of the present difficulty. His face flushed and +paled as he thought of his new position; it seemed to him every +one must certainly read in his face he was a young husband. + +Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the broad gravel path to the little +cottage, wondering if it were a dream. + +"Well!" said Septima, sharply, "this is a pretty time of night to come +dancing home, leaving me all alone with the baking! If I hadn't my +hands full of dough I'd give your ears a sound boxing! I'll see you're +never out after dark again, I'll warrant." + +For a moment Daisy's blue eyes blazed, giving way to a roguish smile. + +"I wonder what she would say if she knew I was Daisy Brooks no longer, +but Mrs. Rex Lyon?" she thought, untying the blue ribbons of her hat. +And she laughed outright as she thought how amazed Septima would look; +and the laugh sounded like the ripple of a mountain brook. + +"Now, Aunt Seppy," coaxed Daisy, slipping up behind her and flinging +her plump little arms around the irate spinster's neck, "please don't +be cross. Indeed I was very particularly detained." + +Stptima shook off the clinging arms angrily. + +"You can't coax _me_ into upholding you with your soft, purring ways. +I'm not Brother John, to be hoodwinked so easily. Detained! A likely +story!" + +"No," laughed Daisy; "but you are dear old Uncle John's sister, and I +could love you for that, if for nothing else. But I really was +detained, though. Where's Uncle John?" + +"He's gone to the Hall after you, I reckon. I told him he had better +stop at home--you were like a bad penny, sure to find your way back." + +A sudden terror blanched Daisy's face. + +"When did he go, Aunt Seppy?" she asked, her heart throbbing so loudly +she was sure Septima would hear it. + +"An hour or more ago." + +Daisy hastily picked up her hat again. + +"Where are you going?" demanded Septima, sharply. + +"I--I--am going to meet Uncle John. Please don't stop me," she cried, +darting with the speed of a young gazelle past the hand that was +stretched out to stay her mad flight. "I--I--must go!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"I say you shall not," cried Septima, planting herself firmly before +her. "You shall not leave this house to-night." + +"You have no right to keep me here," panted Daisy. "I am--I am--" The +words died away on her lips. Rex had told her she must not tell just +yet. + +"You are a rash little fool," cried Septima, wrathfully. "You are the +bane of my life, and have been ever since that stormy winter night +John brought you here. I told him then to wash his hands of the whole +matter; you would grow up a willful, impetuous minx, and turn out at +last like your mother." + +Daisy sprung to her feet like lightning, her velvet eyes blazing, her +breath coming quick and hot. + +"Speak of me as lightly as you will, Aunt Septima," she cried, "but +you must spare my poor mother's name! Oh, mother, mother!" she cried, +flinging herself down on her knees, and sobbing piteously, "if you had +only taken me with you, down into the dark cruel waters!" + +"I only wish to Heaven she had!" fervently ejaculated Septima. + +At that moment a quick, hurried step sounded on the gravel path +without, and John Brooks hastily entered the room. + +"Ah! thank God! here you are, Daisy. I was over at the Hall for you, +and they told me you had left some hours before. I knew you had not +been home, and I was sorely afraid something had happened you." + +Ah! how little he knew! Something had happened to her, the darkest and +cruelest shadow that had ever darkened a girl's life was slowly +gathering above her innocent head, and was soon to break, carrying in +its turbulent depths a sorrow more bitter than death to bear. + +John Brooks glanced inquiringly from the one to the other, intuitively +guessing he must have interrupted a scene. + +Daisy had struggled up from her knees to a sitting posture, putting +her hair, curled into a thousand shining rings, away from her flushed +face. + +"Have you been scolding Daisy again, Septima?" he asked, angrily, +taking the panting little damsel from the floor and seating her upon +his knee, and drawing her curly head down to his rough-clad shoulder, +and holding it there with his toil-hardened hand. "What have you been +saying to my little Daisy that I find her in tears?" + +"I was telling her if she did not mend her willful ways she might turn +out like her moth--" + +"Hush!" exclaimed John Brooks, excitedly. "I shouldn't have thought +you would have dared say that. What does Daisy know of such things?" +he muttered, indignantly. "Don't let your senses run away with you, +Septima." + +"Don't let your senses run away with you, John Brooks. Haven't you the +sense to know Daisy is getting too big for you to take on your knee +and pet in that fashion? I am really ashamed of you. Daisy is almost a +woman!" snapped Septima, scornfully--"quite sixteen." + +John Brooks looked at his sister in amazement, holding little Daisy +off and gazing into the sweet little blooming face, and stroking the +long fluffy golden curls as he replied: + +"Ah, no, Septima; Daisy is only a child. Why, it seems as though +it were but yesterday I used to take her with me through the +cotton-fields, and laugh to see her stretch her chubby hands up, +crying for the bursting blossoms, growing high above her curly +golden head. Pshaw! Septima, Daisy is only a merry, frolicsome, +romantic child yet." + +Daisy nestled her tell-tale face closer on his broad shoulder to hide +the swift blushes that crept up to cheek and brow. + +"Look up, pet," he said, coaxingly, "I have news for you." + +"What--what is it?" gasped Daisy, wondering if he could possibly have +heard of her romantic marriage with Rex, turning white to the very +lips, her blue eyes darkening with suspense. + +"Come, come, now," laughed, John, good-humoredly, "don't get excited, +pet, it will take me just as long to tell it anyhow; it is something +that will please you immensely." + +He drew from his breast pocket as he spoke a thick, yellow envelope, +which contained several printed forms with blank spaces which were to +be filled up. There was something in his voice which made Daisy look +at him, but her eyes fell and her cheeks flushed hotly as she met his +glance. + +Daisy was not used to keeping a secret locked up in her truthful +little heart. She longed to throw her arms around his neck and whisper +to him of her mad, romantic marriage, and of the handsome young +husband who loved her so fondly. + +Daisy knew so little of real life, and less of love and marriage, up +to the time she had met Rex! Her heroes had been imaginary ones, her +ideas of love only girlish, romantic fancies. It was all very +exciting and charming. She was very fond of handsome Rex, but she had +yet to learn the depths of love which, sooner or later, brightens the +lives of lovable women. + +Daisy looked at the envelope with a wistful glance. + +"I am going to make a lady of you, my little sunbeam. I am going to +send you off to boarding-school. That's what you have always wanted; +now I am going to humor your whim." + +"But I--I do not want to go now, Uncle John. I--I have changed my +mind." + +"What!" + +"I--I don't want to go off to boarding-school now. I had rather stay +here with you." + +John Brooks laid down the pipe he was just lighting in genuine +surprise. + +"Why, it's only last week you were crying those pretty eyes of yours +out, teasing to be sent to school. I--well, confound it--I don't +understand the ways of women. I always thought you were different from +the rest, little Daisy, but I see you are all the same. Never two days +of the same mind. What is the reason you've changed your mind, pet?" + +"Indeed, I don't want to go now, Uncle John. Please don't talk about +it any more. I--I am happier here than I can tell you." + +John Brooks laughed cheerily. + +"It's too late for you to change your mind now, little one. I have +made arrangements for you to start bright and early to-morrow morning. +The stage will be here by daylight, so you had better start off to bed +at once, or there will be no roses in these checks to-morrow." + +He never forgot the expression of the white, startled face Daisy +raised to his. For once in her life Daisy was unable to shake him from +his purpose. + +"I know best, little one," he said. "I mean to make a lady of you. You +have no fortune, little Daisy, but your pretty face. It will be hard +to lose my little sunbeam, but it is my duty, Daisy. It is too late to +back out now; for once I am firm. You must start to-morrow morning." + +"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" sobbed Daisy, throwing herself down on her +little white bed when she had reached her own room, "what shall I do? +I can't go without seeing Rex. I never heard of a girl that was +married being sent off to school. I--I dare not tell Uncle John I am +somebody's wife. Oh, if I could only see Rex!" Daisy springs out of +bed and crosses over to the little white curtained window, gazing out +into the still calm beauty of the night. "If I only knew where to +find Rex," she mused, "I would go to him now. Surely he would not let +me be sent away from him." She turned away from the window with a +sigh. "I must see Rex to-morrow morning," she said, determinedly. And +the weary little golden head, tired out with the day which had just +died out, sunk restfully down upon the snowy pillow in a dreamless +sleep, the happiest, alas! that poor little girl-bride was to know for +long and weary years. + +A dark, dreamy silence wraps the cottage in its soft embrace, the +moon, clear and full, sails tranquilly through the star-sown heavens, +and the sweet scent of distant orange groves is wafted through the +midnight breeze. Yet the dark-cloaked figure that walks quickly and +softly up the graveled walk sees none of the soft, calm beauty of the +still summer night. She raises the brass knocker with a quick, +imperative touch. After a wait of perhaps ten minutes or so Septima +answers the summons, but the candle she holds nearly drops from her +hands as she beholds the face of her midnight visitor in the dim, +uncertain flickering glare of the candle-light. + +"Miss Pluma," she exclaims, in amazement, "is there any one ill at the +Hall?" + +"No!" replies Pluma, in a low, soft, guarded whisper. "I wished to see +you--my business is most important--may I come in?" + +"Certainly," answered Septima, awkwardly. "I beg your pardon, miss, +for keeping you standing outside so long." + +As Pluma took the seat Septima placed for her, the dark cloak she wore +fell from her shoulders, and Septima saw with wonder she still wore +the shimmering silk she had in all probability worn at the fete. The +rubies still glowed like restless, leaping fire upon her perfect arms +and snowy throat, and sprays of hyacinth were still twined in her +dark, glossy hair; but they were quite faded now, drooping, crushed, +and limp among her curls; there was a strange dead-white pallor on her +haughty face, and a lurid gleam shone in her dark, slumbrous eyes. +Pluma had studied well the character of the woman before her--who made +no secret of her dislike for the child thrust upon their bounty--and +readily imagined she would willingly aid her in carrying out the +scheme she had planned. + +Slowly one by one the stars died out of the sky; the pale moon drifted +silently behind the heavy rolling clouds; the winds tossed the tops of +the tall trees to and fro, and the dense darkness which precedes the +breaking of the gray dawn settled over the earth. + +The ponies which the groom had held for long hours pawed the ground +restlessly; the man himself was growing impatient. + +"She can be up to no good," he muttered; "all honest people should be +in their beds." + +The door of the cottage opened, and Pluma Hurlhurst walked slowly down +the path. + +"All is fair in love's warfare," she mutters, triumphantly. "Fool! +with your baby face and golden hair, you shall walk quickly into the +net I have spread for you; he shall despise you. Ay, crush with his +heel into the earth the very flowers that bear the name of _Daisy_." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Under the magnolia-tree, among the pink clover, Rex Lyon paced +uneasily to and fro, wondering what could have happened to detain +Daisy. He was very nervous, feverish, and impatient, as he watched the +sun rising higher and higher in the blue heavens, and glanced at his +watch for the fifth time in the space of a minute. + +"Pshaw!" he muttered, whisking off the tops of the buttercups near him +with his ebony walking-stick. "I am not myself at all. I am growing as +nervous as a woman. I think I'll read little sister Birdie's letter +over again to occupy my mind until my sweet little Daisy comes." + +He sighed and smiled in one breath, as he threw himself down at full +length on the green grass under the trees. Taking from his pocket a +little square white envelope, addressed in a childish hand to "Mr. +Rexford Lyon, Allendale, West Virginia, Care of Miss Pluma." Rex +laughed aloud, until the tears started to his eyes, as they fell on +the words "_Care of Miss Pluma_," heavily underlined in the lower +corner. + +"That is just like careless little romping Birdie," he mused. "She +supposes, because _she_ knows who _Miss Pluma_ is, every one else must +certainly be aware of the same fact." + +He spread out the letter on his knee, trying hard to while away time +in perusing its pages. + +Rex looked so fresh and cool and handsome in his white linen suit, +lying there under the shady trees that summer morning, his dark curls +resting on his white hand, and a smile lighting up his pleasant face, +it is not to be wondered at he was just the kind of young fellow to +win the love of young romantic girls like Daisy and Pluma--the haughty +young heiress. + +Slowly Rex read the letter through to the end. The morning stage +whirled rapidly past him on its way to meet the early train. Yet, all +unconscious that it bore away from him his treasure, he never once +glanced up from the letter he was reading. + +Again Rex laughed aloud as he glanced it over, reading as follows: + + "DEAR BROTHER REX,--We received the letter you wrote, and the + picture you sent with it, and my heart has been so heavy ever + since that I could not write to you because big tears would fall + on the page and blot it. Now, dear old Brother Rex, don't be angry + at what your little Birdie is going to say. Mamma says you are + going to marry and bring home a wife, and she showed me her + picture, and said you was very much in love with her, and I must + be so too. But I can't fall in love with her, Brother Rex; indeed, + I've tried very hard and I can't; don't tell anybody, but I'm + awfully afraid I sha'n't like her one bit. She looks stylish, and + her name Pluma sounds real stylish too, but she don't look kind. I + thought, perhaps, if I told you I did not like her you might give + her up and come home. I forgot to tell you the blue room and the + room across the hall is being fixed up for you just lovely, and I + am to have your old one. + + "P.S.--And we received a letter from Mr. Lester Stanwick, too. He + says he will be passing through here soon and wishes to call. When + are you coming home, Rex? Don't bring any one with you. + + "Your loving little sister, + "BIRDIE." + +"There's no fear of my bringing Pluma home now," he laughed, whistling +a snatch of "The Pages' Chorus." "Birdie won't have anything to fear +on that score. I do wish mother hadn't set my heart on my marrying +Pluma. Parents make a mistake in choosing whom their children shall +marry and whom they shall not. Love goes where it is sent." + +He looked at his watch again. + +"By George!" he muttered, turning very pale upon seeing another hour +had slipped away, "I can not stand this a minute longer. I _must_ see +what has happened to Daisy." + +With a nameless fear clutching at his heart--a dark, shadowy +fear--like the premonition of coming evil, Rex made his way rapidly +through the tangled underbrush, cutting across lots to John Brooks' +cottage. + +He had determined to call for Daisy upon some pretext. It was rather a +bold undertaking and might cause comment, still Rex was reckless of +all consequences; he _must_ see Daisy at all hazards; and when Rex +made up his mind to do anything he usually succeeded; he was as daring +and courageous as he was reckless and handsome. + +Once, twice, thrice he knocked, receiving no answer to his summons. + +"That's strange," he mused, "exceedingly strange." + +Hardly knowing what prompted him to do it, Rex turned the knob; it +yielded to the touch, swinging slowly back on its creaking hinges. + +"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, gazing wildly about him and as pale as +death, "Daisy is gone and the cottage is empty!" + +He leaned against the door-way, putting his hand to his brow like one +who had received a heavy blow; and the bare walls seemed to take up +the cry and echo, mockingly, "Gone!" + +The blow was so sudden and unexpected he was completely bewildered; +his brain was in a whirl. + +He saw a laborer crossing the cotton-fields and called to him. + +"I was looking for John Brooks," said Rex. "I find the cottage empty. +Can you tell me where they have gone?" + +"Gone!" echoed the man, surprisedly. "I don't understand it; I was +passing the door a few hours since, just as the stage drove off with +John Brooks and Daisy. 'Good-bye, neighbor,' he called out to me, 'I +am off on an extended business trip. You must bring your wife over to +see Septima; she will be lonely, I'll warrant.' There was no sign of +him moving then. I--I don't understand it." + +"You say he took Daisy with him," asked Rex, with painful eagerness. +"Can you tell me where they went?" + +The man shook his head and passed on. Rex was more mystified than +ever. + +"What can it all mean?" he asked himself. "Surely," he cried, +"Daisy--dear little innocent blue-eyed Daisy--could not have meant to +deceive me; yet why has she not told me?" + +The hot blood mounted to his temples. Perhaps Daisy regretted having +married him and had fled from him. The thought was so bitter it almost +took his breath away. Rex loved her so madly, so passionately, so +blindly, he vowed to himself he would search heaven and earth to find +her. And in that terrible hour the young husband tasted the first +draught of the cup of bitterness which he was to drain to the very +dregs. + +Poor Rex! he little knew this was but the first stroke of Pluma +Hurlhurst's fatal revenge--to remove her rival from her path that she +might win him back to his old allegiance. + + * * * * * + +Early that morning there had been great bustle and stir in the Brooks' +cottage. In vain Daisy had attempted to steal quietly away into her +own little room and write a hasty line to Rex, which, if all other +means failed her, she could send to him by one of the men employed in +the fields, begging him to come to her at once. Septima would not +leave her to herself for a single instant. Even her writing-desk, +which had stood on the bureau in the corner for years, was gone. Poor +little Daisy cried out to herself--fate was against her. + +"I should like to say good-bye to the old familiar scenes, Septima," +she said, making a desperate effort to meet Rex by some means. "I +should like to see the old magnolia-tree down in the glade just once +before I go." + +"Nonsense," replied Septima, sharply, a malicious smile hovering about +the corners of her mouth. "I guess the trees and the flowers won't +wither and die of grief if you don't bid them good-bye; it's too late +now, anyhow. See, here is the stage coming already," she cried, +glancing out of the window, "and here comes John with his valise and +umbrella. Make haste, Daisy; where's your gloves and satchel?" + +For one brief instant Daisy stood irresolute; if she had only dared +cry out to them "I am a bride; it is cruel to send me away from Rex," +what a world of misery might have been spared her! but her lips were +sealed. + +"Well, well," cried John Brooks, hurriedly entering the room; "not +ready yet, little girlie? We must be off at once or we will miss the +train." + +In vain Daisy protested brokenly she could not go, and the agony in +those blue uplifted eyes would have touched a heart of stone. Still +John Brooks believed it would be a sin to comply with her request. Go +to school she must, for Heaven had intended a cultured mind should +accompany so beautiful a face. Half lifting, half carrying the slight +figure in his powerful arms, Daisy was borne, half fainting and +sobbing as though her heart would break, to the vehicle which stood in +waiting. + +On through the fragrant stillness of that sunshiny summer morning the +jolting stage rolled rapidly on its way, crossing the little bridge +where she had lingered only the night before with Rex, her husband; +they would soon reach the alder bushes that skirted the pool. The next +bend in the road would bring her in sight of the magnolia-tree where +Rex would be awaiting her. + +Ah, thank Heaven, it was not too late! she could fling out her arms, +and cry out: "Rex, my love, my darling, they are bearing me from you! +Save me, Rex, my darling, save me!" + +John Brooks sat quietly by her side silently wondering what had come +over little Daisy--sweet, impulsive little Daisy--in a single night. +"She is only a child," he muttered to himself, "full of whims and +caprices; crying her eyes out last week because she could not go off +to school, and now crying because she's got to go." + +Swiftly the stage rolled down the green sloping hill-side; in another +moment it had reached the alder bushes and gained the curve of the +road, and she saw Rex lying on the green grass waiting for her. The +sunlight drifting through the magnolia blossoms fell upon his +handsome, upturned, smiling face and the dark curls pushed back from +his white forehead. "Rex! Rex!" she cried, wringing her white hands, +but the words died away on her white lips, making no sound. Then the +world seemed to close darkly around her, and poor little Daisy, the +unhappy girl-bride, fell back in the coach in a deadly swoon. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +"Poor little Daisy!" cried John Brooks, wiping away a suspicious +moisture from his eyes with his rough, toil-hardened hand, "she takes +it pretty hard now; but the time will come when she will thank me for +it. Heaven knows there's nothing in this world more valuable than an +education; and she will need it, poor little, motherless child!" + +As the stage drove up before the station Daisy opened her blue eyes +with a sigh. "I can at least write to Rex at once," she thought, "and +explain the whole matter to him." Daisy smiled as she thought Rex +would be sure to follow on the very next train. + +John Brooks watched the smile and the flush of the rosy face, and +believed Daisy was beginning to feel more reconciled about going to +school. + +"I hope we will get there by noon," said John, anxiously, taking the +seat beside her on the crowded train. "If we missed the train at the +cross-roads it would be a serious calamity. I should be obliged to +send you on alone; for I _must_ get to New York by night, as I have +some very important business to transact for the plantation which +must be attended to at once." + +"Alone!" echoed Daisy, tremblingly. "Why, Uncle John, I was never away +from home alone in my life!" + +"That's just the difficulty," he answered, perplexedly. "I have always +guarded my little flower from the world's cruel blasts, and you are +unused to the rough side of life." + +"Still, I _could_ go on alone," persisted Daisy, bravely. + +John Brooks laughed outright. + +"You would get lost at the first corner, my girlie! Then I should have +to fly around to these newspaper offices, advertising for the recovery +of a little country Daisy which was either lost, strayed, or stolen. +No, no, little one!" he cried; "I would not trust you alone, a +stranger in a great city. A thousand ills might befall a young girl +with a face like yours." + +"No one would know I was a stranger," replied Daisy, innocently. "I +should simply inquire the way to Madame Whitney's, and follow the +directions given me." + +"There! didn't I tell you you could never find the way?" laughed John +until he was red in the face. "You suppose a city is like our country +lanes, eh?--where you tell a stranger: 'Follow that path until you +come to a sign-post, then that will tell you which road leads to the +village.' Ha! ha! ha! Why, my dear little Daisy, not one person in a +hundred whom you might meet ever heard of Madame Whitney! In cities +people don't know their very neighbors personally. They are sure to +find out if there's any scandal afloat about them--and that is all +they do know about them. You would have a lively time of it finding +Madame Whitney's without your old uncle John to pilot you through, I +can tell you." + +Daisy's last hope was nipped in the bud. She had told herself, if she +were left alone, she could send a telegram back at once to Rex, and he +would join her, and she would not have to go to school--school, which +would separate a girl-bride from her handsome young husband, of whom +she was fast learning to be so fond. + +"I could have sent you under the care of Mr. Stanwick," continued +John, thoughtfully. "He started for the city yesterday--but I did not +receive Madame Whitney's letter in time." + +He did not notice, as he spoke, that the occupant in the seat directly +in front of them gave a perceptible start, drawing the broad slouch +hat he wore, which concealed his features so well, still further over +his face, while a cruel smile lingered for a moment about the handsome +mouth. + +The stranger appeared deeply interested in the columns of the paper he +held before him; but in reality he was listening attentively to the +conversation going on behind him. + +"I shall not lose sight of this pretty little girl," said Lester +Stanwick to himself, for it was he. "No power on earth shall save her +from me. I shall win her from him--by fair means or foul. It will be a +glorious revenge!" + +"Madame Whitney's seminary is a very high-toned institution," +continued John, reflectively; "and the young girls I saw there wore no +end of furbelows and ribbons; but I'll warrant for fresh, sweet beauty +you'll come out ahead of all of 'em, Pet." + +"You think so much of me, dear good old uncle," cried Daisy, +gratefully. "I--I wonder if any one in the world could ever--could +ever care for me as--as you do?" whispered Daisy, laying her soft, +warm cheek against his rough hand. + +"No one but a husband," he responded, promptly. "But you are too young +to have such notions in your head yet awhile. Attend to your books, +and don't think of beaus. Now that we are on the subject, I might as +well speak out what I've had on my mind some time back. I don't want +my little Daisy to fall in love with any of these strangers she +happens to meet. You are too young to know anything about love +affairs. You'll never rightly understand it until it comes to you. I +must know all about the man who wants my little Daisy. Whatever you +do, little one, do upright and honestly. And, above all, never deceive +me. I have often heard of these romantic young school-girls falling in +love with handsome strangers, and clandestine meetings following, +ending in elopements; but, mark my words, no good comes of these +deceptions--forewarned is forearmed. Daisy, you'll always remember my +words, and say to yourself: 'He knows what is best.' You will remember +what I say, won't you, Pet?" + +He wondered why the fair, sweet face grew as pale as a snow-drop, and +the cold little fingers trembled in his clasp, and the velvety eyes +drooped beneath his earnest gaze. + +"Yes," whispered Daisy; "I shall remember what you have said." + +In spite of her efforts to speak naturally and calmly the sweet voice +would tremble. + +"Bal--ti--more!" shouted the brakeman, lustily. "Twenty minutes for +breakfast. Change cars for the north and west!" + +"Ah, here we are!" cried John, hastily gathering up their satchels and +innumerable bundles. "We must make haste to reach the uptown omnibus +to get a seat, or we shall have to stand and cling to the strap all +the way up. I'm an old traveler, you see. There's nothing like knowing +the ins and outs." + +"Have a coach uptown, sir? Take you to any part of the city. Coach, +sir?" cried innumerable hackmen, gathering about them. + +Daisy tightened her hold on John's arm. She quite believed they +intended to pick her up and put her in the coach by main force. One of +them was actually walking off with her reticule. + +"Hold there, young man," cried John, quickly, recovering the satchel. +"Don't make yourself uneasy on our account. We would be pleased to +ride in your conveyance if you don't charge anything. We have no +money." + +The loquacious hackmen fell back as if by magic. Daisy was blushing +like a rose, terribly embarrassed. John Brooks laughed long and +heartily. + +"That's the quickest way in the world to rid yourself of those +torments," he declared, enjoying his little joke hugely. "Why, Daisy, +if you had come on alone some of those chaps would have spirited you +away without even saying so much as 'by your leave.'" + +Mme. Whitney's Seminary for Young Ladies was a magnificent structure, +situated in the suburbs of Baltimore. On either side of the pebbled +walk which led to the main entrance were tall fountains tossing their +rainbow-tinted sprays up to the summer sunshine. The lawn in front was +closely shaven, and through the trees in the rear of the building +could be seen the broad rolling Chesapeake dancing and sparkling in +the sunlight. The reputation of this institution was second to none. +Young ladies were justly proud of being able to say they finished +their education at Mme. Whitney's establishment. + +As a natural consequence, the school was composed of the _elite_ of +the South. Clang! clang! clang! sounded the great bell from the belfry +as Daisy, with a sinking, homesick feeling stealing over her, walked +slowly up the paved walk by John Brooks' side toward the imposing, +aristocratic structure. + +Poor little Daisy never forgot that first day at boarding-school; how +all the dainty young girls in their soft white muslins glanced in +surprise at her when Mme. Whitney brought her into the school-room, +but she could have forgiven them for that if they had not laughed at +her poor old uncle John, in his plain country garb, and they giggled +behind their handkerchiefs when she clung to his neck and could not +say good-bye through her tears, but sunk down into her seat, leaning +her head on her desk, bravely trying to keep back the pearly drops +that would fall. + +When recess came Daisy did not leave her seat. She would have given +the world to have heard Rex's voice just then; she was beginning to +realize how much his sheltering love was to her. She would even have +been heartily glad to have been back in the little kitchen at the +cottage, no matter how much Septima scolded her. + +All the girls here had the same haughty way of tossing their heads and +curling their lips and looking innumerable things out of their eyes, +which reminded Daisy so strongly of Pluma Hurlhurst. + +Most of the girls had left the school-room, dividing off into groups +and pairs here and there. Daisy sat watching them, feeling wretchedly +lonely. Suddenly a soft white hand was laid lightly on her shoulder, +and a sweet voice said: + +"We have a recess of fifteen minutes, won't you come out into the +grounds with me? I should be so pleased to have you come." The voice +was so gentle, so coaxing, so sweet, Daisy involuntarily glanced up at +the face of the young girl bending over her as she arose to accompany +her. She put her arm around Daisy's waist, school-girl fashion, as +they walked down the lone halls and out to the green grassy lawn. "My +name is Sara Miller," she said; "will you tell me yours?" + +"Daisy Brooks," she answered, simply. + +"What a pretty name!" cried her new-found friend, enthusiastically, +"and how well it suits you! Why, it is a little poem in itself." + +Daisy flushed as rosy as the crimson geraniums near them, remembering +Rex, her own handsome Rex, had said the same thing that morning he had +carried her heavy basket to the gates of Whitestone Hall--that morning +when all the world seemed to change as she glanced up into his merry +brown eyes. + +"We are to be room-mates," explained Sara, "and I know I shall like +you ever so much. Do you think you will like me?" + +"Yes," said Daisy. "I like you now." + +"Thank you," said Miss Sara, making a mock courtesy. "I am going to +love you with all my might, and if you don't love me you will be the +most ungrateful creature in the world. I know just how lonesome you +must be," continued Sara. "I remember just how lonesome I was the +first day I was away from mamma, and when night set in and I was all +alone, and I knew I was securely locked in, I was actually thinking of +tearing the sheets of my bed into strips and making a rope of them, +and letting myself down to the ground through the window, and making +for home as fast as I could. I knew I would be brought back the next +day, though," laughed Sara. "Mamma is so strict with me. I suppose +yours is too?" + +"I have no mother--or father," answered Daisy. "All my life I have +lived with John Brooks and his sister Septima, on the Hurlhurst +Plantation. I call them aunt and uncle. Septima has often told me no +relationship at all existed between us." + +"You are an orphan, then?" suggested the sympathetic Sara. "Is there +no one in all the world related to you?" + +"Yes--no--o," answered Daisy, confusedly, thinking of Rex, her young +husband, and of the dearest relationship in all the world which +existed between them. + +"What a pity," sighed Sara. "Well, Daisy," she cried, impulsively, +throwing both her arms around her and giving her a hearty kiss, "you +and I will be all the world to each other. I shall tell you all my +secrets and you must tell me yours. There's some girls you can trust, +and some you can't. If you tell them your secrets, the first time you +have a spat your secret is a secret no longer. Every girl in the +school knows all about it; of course you are sure to make up again. +But," added Sara, with a wise expression, "after you are once +deceived, you can never trust them again." + +"I have never known many girls," replied Daisy. "I do not know how +others do, but I'm sure you can always trust my friendship." + +And the two girls sealed their compact with a kiss, just as the great +bell in the belfry rang, warning them they must be at their lessons +again--recess was over. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +In one of the private offices of Messrs. Tudor, Peck & Co., the shrewd +Baltimore detectives, stood Rex, waiting patiently until the senior +member of the firm should be at leisure. + +"Now, my dear sir, I will attend you with pleasure," said Mr. Tudor, +sealing and dispatching the note he had just finished, and motioning +Rex to a seat. + +"I shall be pleased if you will permit me to light a cigar," said Rex, +taking the seat indicated. + +"Certainly, certainly; smoke, if you feel so inclined, by all means," +replied the detective, watching with a puzzled twinkle in his eye the +fair, boyish face of his visitor. "No, thank you," he said, as Rex +tendered him an Havana; "I never smoke during business hours." + +"I wish to engage your services to find out the whereabouts +of--of--of--my wife," said Rex, hesitatingly. "She has left +me--suddenly--she fled--on the very night of our marriage!" + +It hurt Rex's pride cruelly to make this admission, and a painful +flush crept up into the dark rings of hair lying on his white +forehead. + +Mr. Tudor was decidedly amazed. He could not realize how any sane +young woman could leave so handsome a young fellow as the one before +him. In most cases the shoe was on the other foot; but he was too +thoroughly master of his business to express surprise in his face. He +merely said: + +"Go on, sir; go on!" + +And Rex did go on, never sparing himself in describing how he urged +Daisy to marry him on the night of the fete, and of their parting, and +the solemn promise to meet on the morrow, and of his wild grief--more +bitter than death--when he had found the cottage empty. + +"It reads like the page of a romance," said Rex, with a dreary smile, +leaning his head on his white hand. "But I must find her!" he cried, +with energy. "I shall search the world over for her. If it takes every +cent of my fortune, I shall find Daisy!" + +Rex looked out of the window at the soft, fleecy clouds overhead, +little dreaming Daisy was watching those self-same clouds, scarcely a +stone's throw from the very spot where he sat, and at that moment he +was nearer Daisy than he would be for perhaps years again, for the +strong hand of Fate was slowly but surely drifting them asunder. + +For some moments neither spoke. + +"Perhaps," said Mr. Tudor, breaking the silence, "there was a previous +lover in the case?" + +"I am sure there was not!" said Rex, eagerly. + +Still the idea was new to him. He adored Daisy with a mad, idolatrous +adoration, almost amounting to worship, and a love so intense is +susceptible to the poisonous breath of jealousy, and jealousy ran in +Rex's veins. He could not endure the thought of Daisy's--his +Daisy's--eyes brightening or her cheek flushing at the approach of a +rival--that fair, flower-like face, sweet and innocent as a +child's--Daisy, whom he so madly loved. + +"Well," said Mr. Tudor, as Rex arose to depart, "I will do all I can +for you. Leave your address, please, in case I should wish to +communicate with you." + +"I think I shall go back to Allendale, remaining there at least a +month or so. I have a strong conviction Daisy might come back, or at +least write to me there." + +Mr. Tudor jotted down the address, feeling actually sorry for the +handsome young husband clinging to such a frail straw of hope. In his +own mind, long before Rex had concluded his story, he had settled his +opinion--that from some cause the young wife had fled from him with +some rival, bitterly repenting her mad, hasty marriage. + +"I have great faith in your acknowledged ability," said Rex, grasping +Mr. Tudor's outstretched hand. "I shall rest my hopes upon your +finding Daisy. I can not, will not, believe she is false. I would as +soon think of the light of heaven playing me false as my sweet little +love!" + + * * * * * + +The dark mantle of night had folded its dusky wings over the inmates +of the seminary. All the lights were out in the young ladies' +rooms--as the nine-o'clock call, "All lights out!" had been called +some ten minutes before--all the lights save one, flickering, dim, and +uncertain, from Daisy's window. + +"Oh, dear!" cried Daisy, laying her pink cheek down on the letter she +was writing to Rex, "I feel as though I could do something _very_ +desperate to get away from here--and--and--back to Rex. Poor fellow!" +she sighed, "I wonder what he thought, as the hours rolled by and I +did not come? Of course he went over to the cottage," she mused, "and +Septima must have told him where I had gone. Rex will surely come for +me to-morrow," she told herself, with a sweet, shy blush. + +She read and reread the letter her trembling little hands had penned +with many a heart-flutter. It was a shy, sweet little letter, +beginning with "Dear Mr. Rex," and ending with, "Yours sincerely, +Daisy." It was just such a dear, timid letter as many a pure, +fresh-hearted loving young girl would write, brimful of the love which +filled her guileless heart for her handsome, debonair Rex--with many +allusions to the secret between them which weighed so heavily on her +heart, sealing her lips for his dear sake. + +After sealing and directing her precious letter, and placing it in the +letter-bag which hung at the lower end of the corridor, Daisy hurried +back to her own apartment and crept softly into her little white bed, +beside Sara, and was soon fast asleep, dreaming of Rex and a dark, +haughty, scornful face falling between them and the sunshine--the +cold, mocking face of Pluma Hurlhurst. + +Mme. Whitney, as was her custom, always looked over the out-going +mail early in the morning, sealing the letters of which she approved, +and returning, with a severe reprimand, those which did not come up to +the standard of her ideas. + +"What is this?" she cried, in amazement, turning the letter Daisy had +written in her hand. "Why, I declare, it is actually sealed!" Without +the least compunction she broke the seal, grimly scanning its contents +from beginning to end. If there was anything under the sun the madame +abominated it was love-letters. + +It was an established fact that no tender _billets-doux_ found their +way from the academy; the argus-eyed madame was too watchful for +that. + +With a lowering brow, she gave the bell-rope a hasty pull. + +"Jenkins," she said to the servant answering her summons, "send Miss +Brooks to me here at once!" + +"Poor little thing!" cried the sympathetic Jenkins to herself. "I +wonder what in the world is amiss now? There's fire in the madame's +eye. I hope she don't intend to scold poor little Daisy Brooks." +Jenkins had taken a violent fancy to the sweet-faced, golden-haired, +timid young stranger. + +"It must be something terrible, I'm sure!" cried Sara, when she heard +the madame had sent for Daisy; while poor Daisy's hand trembled +so--she could scarcely tell why--that she could hardly bind up the +golden curls that fell down to her waist in a wavy, shining sheen. + +Daisy never once dreamed her letter was the cause of her unexpected +summons, until she entered Mme. Whitney's presence and saw it +opened--yes, opened--her own sacred, loving letter to Rex--in her +hand. + +Daisy was impulsive, and her first thought was to grasp her precious +letter and flee to her own room. How dared the madame open the +precious letter she had intended only for Rex's eyes! + +"Miss Brooks," began madame, impressively, "I suppose I am right in +believing this epistle belongs to you?" + +A great lump rose in Daisy's throat. + +"Yes, madame," answered Daisy, raising her dark-blue eyes pleadingly +to the stern face before her. + +"And may I ask by what right you dared violate the rules and +regulations of this establishment by sending a sealed letter to--a +man? Your guardian strictly informed me you had no correspondents +whatever, and I find this is a--I blush to confess it--actually a +love-letter. What have you to say in reference to your folly, Miss +Brooks?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," sobbed Daisy. + +"You don't know?" repeated madame, scornfully. "Not a very satisfactory +explanation. Well, Miss Brooks, I have fully determined what steps I +shall take in the matter. I shall read this letter this morning before +the whole school; it will afford me an excellent opportunity to point +out the horrible depths to which young girls are plunged by allowing +their minds to wander from their books to such thoughts as are here +expressed. What do you mean by this secret to which you allude so +often?" she asked, suddenly. + +"Please do not ask me, madame," sobbed Daisy; "I can not tell +you--indeed I can not. I dare not!" + +An alarming thought occurred to madame. + +"Speak, girl!" she cried, hoarsely, grasping her firmly by the +shoulder. "I must know the meaning of this secret which is so +appalling. You fear to reveal it! Does your guardian know of it?" + +"No--o!" wailed Daisy; "I could not tell him. I must keep the +secret." + +Poor little innocent Daisy! her own words had convicted her beyond all +pardon in the eyes of shrewd, suspicious Mme. Whitney, who guessed, as +is usually the case, wide of the mark, as to the cause of the secret +Daisy dare not to reveal to her guardian or herself. + +"My duty is plain in this case," said madame. "I shall read this as a +terrible warning to the young ladies of this institution; then I will +send for Mr. John Brooks, your guardian, and place this letter in his +hands." + +"Oh, no, madame, in pity's name, no!" sobbed Daisy, wildly, kneeling +imploringly at her feet, her heart beating tumultuously, and her hands +locked convulsively together. "Do not, madame, I pray you; anything +but that; he would cast me out of his heart and home, and I--I could +not go to Rex, you see." + +But madame did not see. She laughed a little hard, metallic laugh that +grated, oh, so cruelly, on Daisy's sensitive nerves. + +When one woman's suspicions are aroused against another, Heaven help +the suspected one; there is little mercy shown her. + +"Man's inhumanity to man" is nothing compared to woman's inhumanity to +woman. + +Mme. Whitney had discovered a capital way to score a hit in the +direction of morality. + +"No," she said, laying the letter down on the table before her. "Arise +from your knees, Miss Brooks. Your prayers are useless. I think this +will be a life-long lesson to you." + +"Oh, madame, for the love of Heaven!" cried Daisy, rocking herself to +and fro, "spare me, I beseech you! Can nothing alter your purpose?" + +"Well," said madame, reflectively, "I may not be quite so severe with +you if you will confess, unreservedly, the whole truth concerning this +terrible secret, and what this young man Rex is to you." + +"I can not," wailed Daisy, "I can not. Oh, my heart is breaking, yet I +dare not." + +"Very well," said madame, rising, indicating the conversation was at +an end, "I shall not press you further on the subject. I will excuse +you now, Miss Brooks. You may retire to your room." + +Still Daisy rocked herself to and fro on her knees at her feet. +Suddenly a daring thought occurred to her. The letter which had caused +her such bitter woe lay on the table almost within her very grasp--the +letter, every line of which breathed of her pure, sacred love for +Rex--her Rex--whom she dared not even claim. She could imagine madame +commenting upon every word and sentence, ridiculing those tender +expressions which had been such rapturous joy to her hungry little +heart as she had penned them. And, last of all, and far the most +bitter thought, how dear old John Brooks would turn his honest eyes +upon her tell-tale face, demanding to know what the secret was--the +secret which she had promised her young husband she would not reveal, +come what would. If his face should grow white and stern, and those +lips, which had blessed, praised, and petted, but never scolded +her--if those lips should curse her, she would die then and there at +his feet. In an instant she had resolved upon a wild, hazardous plan. +Quick as a flash of lightning Daisy sprung to her feet and tore the +coveted letter from madame's detaining grasp; the door stood open, and +with the fleetness of a hunted deer she flew down the corridor, never +stopping for breath until she had gained the very water's edge. + +Mme. Whitney gave a loud shriek and actually fainted, and the +attendant, who hurried to the scene, caught but a glimpse of a white, +terrified, beautiful face, and a cloud of flying golden hair. No one +in that establishment ever gazed upon the face of Daisy Brooks again! + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +"Where is Miss Brooks?" cried Mme. Whitney, excitedly, upon opening +her eyes. "Jenkins," she cried, motioning to the attendant who stood +nearest her, "see that Miss Brooks is detained in her own room under +lock and key until I am at liberty to attend to her case." + +The servants looked at one another in blank amazement. No one dared +tell her Daisy had fled. + +The torn envelope, which Daisy had neglected to gain possession of, +lay at her feet. + +With a curious smile Mme. Whitney smoothed it out carefully, and +placed it carefully away in her private desk. + +"Rex Lyon," she mused, knitting her brow. "Ah, yes, that was the name, +I believe. He must certainly be the one. Daisy Brooks shall suffer +keenly for this outrage," cried the madame, grinding her teeth with +impotent rage. "I shall drag her pride down to the very dust beneath +my feet. How dare the little rebel defy my orders? I shall have her +removed to the belfry-room; a night or two there will humble her +pride, I dare say," fumed the madame, pacing up and down the room. "I +have brought worse tempers than hers into subjection; still I never +dreamed the little minx would dare openly defy _me_ in that manner. I +shall keep her in the belfry-room, under lock and key, until she asks +my pardon on her bended knees; and what is more, I shall wrest the +secret from her--the secret she has defied me to discover." + + * * * * * + +On sped Daisy, as swift as the wind, crushing the fatal letter in her +bosom, until she stood at the very edge of the broad, glittering +Chesapeake. The rosy-gold rays of the rising sun lighted up the waves +with a thousand arrowy sparkles like a vast sea of glittering, waving +gold. Daisy looked over her shoulder, noting the dark forms hurrying +to and fro. + +"They are searching for me," she said, "but I will never go back to +them--never!" + +She saw a man's form hurrying toward her. At that moment she beheld, +moored in the shadow of a clump of alders at her very feet, a small +boat rocking to and fro with the tide. Daisy had a little boat of her +own at home; she knew how to use the oars. + +"They will never think of looking for me out on the water," she cried, +triumphantly, and quickly untying it, she sprung into the little +skiff, and seizing the oars, with a vigorous stroke the little shell +shot rapidly out into the shimmering water, Daisy never once pausing +in her mad, impetuous flight until the dim line of the shore was +almost indistinguishable from the blue arching dome of the horizon. +"There," she cried, flushed and excited, leaning on the oars; "no one +could possibly think of searching for me out here." + +Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes danced like stars, while the +freshening breeze blew her bright shining hair to and fro. + +Many a passing fisherman cast admiring glances at the charming little +fairy, so sweet and so daring, out all alone on the smiling, +treacherous, dancing waves so far away from the shore. But if Daisy +saw them, she never heeded them. + +"I shall stay here until it is quite dark," she said to herself; "they +will have ceased to look for me by that time. I can reach the shore +quite unobserved, and watch for Sara to get my hat and sacque; and +then"--a rosy flush stole up to the rings of her golden hair as she +thought what she would do then--"I shall go straight back to Rex--my +husband!" + +She knew John Brooks would not return home for some time to come, and +she would not go back to Septima. She made up her mind she would +certainly go to Rex. She would wait at the depot, and, if Rex did not +come in on the early train, she would go back at once to Allendale. +Her purse, with twenty dollars in it--which seemed quite a fortune to +Daisy--was luckily in her pocket, together with half of an apple and a +biscuit. The healthful exercise of rowing, together with the fresh, +cool breeze, gave Daisy a hearty appetite, and the apple and biscuit +afforded her quite a pleasant lunch. + +Poor Daisy! The pretty little girl-bride had no more thought of danger +than a child. She had no premonition that every moment the little +boat, drifting rapidly along with the tide, was bearing her rapidly +onward toward death and destruction. + +Daisy paid little heed to the dark rolling clouds that were slowly +obscuring the brilliant sunshine, or the swirl and dash of the waves +that were rocking her little boat so restlessly to and fro. The hours +seemed to slip heedlessly by her. The soft gloaming seemed to fall +about her swiftly and without warning. + +"I must turn my boat about at once!" cried Daisy, in alarm. "I am +quite a long way from the shore!" + +At that moment the distant rumbling roar of thunder sounded dismally +over the leaden-gray, white-capped water; and the wind, rising +instantly into a fierce gale, hurled the dark storm-clouds across the +sky, blotting the lurid glow of sunset and mantling the heavens above +her in its dusky folds. + +Daisy was brave of heart, but in the face of such sudden and +unlooked-for danger her courage failed her. The pretty rose-bloom +died away from her face, and her beautiful blue eyes expanded wide +with terror. She caught her breath with a sob, and, seizing the oar +with two soft, childish hands, made a desperate attempt to turn the +boat. The current resisted her weak effort, snapping the oar in twain +like a slender twig and whirling it from her grasp. + +"Rex! Rex!" she cried out, piteously, stretching out her arms, "save +me! Oh, I am lost--lost! Heaven pity me!" + +The night had fallen swiftly around her. Out, alone, on the wild, +pitiless, treacherous waves--alone with the storm and the darkness! + +The storm had now commenced in earnest, beating furiously against the +little boat, and lashing the mad waves into seething foam as they +dashed high above the terrified girl. No sound could be heard above +the wild warring of the elements--the thunder's roar, the furious +lashing of the waves and the white, radiant lightning blazing across +the vast expanse of water, making the scene sublime in its terrible +grandeur. + +"Rex! my love, my life!" she cried, in the intense agony of despair, +"you will never know how well I loved you! I have faced death rather +than betray the sweet, sad secret--I am your wife!" + +Was it the wild flashing of the lightning, or was it a red light she +saw swinging to and fro, each moment drawing rapidly nearer and +nearer? Heaven be praised! it was a barge of some kind; help was +within her reach. + +"Help!" cried Daisy, faintly. "Help! I am alone out on the water!" she +held out her arms toward the huge vessel which loomed up darkly before +her, but the terrified voice was drowned by the fierce beating of the +storm. + +Suddenly her little boat spun round and round, the swift water was +drawing her directly in the path of the barge; another moment and it +would be upon her; she beat the air with her white hands, gazing with +frozen horror at the fatal lights drawing nearer and nearer. + +"Rex, my love, good-bye!" she wailed, sinking down in the bottom of +the boat as one end of the barge struck it with tremendous force. + + * * * * * + +Leaning over the railing, evidently unmindful of the fierce fury +of the storm that raged around him, stood a young man, gazing +abstractedly over the wild dashing waves. A dark smile played about +the corners of his mouth, and his restless eyes wore a pleased +expression, as though his thoughts were in keeping with the wild, +warring elements. + +Suddenly, through the terrible roar of the storm, he heard a piteous +appeal for help, and the voice seemed to die away over the angry, +muttering waves. He leaned over the railing breathless with +excitement. The thunder crashed almost incessantly, and there came a +stunning bolt, followed by a blinding blaze of lightning. In that one +instant he had seen a white, childish face, framed in a mass of +floating golden hair, turned toward him. + +One instant more and she would be swept beneath the ponderous wheel, +beyond all mortal power of help; then the dark, hungry waters closed +cruelly over her, but in that one instantaneous glance the man's face +had turned deadly pale. + +"Great God!" he shrieked, hoarsely, "it is Daisy Brooks!" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +On the evening which followed the one just described in our last +chapter, Pluma Hurlhurst sat in her luxuriant boudoir of rose and +gold, deeply absorbed in the three letters which she held in her lap. +To one was appended the name of Septima Brooks, one was from Rex's +mother, and the last--and by far the most important one--bore the +signature of Lester Stanwick. + +Once, twice, thrice she perused it, each time with growing interest, +the glittering light deepening in her dark, flashing eyes, and the red +lips curling in a scornful smile. + +"This is capital!" she cried, exultingly; "even better than I had +planned. I could not see my way clear before, but now everything is +clear sailing." She crossed over to the mirror, looking long and +earnestly at the superb figure reflected there. "I am fair to look +upon," she cried, bitterly. "Why can not Rex love me?" + +Ah! she was fair to look upon, standing beneath the softened glow of +the overhanging chandelier, in her dress of gold brocade, with a +pomegranate blossom on her bosom, and a diamond spray flashing from +the dark, glossy curls, magnificently beautiful. + +"I was so sure of Rex," she said, bitterly; "if any one had said to +me, 'Rex prefers your overseer's niece, Daisy Brooks, with her baby +face and pink-and-white beauty,' I would have laughed them to scorn. +Prefers her to me, the haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, for whose +love, or even smile, men have sued in vain! I have managed the whole +affair very cleverly!" she mused. "John Brooks does not return before +the coming spring, and Septima is removed from my path most +effectually, and if Lester Stanwick manages his part successfully, I +shall have little to fear from Daisy Brooks! How clever Lester was to +learn Rex had been to the Detective Agency! How he must have loved +that girl!" she cried, hotly, with a darkening brow. "Ah, Rex!" she +whispered, softly (and for an instant the hard look died out of her +face), "no one shall take you from me. I would rather look upon your +face cold in death, and know no one else could claim you, than see you +smile lovingly upon a rival. There is no torture under heaven so +bitter to endure as the pangs of a love unreturned!" she cried, +fiercely. She threw open the window and leaned far out into the +radiant starlight, as the great clock pealed the hour of seven. "Rex +has received my note," she said, "with the one from his mother +inclosed. Surely he will not refuse my request. He will come, if only +through politeness!" Again she laughed, that low, mocking laugh +peculiar to her, as she heard the peal of the bell. "It is Rex," she +whispered, clasping her hands over her beating heart. "To-night I will +sow the first seeds of distrust in your heart, and when they take root +you shall despise Daisy Brooks a thousand-fold more than you love her +now. She shall feel the keen thrust of a rival's bitter vengeance!" + +Casting a last lingering glance (so woman-like!) at the perfect face +the mirror reflected, to give her confidence in herself for the coming +ordeal, Pluma Hurlhurst glided down to the parlor, where Rex awaited +her. + +It would have been hard to believe the proud, willful, polished young +heiress could lend herself to a plot so dark and so cruel as the one +she was at that moment revolving in her fertile brain. + +Rex was standing at the open window, his handsome head leaning wearily +against the casement. His face was turned partially toward her, and +Pluma could scarcely repress the cry of astonishment that rose to her +lips as she saw how pale and haggard he looked in the softened light. +She knew but too well the cause. + +He was quite unaware of Pluma's presence until a soft, white, jeweled +hand was laid lightly on his arm, and a low, musical voice whispered, +"I am so glad you have come, Rex," close to his elbow. + +They had parted under peculiar circumstances. He could fancy her at +that moment kneeling to him, under the glare of the lamp-light, +confessing her love for him, and denouncing poor little clinging Daisy +with such bitter scorn. His present position was certainly an +embarrassing one to Rex. + +"I am here in accordance with your request, Miss Hurlhurst," he said, +simply, bowing coldly over the white hand that would cling to his +arm. + +"You are very kind," she said, sweetly, "to forget that unpleasant +little episode that happened at the fete, and come to-night. I believe +I should never have sent for you," she added, archly, smiling up into +his face, "had it not been at the urgent request of your mother, +Rex." + +Pluma hesitated. Rex bit his lip in annoyance, but he was too +courteous to openly express his thoughts; he merely bowed again. He +meant Pluma should understand all thoughts of love or tenderness must +forever more be a dead letter between them. + +"My mother!" he repeated, wonderingly; "pardon me, I do not +understand." + +For answer she drew his mother's letter from her bosom and placed it +in his hands. + +He ran his eyes quickly over the page. The postscript seemed to +enlighten him. + +"The course of true love never runs smooth," it ran, "and I beseech +you, Pluma dear, if anything should ever happen, any shadow fall upon +your love, I beseech you send for Rex and place this letter in his +hands. It would not be unwomanly, Pluma, because I, his mother, so +earnestly request it; for, on your love for each other hangs my hopes +of happiness. Rex is impulsive and willful, but he will respect his +mother's wishes." + +No thought of treachery ever crossed Rex's mind as he read the lines +before him; he never once dreamed the ingeniously worded postscript +had been so cleverly imitated and added by Pluma's own hand. It never +occurred to him for an instant to doubt the sincerity of the words he +read, when he knew how dearly his mother loved the proud, haughty +heiress before him. + +"I heard you were going away, Rex," she said, softly, "and I--I could +not let you go so, and break my own heart." + +"In one sense, I am glad you sent for me," said Rex, quietly ignoring +her last remark. "I shall be much pleased to renew our friendship, +Miss Pluma, for I need your friendship--nay, more, I need your +sympathy and advice more than I can express. I have always endeavored +to be frank with you, Pluma," he said, kindly. "I have never spoken +words which might lead you to believe I loved you." + +He saw her face grow white under his earnest gaze and the white lace +on her bosom rise and fall convulsively, yet she made him no answer. + +"Please permit me to tell you why, Pluma," he said, taking her hand +and leading her to a sofa, taking a seat by her side. "I could not," +he continued, "in justice to either you or myself; for I never knew +what love was," he said, softly, "until the night of the fete." Again +he paused; but, as no answer was vouchsafed him, he went on: "I never +knew what love meant until I met Daisy--little Daisy Brooks." + +"Rex!" cried Pluma, starting to her feet, "you know not what you +say--surely you do not know! I would have warned you, but you would +not listen. I saw you drifting toward a yawning chasm; I stretched out +my arms to save you, but you would not heed me. You are a stranger to +the people around here, Rex, or they would have warned you. Sin is +never so alluring as in the guise of a beautiful woman. It is not too +late yet. Forget Daisy Brooks; she is not a fit companion for noble +Rex Lyon, or pure enough to kiss an honest man's lips." + +"For God's sake, Miss Hurlhurst, what do you mean?" cried Rex, slowly +rising from his seat and facing her, pale as death. "In Heaven's name, +explain the accusations you have just uttered, or I shall go mad! If a +man had uttered those words, I would have--" + +The words died away on his lips; he remembered he was talking to a +woman. Rex's eyes fairly glowed with rage as he turned on his heel and +strode rapidly up and down the room. + +"Rex," said Pluma, softly advancing a step toward him, "it always +grieves a true woman to admit the error of a fallen sister--they would +shield her if such a thing were possible." + +"I do not believe it," retorted Rex, impetuously. "Women seem to take +a keen delight in slandering one another, as far as I can see. But you +might as well tell me yonder moon was treacherous and vile as to tell +me Daisy Brooks was aught but sweet and pure--you could not force me +to believe it." + +"I do not attempt to force you to believe it. I have told you the +truth, as a loving sister might have done. None are so blind as those +who will not see," she said, toying with the jewels upon her white +fingers. + +"Daisy Brooks is as pure as yonder lily," cried Rex, "and I love her +as I love my soul!" + +His quivering, impassioned voice thrilled Pluma to her heart's core, +and she felt a keen regret that this wealth of love was withheld from +her own hungry heart. Rex had never appeared so noble, so handsome, +so well worth winning, in her eyes, as at that moment. + +"I am sorry for you, Rex," sobbed Pluma, artfully burying her face in +her lace kerchief, "because she can never return your love; she does +not love you, Rex." + +"Yes, she does love me," cried Rex. "I have settled it beyond a +doubt." + +"She has settled it beyond a doubt--is not that what you mean, Rex?" +she asked, looking him squarely in the face, with a peculiar glitter +in her sparkling dark eyes. + +"There is something you are keeping from me, Pluma," cried Rex, +seizing both of her hands, and gazing anxiously into the false, fair, +smiling, treacherous face. "You know where Daisy has gone--in Heaven's +name, tell me! I can not endure the suspense--do not torture me, +Pluma! I will forget you have spoken unkindly of poor little Daisy if +you will only tell me where she has gone." + +"Sit down, Rex," she said, soothingly; "I will not dare tell you while +you look at me with such a gleaming light in your eyes. Promise not to +interrupt me to the end." + +A nameless dread was clutching at his heart-strings. What could she +mean? he asked himself, confusedly. What did this foul mystery mean? +He must know, or he would go mad! + +"You may speak out unreservedly, Miss Pluma," he said, hoarsely. "I +give you my word, as a gentleman, I shall not interrupt you, even +though your words should cause me a bitter heart-pang." + +He stood before her, his arms folded across his breast, yet no pang of +remorse crept into Pluma Hurlhurst's relentless heart for the cruel +blow she was about to deal him. + +"I must begin at the time of the lawn fete," she said. "That morning +a woman begged to see me, sobbing so piteously I could not refuse +her an audience. No power of words could portray the sad story of +suffering and wrong she poured into my ears, of a niece--beautiful, +young, passionate, and willful--and of her prayers and useless +expostulations, and of a handsome, dissolute lover to whom the +girl was passionately attached, and of elopements she had frustrated, +alas! more than once. Ah! how shall I say it!--the lover was not a +marrying man." + +Pluma stopped short, and hid her face again in her kerchief as if in +utter confusion. + +"Go on--go on!" cried Rex, hoarsely. + +"'Lend me money,' cried the woman, 'that I may protect the girl by +sending her off to school at once. Kind lady, she is young, like +you, and I beg you on my knees!' I gave the woman the required +amount, and the girl was taken to school the very next day. But the +end was not there. The lover followed the girl--there must have been +a preconcerted plan between them--and on the morning after she had +entered school she fled from it--fled with her lover. That lover +was Lester Stanwick--gay, fascinating, perfidious Lester--whom you +know but too well. Can you not guess who the girl was, Rex?" + +The dark eyes regarding her were frozen with horror, his white lips +moved, but no sound issued from them. She leaned nearer to him, her +dark, perfumed hair swept across his face as she whispered, with +startling effect: + +"The girl was Daisy Brooks, and she is at this moment in company with +her lover! Heaven pity you, Rex; you must learn to forget her." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +When Daisy Brooks opened her eyes, she found herself lying on a white +bed, and in a strange apartment which she never remembered having seen +before. For one brief instant she quite imagined the terrible ordeal +through which she had passed was but a dream. Then it all came back to +her with cruel distinctness. + +"Where am I?" she cried, struggling up to a sitting posture, and +putting back the tangled golden hair from her face. "How came I here? +Who saved me from the terrible dark water?" + +"I did," answered a young man, rising from his seat by the open +window. "I saved your life at the risk of my own. Look up into my +face, Daisy, and see if you do not remember me." + +She lifted her blue eyes to the dark, handsome, smiling face before +her. Yes, she had seen that face before, but she could not remember +where. + +He laughed, disclosing his handsome white teeth. + +"You can not guess, eh?" he said. "Then it is certainly evident I did +not make much of an impression upon you. I am disappointed. I will not +keep you in suspense, however. We met at Whitestone Hall, on the night +of the lawn fete, and my name is Lester Stanwick." + +Ah, she _did_ remember him, standing beneath a waving palm-tree, his +bold, dark eyes following her every motion, while she was waltzing +with Rex. + +He saw the flash of recognition in her eyes, and the blush that +mantled her fair, sweet face. + +"I am very grateful to you, sir, for saving me. But won't you take me +home, please? I don't want to go back to Madame Whitney's." + +"Of course not," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, "when you left +it in such a remarkable manner as running away." + +"How did you know I ran away?" asked Daisy, flushing hotly. + +"Madame Whitney has advertised for you," he responded, promptly. + +Although he well knew what he uttered was a deliberate falsehood, he +merely guessed the little wild bird had grown weary of the restraint, +and had flown away. + +"Did she do that?" asked Daisy, thoroughly alarmed, her great blue +eyes dilating with fear. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, what shall I do? I do not +want to go back. I would sooner die first." + +"There is no occasion for you to do either," he replied. "You are in +good hands. Stay here until the storm blows over. In all probability +the madame has sent detectives out in all directions searching for +you." + +Daisy was so young, so unsuspecting, so artless, and knew so little of +the ways of the world or its intriguing people that she quite believed +his assertion. + +"Oh, what shall I do?" she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. +"Oh, I _must_ go back to Uncle John, and--to--to--" + +Stanwick had no idea she meant Rex. He took it for granted she meant +John Brooks and Septima. + +"It is quite uncertain when John Brooks returns to Allendale," he +said; "and I suppose you are aware his sister has also left the +place--gone, no one knows whither--the Brookses' cottage on the brow +of the hill stands empty." + +"Gone!" cried Daisy, catching her breath swift and hard, "did you say, +sir? Aunt Septima has gone--no one lives in the cottage?" Poor Daisy +quite believed she was losing her senses. + +"Yes," said Stanwick, smothering a low, malicious laugh, "that is what +I said; but I am quite surprised that it is news to you. You are all +alone in the world, you see. Of course you could not go back to +Allendale. You can do no better than stay in your present quarters for +at least a week or so, until you fully recover from your mad frolic on +the water and gain a little strength." + + * * * * * + +"Where am I?" asked Daisy, "and how did I get here? and who lives +here?" + +"One question at a time, if you please," laughed Stanwick, gazing +admiringly at the beautiful, questioning, eager face. + +"I suppose," he began, with provoking coolness, "you have been filling +that little head of yours with romantic ideas of running away from +school, and sailing far out to sea, and straight into the arms of some +handsome hero who would save you, and would carry you off to some +castle, and turn out to be a prince in disguise! That's the way they +usually turn out, isn't it? But you found the theory did not work very +well in real life, and your little romance came near costing you your +life--eh, Miss Daisy? As for the second question, I rescued you, just +in the nick of time, by jumping into the turbulent waves and bearing +you out of harm's way and keeping that little romantic head of yours +above water until the barge could be stopped, and you were then +brought on board. I recognized you at once," he continued; "and to +prevent suspicion and inquiry, which would have been sure to follow, I +claimed you--as my wife! Do not be alarmed," he said, as a sharp, +horrified cry rose to the red lips. "I simply did that in order to +protect you from being returned at once in bitter disgrace to Madame +Whitney's. Not knowing what else to do with you when the boat landed, +I brought you here, and here you have been ever since, quite +unconscious up to date." + +"Was it last night you brought me here?" asked Daisy. + +"You are not good at guessing. You have been here two nights and two +days." + +"But who lives here?" persisted Daisy. "Is this your house?" + +"Oh, dear, no," laughed Stanwick. "Upon my honor, you are not very +complimentary to my taste," he said, glancing around the meagerly +furnished apartment. "As near as I can understand it, the house is +occupied by three grim old maids. Each looks to be the twin of the +other. This was the first shelter I could find, and I had carried you +all the way from the boat in my arms, and under the circumstances, +after much consulting, they at last agreed to allow you to remain +here. Now you have the whole story in a nutshell." + +"Why did they not send to Septima to come to me?" she asked +presently. + +"Because they thought you were with your best protector--your +husband." + +"Did you tell them that here, too?" asked Daisy, growing white and ill +with a dizzy horror. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, send for them at once, and +tell them it is not so, or I must!" she added, desperately. + +"You must do nothing of the kind, you silly child. Do you suppose they +would have sheltered you for a single instant if they had not believed +you were my wife? You do not know the ways of the world. Believe me, +it was the only course I could pursue, in that awkward dilemma, +without bringing disgrace and detection upon you." + +As if in answer to the question that was trembling upon Daisy's lips, +he continued: + +"I am stopping at a boarding-place some little distance from here. +This is not Baltimore, but a little station some sixty miles from +there. When you are well and strong you may go where you please, +although I frankly own the situation is by no means an unpleasant one +for me. I would be willing to stay here always--with you." + +"Sir!" cried Daisy, flushing as red as the climbing roses against the +window, her blue eyes blazing up with sudden fire, "do you mean to +insult me?" + +"By no means," responded Lester Stanwick, eagerly. "Indeed, I respect +and honor you too much for that. Why, I risked my life to save yours, +and shielded your honor with my name. Had I been your husband in very +truth I could not have done more." + +Daisy covered her face with her hands. + +"I thank you very much for saving me," she sobbed, "but won't you +please go away now and leave me to myself?" + +_Roue_ and villain as Lester Stanwick was, he could not help feeling +touched by the innocence and beauty of little Daisy, and from that +instant he loved her with a wild, absorbing, passionate love, and he +made a vow, then and there, that he would win her. + +From their boyhood up Rex and Lester had been rivals. At college Rex +had carried off the honors with flying colors. Pluma Hurlhurst, the +wealthy heiress, had chosen Rex in preference to himself. He stood +little chance with bright-eyed maidens compared with handsome, +careless, winning Rex Lyon. + +Quite unobserved, he had witnessed the meeting between Rex and Daisy +at the fountain, and how tenderly he clasped her in his arms as they +waltzed together in the mellow light, to the delicious strains of the +"Blue Danube," and knowing Rex as well as he did, he knew for the +first time in life Rex's heart was touched. + +"It would be a glorious revenge," Stanwick had muttered to himself, +"if I could win her from him." Then a sordid motive of revenge alone +prompted him--now he was beginning to experience the sweet thrillings +of awakened love himself. Yes, he had learned to love Daisy for her +own sweet self. + +He smiled as he thought of the last words Pluma Hurlhurst had said to +him: "Revenge is sweet, Lester, when love is turned to bitter hatred. +Help me to drag Rex Lyon's pride as low as he has this night dragged +mine, and you shall have my hand as your reward. My father is an +invalid--he can not live much longer--then you will be master of +Whitestone Hall." As he had walked down the broad gravel path, running +his eye over the vast plantation stretching afar on all sides, like a +field of snow, as the moonlight fell upon the waving cotton, he owned +to himself it was a fair domain well worth the winning. + +But as he stood there, gazing silently down upon little Daisy's +face--how strange it was--he would have given up twenty such +inheritances for the hope of making sweet little Daisy Brooks his +wife. + +It was well for Daisy Brooks he little dreamed of the great barrier +which lay between them, shutting him out completely from all thoughts +of love in Daisy's romantic heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +"Please go away," sobbed Daisy. "Leave me to myself, and I will get +up." + +"Very well," said Stanwick, involuntarily raising her little white +hands courteously to his lips; "and remember, I warn you, for your own +sake, not to dispute the assertion I have made--that you are my +wife." + +"Why?" asked Daisy, wistfully. "They will forgive me when I tell them +how it all came about." + +"You do not know women's ways," he replied. "They would hand you over +at once to the authorities; you would bring disgrace and ruin upon +your own head, and bitter shame to John Brooks's heart. I know him +well enough to believe he would never forgive you. On the other hand, +when you feel well enough to depart, you can simply say you are going +away with your husband. No one will think of detaining you; you will +be free as the wind to go where you will. It will cost you but a few +words. Remember, there are occasions when it is necessary to +prevaricate in order to prevent greater evils--this is one of them." + +Daisy could not dispute this specious logic, and she suffered herself +to be persuaded against her will and better judgment. She was +dreadfully homesick, poor little soul! and to go back to Allendale, to +Rex, was the one wish of her heart. But would he clasp her in his arms +if a shadow of disgrace blotted her fair name? She would go back to +him and kneel at his feet, and tell him why she had left Mme. +Whitney's. She certainly meant to tell him of all that followed, and, +with her little, warm cheek pressed close to his, ask him if she had +done right. + +At that moment the door of an adjoining room opened, and Lester +observed the three ladies standing in a row in the door-way. He knew +that three pairs of eyes were regarding him intently through as many +pairs of blue glasses. + +"Good-bye, my little wife," he said, raising his voice for their +benefit; "I'm off now. I shall see you again to-morrow;" and, before +Daisy had the least idea of his intentions, he had pressed a kiss upon +her rosy lips and was gone. + +The three ladies quickly advanced to the couch upon which Daisy +reclined. + +"We are very glad to find you are so much better this morning," they +exclaimed, all in a breath. "Your husband has been almost demented +about you, my dear." + +They wondered why the white face on the pillow turned so pink, then +faded to a dead white, and why the tear-drops started to her beautiful +blue eyes. + +"I was telling my sisters," pursued one of the ladies, softly, "you +were so young to be married--hardly more than a child. How old are +you, my dear--not more than sixteen, I suppose?" + +"Sixteen and a few months," answered Daisy. + +"How long have you been married, my dear?" questioned another of the +sisters. + +A great sob rose in Daisy's throat as she remembered it was just a +week that very day since she had stood in the dim old parlor at the +rectory, while Rex clasped her hands, his handsome, smiling eyes +gazing so lovingly down upon her, while the old minister spoke the +words that bound them for life to each other. It almost seemed to +Daisy that long years had intervened, she had passed through so much +since then. + +"Just a week to-day, madame," she made answer. + +"Why, you are a bride, then," they all chorused. "Ah! that accounts +for your husband's great anxiety about you. We all agreed we had never +seen a husband more devoted!" + +Daisy hid her face in the pillow. She thought she would go mad upon +being so cruelly misunderstood. Oh! if she had only dared throw +herself into their arms and sob out her heartaches on their bosoms. +Yes, she was a bride, but the most pitifully homesick, weary, +disheartened little girl-bride that ever the sun shone on in the wide, +wild world. + +They assisted Daisy to arise, brushing out her long, tangled, golden +curls, declaring to one another the pretty little creature looked more +like a merry, rosy-cheeked school-girl than a little bride-wife, in +her pink-and-white dotted muslin, which they had in the meantime done +up for her with their own hands. + +They wondered, too, why she never asked for her husband, and she +looked almost ready to faint when they spoke of him. + +"There seems to be something of a mystery here," remarked one of +the sisters when the trio were alone. "If that child is a bride, +she is certainly not a happy one. I do not like to judge a +fellow-creature--Heaven forbid! but I am sorely afraid all is not +right with her. Twice this afternoon, entering the room quietly, I +have found her lying face downward on the sofa, crying as if her +heart would break! I am sorely puzzled!" + +And the flame of suspicion once lighted was not easily extinguished in +the hearts of the curious spinsters. + +"'Won't you tell me your sorrow, my dear?' I said. + +"'No, no; I dare not!' she replied. + +"'Will you not confide in me, Mrs. Stanwick?' I asked. + +"She started up wildly, throwing her arms about my neck. + +"'Won't you please call me Daisy?' she sobbed, piteously; 'just +Daisy--nothing else.' + +"'Certainly, my dear, if you wish it,' I replied. 'There is one +question I would like to ask you, Daisy--you have told me your mother +is dead?' + +"'Yes,' she said, leaning her golden head against the window, and +watching the white clouds overhead in the blue sky--'my poor, dear +mother is dead!' + +"'Then will you answer me truthfully the question I am about to ask +you, Daisy, remembering your mother up in heaven hears you.' + +"She raised her blue eyes to mine. + +"'I shall answer truthfully any question you may put to me,' she said; +'if--if--it is not about Mr. Stanwick.' + +"'It is about yourself, Daisy,' I said, gravely. 'Tell me truthfully, +child, are you really a wife?' + +"She caught her breath with a hard, gasping sound; but her blue eyes +met mine unflinchingly. + +"'Yes, madame, I am, in the sight of God and man; but I am such an +unhappy one. I can not tell you why. My heart is breaking. I want to +go back to Allendale!' + +"'Is that where you live, Daisy?' + +"'Yes,' she said; 'I am going to start to-morrow morning.'" + +"How strange!" echoed the two sisters. + +"The strangest part of the affair is yet to come. The little creature +drew from her pocket a twenty-dollar bill. + +"'You have been kind and good to me,' she said. I must take enough to +carry me back to Allendale. You shall have all the rest, madame.' + +"'Put your money back into your pocket, Daisy,' I replied. 'Your +husband has already paid your bill. He begged me to accept it in +advance on the night you came.' + +"She gave a great start, and a flood of hot color rushed over her +face. + +"'I--I--did not know,' she said, faintly, 'how very good Mr. Stanwick +has been to me.'" + +The three sisters looked at one another in silent wonder over the rims +of their spectacles and shook their heads ominously. + + * * * * * + +Dear reader, we must return at this period to Rex--poor, broken-hearted +Rex--whom we left in the company of Pluma Hurlhurst in the spacious +parlor of Whitestone Hall. + +"Daisy Brooks is at this moment with Lester Stanwick! You must learn +to forget her, Rex," she repeated, slowly. + +A low cry escaped from Rex's lips, and he recoiled from her as though +she had struck him a heavy blow. His heart seemed fairly stifled in +his bosom, and he trembled in every limb with repressed excitement. + +"Here is a letter from Madame Whitney," she continued. "Read it for +yourself, Rex. You see, she says: 'Daisy fled. It has been since +ascertained she went to Elmwood, a station some sixty miles from here, +where she now is, at the cottage of the Burton sisters, in company +with her lover. I shall not attempt to claim her--her retribution must +come from another source.'" + +The words seemed to stand out in letters of fire. + +"Oh, my little love," he cried, "there must be some terrible mistake! +My God! my God! there must be some horrible mistake--some foul +conspiracy against you, my little sweetheart, my darling love!" + +He rose to his feet with a deep-drawn sigh, his teeth shut close, his +heart beating with great strangling throbs of pain. Strong and brave +as Rex was, this trouble was almost more than he could bear. + +"Where are you going, Rex?" said Pluma, laying a detaining hand upon +his arm. + +"I am going to Elmwood," he cried, bitterly, "to prove this accusation +is a cruel falsehood. Daisy has no lover; she is as sweet and pure as +Heaven itself! I was mad to doubt her for a single instant." + +"Judge for yourself, Rex--seeing is believing," said Pluma, +maliciously, a smoldering vengeance burning in her flashing eyes, and +a cold, cruel smile flitting across her face, while she murmured under +her breath: "Go, fond, foolish lover; your fool's paradise will be +rudely shattered--ay, your hopes crushed worse than mine are now, for +your lips can not wear a smile like mine when your heart is breaking. +Good-bye, Rex," she said, "and remember, in the hour when sorrow +strikes you keenest, turn to me; my friendship is true, and shall +never fail you." + +Rex bowed coldly and turned away; his heart was too sick for empty +words, and the heavy-hearted young man, who slowly walked down the +graveled path away from Whitestone Hall in the moonlight, was as +little like the gay, handsome Rex of one short week ago as could well +be imagined. + +There was the scent of roses and honeysuckles in the soft wind; and +some sweet-voiced bird awakened from sleep, and fancying it was day, +swung to and fro amid the green foliage, filling the night with +melody. The pitying stars shone down upon him from the moonlighted +heavens; but the still, solemn beauty of the night was lost upon Rex. +He regretted--oh! so bitterly--that he had parted from his sweet +little girl-bride, fearing his mother's scornful anger, or through a +sense of mistaken duty. + +"Had they but known little Daisy is my wife, they would have known how +impossible was their accusation that she was with Lester Stanwick." + +He shuddered at the very thought of such a possibility. + +The thought of Daisy, his little girl-bride, being sent to school +amused him. + +"Poor little robin!" he murmured. "No wonder she flew from her bondage +when she found the cage-door open! How pleased the little gypsy will +be to see me!" he mused. "I will clasp the dear little runaway in my +arms, and never let her leave me again! Mother could not help loving +my little Daisy if she were once to see her, and sister Birdie would +take to her at once." + +The next morning broke bright and clear; the sunshine drifted through +the green foliage of the trees, and crimson-breasted robins sung +their sweetest songs in the swaying boughs of the blossoming +magnolias; pansies and buttercups gemmed the distant hill-slope, and +nature's fountain--a merry, babbling brook--danced joyously through +the clover banks. No cloud was in the fair, blue, smiling heavens; no +voice of nature warned poor little Daisy, as she stood at the open +window drinking in the pure, sweet beauty of the morning of the dark +clouds which were gathering over her innocent head, and of the storm +which was so soon to burst upon her in all its fury. Daisy turned away +from the window with a little sigh. She did not see a handsome, +stalwart figure hurrying down the hill-side toward the cottage. How +her heart would have throbbed if she had only known Rex (for it was +he) was so near her! With a strangely beating heart he advanced toward +the little wicket gate, at which stood one of the sisters, busily +engaged pruning her rose-bushes. + +"Can you tell me, madame, where I can find the Misses Burton's +cottage?" he asked, courteously lifting his hat. + +"This is the Burton cottage," she answered, "and I am Ruth Burton. +What can I do for you?" + +"I would like to see Daisy Brooks, if you please. She is here, I +believe?" he said, questioningly. "May I come in?" + +Rex's handsome, boyish face and winning smile won their way straight +to the old lady's heart at once. + +"Perhaps you are the young lady's brother, sir? There is evidently +some mistake, however, as the young lady's name is Stanwick--Daisy +Stanwick. Her husband, Lester Stanwick--I believe that is the name--is +also in Elmwood." + +All the color died out of Rex's handsome face and the light from his +brown eyes. He leaned heavily against the gate-post. The words seemed +shrieked on the air and muttered on the breeze. + +"Daisy is _not_ his wife! My God, madame!" he cried, hoarsely, "she +_could not_ be!" + +"It is very true," replied the old lady, softly. "I have her own words +for it. There may be some mistake, as you say," she said, soothingly, +noting the death-like despair that settled over the noble face. "She +is a pretty, fair, winsome little creature, blue-eyed, and curling +golden hair, and lives at Allendale. She is certainly married. I will +call her. She shall tell you so herself. Daisy--Mrs. Stanwick--come +here, dear," she called. + +"I am coming, Miss Ruth," answered a sweet, bird-like voice, which +pierced poor Rex's heart to the very core as a girlish little figure +bounded through the open door-way, out into the brilliant sunshine. + +"God pity me!" cried Rex, staggering forward. "It _is_ Daisy--my +wife!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Rex had hoped against hope. + +"Daisy!" he cried, holding out his arms to her with a yearning, +passionate cry. "My God! tell me it is false--you are _not_ here with +Stanwick--or I shall go mad! Daisy, my dear little sweetheart, my +little love, why don't you speak?" he cried, clasping her close to his +heart and covering her face and hair and hands with passionate, +rapturous kisses. + +Daisy struggled out of his embrace, with a low, broken sob, flinging +herself on her knees at his feet with a sharp cry. + +"Daisy," said the old lady, bending over her and smoothing back the +golden hair from the lovely anguished face, "tell him the truth, dear. +You are here with Mr. Stanwick; is it not so?" + +The sudden weight of sorrow that had fallen upon poor, hapless Daisy +seemed to paralyze her very senses. The sunshine seemed blotted out, +and the light of heaven to grow dark around her. + +"Yes," she cried, despairingly; and it almost seemed to Daisy another +voice had spoken with her lips. + +"This Mr. Stanwick claims to be your husband?" asked the old lady, +solemnly. + +"Yes," she cried out again, in agony, "but, Rex, I--I--" + +The words died away on her white lips, and the sound died away in her +throat. She saw him recoil from her with a look of white, frozen +horror on his face which gave place to stern, bitter wrath. Slowly and +sadly he put her clinging arms away from him, folding his arms across +his breast with that terrible look upon his face such as a hero's face +wears when he has heard, unflinchingly, his death sentence--the calm +of terrible despair. + +"Daisy," he said, proudly, "I have trusted you blindly, for I loved +you madly, passionately. I would as soon believe the fair smiling +heavens that bend above us false as you whom I loved so madly and so +well. I was mad to bind you with such cruel, irksome bonds when your +heart was not mine but another's. My dream of love is shattered now. +You have broken my heart and ruined and blighted my life. God forgive +you, Daisy, for I never can! I give you back your freedom; I release +you from your vows; I can not curse you--I have loved you too well for +that; I cast you from my heart as I cast you from my life; farewell, +Daisy--farewell forever!" + +She tried to speak, but her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. +Oh, pitying Heaven, if she could only have cried out to you and the +angels to bear witness and proclaim her innocence! The strength to +move hand or foot seemed suddenly to have left her. She tried hard, +oh! so hard, to speak, but no sound issued from her white lips. She +felt as one in a horrible trance, fearfully, terribly conscious of all +that transpired around her, yet denied the power to move even a muscle +to defend herself. + +"Have you anything to say to me, Daisy?" he asked, mournfully, turning +from her to depart. + +The woful, terrified gaze of the blue eyes deepened pitifully, but she +spoke no word, and Rex turned from her--turned from the girl-bride +whom he loved so madly, with a bursting, broken heart, more bitter to +bear than death itself--left her alone with the pitying sunlight +falling upon her golden hair, and her white face turned up to heaven, +silently praying to God that she might die then and there. + +Oh, Father above, pity her! She had no mother's gentle voice to guide +her, no father's strong breast to weep upon, no sister's soothing +presence. She was so young and so pitifully lonely, and Rex had +drifted out of her life forever, believing her--oh, bitterest of +thoughts!--believing her false and sinful. + +Poor little Daisy was ignorant of the ways of the world; but a dim +realization of the full import of the terrible accusation brought +against her forced its way to her troubled brain. + +She only realized--Rex--her darling Rex, had gone out of her life +forever. + +Daisy flung herself face downward in the long, cool, waving green +grass where Rex had left her. + +"Daisy," called Miss Burton, softly, "it is all over; come into the +house, my dear." + +But she turned from her with a shuddering gasp. + +"In the name of pity, leave me to myself," she sobbed; "it is the +greatest kindness you can do me." + +And the poor old lady who had wrought so much sorrow unwittingly in +those two severed lives, walked slowly back to the cottage, with tears +in her eyes, strongly impressed there must be some dark mystery in the +young girl's life who was sobbing her heart out in the green grass +yonder; and she did just what almost any other person would have done +under the same circumstances--sent immediately for Lester Stanwick. +He answered the summons at once, listening with intense interest while +the aged spinster briefly related all that had transpired; but through +oversight or excitement she quite forgot to mention Rex had called +Daisy his wife. + +"Curse him!" he muttered, under his breath, "I--I believe the girl +actually cares for him." + +Then he went out to Daisy, lying so still and lifeless among the pink +clover and waving grass. + +Poor Daisy! Poor, desperate, lonely, struggling child! All this cruel +load of sorrow, crushing her girlish heart, and blighting her young +life, and she so innocent, so entirely blameless, yet such a plaything +of fate. + +"Daisy," he said, bending over her and lifting the slight form in his +arms, "they tell me some one has been troubling you. Who has dared +annoy you? Trust in me, Daisy. What is the matter?" + +Lester Stanwick never forgot the white, pitiful face that was raised +to his. + +"I want to die," she sobbed. "Oh, why did you not leave me to die in +the dark water? it was so cruel of you to save me." + +"Do you want to know why I risked my life to save you, Daisy? Does not +my every word and glance tell you why?" The bold glance in his eyes +spoke volumes. "Have you not guessed that I love you, Daisy?" + +"Oh, please do not talk to me in that way, Mr. Stanwick," she cried, +starting to her feet in wild alarm. "Indeed you must not," she +stammered. + +"Why not?" he demanded, a merciless smile stirring beneath his heavy +mustache. "I consider that you belong to me. I mean to make you my +wife in very truth." + +Daisy threw up her hands in a gesture of terror heart-breaking to see, +shrinking away from him in quivering horror, her sweet face ashen +pale. + +"Oh, go away, go away!" she cried out. "I am growing afraid of you. I +could never marry you, and I would not if I could. I shall always be +grateful to you for what you have done for me, but, oh, go away, and +leave me now, for my trouble is greater than I can bear!" + +"You would not if you could," he repeated, coolly, smiling so +strangely her blood seemed to change to ice in her veins. "I thank you +sincerely for your appreciation of me. I did not dream, however, your +aversion to me was so deeply rooted. That makes little difference, +however. I shall make you my wife this very day all the same; +business, urgent business, calls me away from Elmwood to-day. I shall +take you with me as my wife." + +She heard the cruel words like one in a dream. + +"Rex! Rex!" she sobbed, under her breath. Suddenly she remembered Rex +had left her--she was never to look upon his face again. He had left +her to the cold mercies of a cruel world. Poor little Daisy--the +unhappy, heart-broken girl-bride--sat there wondering what else could +happen to her. "God has shut me out from His mercy," she cried; "there +is nothing for me to do but to die." + +"I am a desperate man, Daisy," pursued Stanwick, slowly. "My will is +my law. The treatment you receive at my hands depends entirely upon +yourself--you will not dare defy me!" His eyes fairly glowed with a +strange fire that appalled her as she met his passionate glance. + +Then Daisy lifted up her golden head with the first defiance she had +ever shown, the deathly pallor deepening on her fair, sweet, +flower-like face, and the look of a hunted deer at bay in the +beautiful velvety agonized eyes, as she answered: + +"I refuse to marry you, Mr. Stanwick. Please go away and leave me in +peace." + +He laughed mockingly. + +"I shall leave you for the present, my little sweetheart," he said, +"but I shall return in exactly fifteen minutes. Hold yourself in +readiness to receive me then; I shall not come alone, but bring with +me a minister, who will be prepared to marry us. I warn you not to +attempt to run away," he said, interpreting aright the startled glance +she cast about her. "In yonder lane stands a trusty sentinel to see +that you do not leave this house. You have been guarded thus since you +entered this house; knowing your proclivity to escape impending +difficulties, I have prepared accordingly. You can not escape your +fate, my little wild flower!" + +"No minister would marry an unwilling bride--he could not. I would +fling myself at his feet and tell him all, crying out I was--I was--" + +"You will do nothing of the kind," he interrupted, a hard, resolute +look settling on his face. "I would have preferred winning you by fair +means, if possible; if you make it impossible I shall be forced to a +desperate measure. I had not intended adopting such stringent +measures, except in an extreme case. Permit me to explain what I shall +do to prevent you from making the slightest outcry." As he spoke he +drew from his pocket a small revolver heavily inlaid with pearl and +silver. "I shall simply hold this toy to your pretty forehead to +prevent a scene. The minister will be none the wiser--he is blind? Do +you think," he continued, slowly, "that I am the man to give up a +thing I have set my heart upon for a childish whim?" + +"Believe me," cried Daisy, earnestly, "it is no childish whim. Oh, Mr. +Stanwick, I want to be grateful to you--why will you torture me until +I hate you?" + +"I will marry you this very day, Daisy Brooks, whether you hate me or +love me. I have done my best to gain your love. It will come in time; +I can wait for it." + +"You will never make me love you," cried Daisy, covering her face with +her hands; "do not hope it--and the more you talk to me the less I +like you. I wish you would go away." + +"I shall not despair," said Stanwick, with a confident smile. "I like +things which I find it hard to obtain--that was always one of my +characteristics--and I never liked you so well as I like you now, in +your defiant anger, and feel more determined than ever to make you my +own." + +Suddenly a new thought occurred to him as he was about to turn from +her. + +"Why, how stupid of me!" he cried. "I could not bring the parson here, +for they think you my wife already. I must change my plan materially +by taking you to the parsonage. We can go from here directly to the +station. I shall return in exactly fifteen minutes with a conveyance. +Remember, I warn you to make no outcry for protection in the meantime. +If you do I shall say you inherited your mother's malady. I am well +acquainted with your history, you see." He kissed his finger-tips to +her carelessly. "_Au revoir_, my love, but not farewell," he said, +lightly, "until we meet to be parted nevermore," and, with a quick, +springy step Lester Stanwick walked rapidly down the clover-bordered +path on his fatal errand. + +In the distance the little babbling brook sung to her of peace and +rest beneath its curling, limpid waters. + +"Oh, mother, mother," she cried, "what was the dark sorrow that +tortured your poor brain, till it drove you mad--ay, mad--ending in +death and despair? Why did you leave your little Daisy here to suffer +so? I feel such a throbbing in my own poor brain--but I must fly +anywhere, anywhere, to escape this new sorrow. God has forgotten me." +She took one step forward in a blind, groping, uncertain way. "My last +ray of hope has died out," she cried as the memory of his cruel words +came slowly back to her, so mockingly uttered--"the minister would be +none the wiser--he is blind." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +When Lester Stanwick returned to the cottage he found that quite an +unexpected turn of events had transpired. Miss Burton had gone out to +Daisy--she lay so still and lifeless in the long green grass. + +"Heaven bless me!" she cried, in alarm, raising her voice to a pitch +that brought both of the sisters quickly to her side. "Matilda, go at +once and fetch the doctor. See, this child is ill, her cheeks are +burning scarlet and her eyes are like stars." + +At that opportune moment they espied the doctor's carriage proceeding +leisurely along the road. + +"Dear me, how lucky," cried Ruth, "Doctor West should happen along +just now. Go to the gate, quick, Matilda, and ask him to stop." + +The keen eyes of the doctor, however, had observed the figure lying on +the grass and the frantic movements of the three old ladies bending +over it, and drew rein of his own accord to see what was the matter. + +He drew back with a cry of surprise as his eyes rested on the +beautiful flushed face of the young girl lying among the blue +harebells at his feet. + +"I am afraid this is a serious case," he said, thoughtfully, placing +his cool hand on her burning forehead; "the child has all the symptoms +of brain fever in its worst form, brought on probably through some +great excitement." The three ladies looked at one another meaningly. +"She must be taken into the house and put to bed at once," he +continued, authoritatively, lifting the slight figure in his strong +arms, and gazing pityingly down upon the beautiful flushed face framed +in its sheen of golden hair resting against his broad shoulders. + +The doctor was young and unmarried and impressible; and the strangest +sensation he had ever experienced thrilled through his heart as the +blue, flaring eyes met his and the trembling red lips incoherently +beseeched him to save her, hide her somewhere, anywhere, before the +fifteen minutes were up. + +A low muttered curse burst from Stanwick's lips upon his return, as he +took in the situation at a single glance. + +As Daisy's eyes fell upon Stanwick's face she uttered a piteous little +cry: + +"Save me from him--save me!" she said, hysterically, growing rapidly +so alarmingly worse that Stanwick was forced to leave the room, +motioning the doctor to follow him into the hall. + +"The young lady is my wife," he said, with unflinching assurance, +uttering the cruel falsehood, "and we intend leaving Elmwood to-day. I +am in an uncomfortable dilemma. I must go, yet I can not leave my--my +wife. She must be removed, doctor; can you not help me to arrange it +in some way?" + +"No, sir," cried the doctor, emphatically; "she can not be removed. As +her physician, I certainly would not give my consent to such a +proceeding; her very life would pay the forfeit." + +For a few moments Lester Stanwick paced up and down the hall lost in +deep thought; his lips were firmly set, and there was a determined +gleam in his restless black eyes. Suddenly he stopped short directly +before the doctor, who stood regarding him with no very agreeable +expression in his honest gray eyes. + +"How long will it be before the crisis is past--that is, how long will +it be before she is able to be removed?" + +"Not under three weeks," replied the doctor, determinedly. + +"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, sharply. "Why, I shall have to--" He +bit his lip savagely, as if he had been on the point of disclosing +some guarded secret. "Fate is against me," he said, "in more ways than +one; these things can not be avoided, I suppose. Well, doctor, as I am +forced to leave to-day I shall leave her in your charge. I will return +in exactly two weeks. She has brain fever, you say?" + +The doctor nodded. + +"You assure me she can not leave her bed for two weeks to come?" he +continued, anxiously. + +"I can safely promise that," replied the doctor, wondering at the +strange, satisfied smile that flitted like a meteor over his +companion's face for one brief instant. + +"This will defray her expenses in the meantime," he said, putting a +few crisp bank-notes into the doctor's hand. "See that she has every +luxury." + +He was about to re-enter the room where Daisy lay, but the doctor held +him back. + +"I should advise you to remain away for the present," he said, "your +presence produces such an unpleasant effect upon her. Wait until she +sleeps." + +"I have often thought it so strange people in delirium shrink so from +those they love best; I can not understand it," said Stanwick, with an +odd, forced laugh. "As you are the doctor, I suppose your orders must +be obeyed, however. If the fever should happen to take an unfavorable +turn in the meantime, please drop a line to my address, 'care of Miss +Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, Allendale,'" he said, extending +his card. "It will be forwarded to me promptly, and I can come on at +once." + +Again the doctor nodded, putting the card safely away in his wallet, +and soon after Lester Stanwick took his departure, roundly cursing his +luck, yet congratulating himself upon the fact that Daisy could not +leave Elmwood--he could rest content on that score. + +Meanwhile the three venerable sisters and the young doctor were +watching anxiously at Daisy's bedside. + +"Oh, my poor little dear--my pretty little dear!" sobbed Ruth, +caressing the burning little hands that clung to her so tightly. + +"Won't you hide me?" pleaded Daisy, laying her hot cheek against the +wrinkled hand that held hers. "Hide me, please, just as if I were your +own child; I have no mother, you know." + +"God help the pretty, innocent darling!" cried the doctor, turning +hastily away to hide the suspicious moisture that gathered in his +eyes. "No one is going to harm you, little one," he said, soothingly; +"no one shall annoy you." + +"Was it so great a sin? He would not let me explain. He has gone out +of my life!" she wailed, pathetically, putting back the golden rings +of hair from her flushed face. "Rex! Rex!" she sobbed, incoherently, +"I shall die--or, worse, I shall go mad, if you do not come back to +me!" + +The three ladies looked at one another questioningly, in alarm. + +"You must not mind the strange ravings of a person in delirium," said +the doctor, curtly; "they are liable to imagine and say all sorts of +nonsense. Pay no attention to what she says, my dear ladies; don't +disturb her with questions. That poor little brain needs absolute +rest; every nerve seems to have been strained to its utmost." + +After leaving the proper medicines and giving minute instructions as +to how and when it should be administered, Dr. West took his +departure, with a strange, vague uneasiness at his heart. + +"Pshaw!" he muttered to himself, as he drove briskly along the shadowy +road, yet seeing none of its beauty, "how strange it is these young +girls will fall in love and marry such fellows as that!" he mused. +"There is something about his face that I don't like; he is a +scoundrel, and I'll bet my life on it!" + +The doctor brought his fist down on his knee with such a resounding +blow that poor old Dobbin broke into a gallop. But, drive as fast he +would, he could not forget the sweet, childish face that had taken +such a strong hold upon his fancy. The trembling red lips and pleading +blue eyes haunted him all the morning, as though they held some secret +they would fain have whispered. + +All the night long Daisy clung to the hands that held hers, begging +and praying her not to leave her alone, until the poor old lady was +quite overcome by the fatigue of continued watching beside her couch. +Rest or sleep seemed to have fled from Daisy's bright, restless eyes. + +"Don't go away," she cried; "everybody goes away. I do not belong to +any one. I am all--all--alone," she would sigh, drearily. + +Again she fancied she was with Rex, standing beneath the magnolia +boughs in the sunshine; again, she was clinging to his arm--while some +cruel woman insulted her--sobbing pitifully upon his breast; again, +she was parting from him at the gate, asking him if what they had done +was right; then she was in some school-room, begging piteously for +some cruel letter; then out on the waves in the storm and the +on-coming darkness of night. + +The sisters relieved one another at regular intervals. They had ceased +to listen to her pathetic little appeals for help, or the wild cries +of agony that burst from the red feverish lips as she started up from +her slumbers with stifled sobs, moaning out that the time was flying; +that she must escape anywhere, anywhere, while there were still +fifteen minutes left her. + +She never once mentioned Stanwick's name, or Septima's, but called +incessantly for Rex and poor old Uncle John. + +"Who in the world do you suppose Rex is?" said Matilda, thoughtfully. +"That name is continually on her lips--the last word she utters when +she closes her eyes, the first word to cross her lips when she awakes. +That must certainly be the handsome young fellow she met at the gate. +If he is Rex I do not wonder the poor child loved him so. He was the +handsomest, most noble-looking, frank-faced young man I have ever +seen; and he took on in a way that made me actually cry when I told +him she was married. He would not believe it, until I called the child +and she told him herself it was the truth. I was sorry from the bottom +of my heart that young fellow had not won her instead of this +Stanwick, they were so suited to each other." + +"Ah," said Ruth, after a moment's pause, "I think I have the key to +this mystery. She loves this handsome Rex, that is evident; perhaps +they have had a lovers' quarrel, and she has married this one on the +spur of the moment through pique. Oh, the pretty little dear!" sighed +Ruth. "I hope she will never rue it." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Slowly the days came and went for the next fortnight. The crisis had +passed, and Dr. West said she would soon recover. The beautiful, long, +golden hair had been shorn from the pretty little head, and the +rose-bloom had died out of the pretty cheeks, but the bright, restless +light never left the beautiful blue eyes--otherwise there was but +little change in Daisy. + +It had been just two weeks that morning, they told her, as she opened +her eyes to consciousness, since she had first been stricken down. + +"And I have been here ever since?" she inquired, wonderingly. + +"Yes, my dear," replied Ruth Burton, softly patting the thin white +cheeks; "of course you have been here ever since. I am afraid we are +going to lose you soon, however. We have received a letter from your +husband, saying he will be here some time to-morrow. Shall you be +pleased to see him, dear?" + +In one single instant all the dim, horrible past rushed back to Daisy's +mind. She remembered flinging herself down in the clover-scented +grass, and the world growing dark around her, as the terrible words of +Stanwick rang in her ears--he would be back in just fifteen minutes to +claim her. + +Ah, bonny little Daisy, tossing on your pillow, babbling empty +nothings, better would it have been for you, perhaps, if you had +dropped the weary burden of your life into the kindly arms of death +then and there than to struggle onward into the dark mystery which lay +entombed in your future. + +"Shall you be glad to see Mr. Stanwick, dear?" repeated the old lady, +and, unconscious of any wrong, she placed the letter he had written in +Daisy's hands. Like one in a terrible dream, Daisy read it quite +through to the end. "You see, he says he incloses fifty dollars extra +for you, dear. I have placed it with the twenty safe in your little +purse." + +"Oh, Miss Ruth, you are so very kind to me. I shall never forget how +good you have all been to me," said Daisy, softly, watching the three +peaceful-faced old ladies, who had drawn their rocking-chairs, as was +their custom, all in a row, and sat quietly knitting in the sunshine, +the gentle click of their needles falling soothingly upon Daisy's +poor, tired brain. + +"We shall miss you sadly when you go," said Ruth, knitting away +vigorously. "You have been like a ray of sunshine in this gloomy old +house. We have all learned to love you very dearly." + +"You love me?" repeated Daisy, wonderingly. "I was beginning to +believe every one hated me in the whole world, every one has been so +bitter and so cruel with me, except poor old Uncle John. I often +wonder why God lets me live--what am I to do with my life! Mariana in +the moated grange, was not more to be pitied than I. Death relieved +her, but I am left to struggle on." + +"Heaven hear her!" cried Ruth. "One suffers a great deal to lose all +interest in life. You are so young, dear, you could not have suffered +much." + +"I have lost all I hold dear in life," she answered, pathetically, +lifting her beautiful, childish blue eyes toward the white fleecy +clouds tinted by the setting sun. + +Their hearts ached for the pretty, lonely little creature. They +believed she was thinking of her mother. So she was--and of Rex, the +handsome young husband whom she so madly idolized in her worshipful +childish fashion, who was worse than dead to her--the husband who +should have believed in her honor and purity, though the world had +cried out to him that she was false. He had thrust aside all +possibility of her writing to him; cast her out from his life; left +her to be persecuted beyond all endurance; bound by a vow she dare not +break to keep her marriage with Rex a secret. Though he was more cruel +than death, she loved Rex with a devotion that never faltered. + +Daisy lay there, thinking of it all, while the soft, golden sunlight +died out of the sky, and the deep dusk of twilight crept softly on. + +Then the old ladies arose from their chairs, folded their knitting, +and put it away. Dusk was their hour for retiring. + +They were discussing which one should sit up with Daisy, when she +summoned them all to her bedside. + +"I want you all to go to bed and never mind me," coaxed Daisy, with a +strange light in her eyes. "Take a good sleep, as I am going to do. I +shall be very happy to-morrow--happier than I have ever been before!" + +She clasped her white arms about their necks in turn, clinging to +them, and sobbing as though she was loath to part with them. + +Ruth's hand she held last and longest. + +"Please kiss me again," she sobbed. "Clasp your arms tight around me, +and say 'Good-night, Daisy.' It will be so nice to dream about." + +With a cheery laugh the old lady lovingly complied with her request. + +"You must close those bright little eyes of yours, and drift quickly +into the Land of Nod, or there will be no roses in these cheeks +to-morrow. Good-night, my pretty little dear!" + +"Good-night, dear, kind Ruth!" sighed Daisy. + +And she watched the old lady with wistful, hungry eyes as she picked +up her shaded night-lamp, that threw such a soft, sweet radiance over +her aged face, as she quietly quitted the room. + +A sudden change came over Daisy's face as the sound of her footsteps +died away in the hall. + +"Oh, God! help me!" she cried, piteously, struggling to her feet. "I +must be far away from here when daylight breaks." + +She was so weak she almost fell back on her bed again when she +attempted to rise. The thought of the morrow lent strength to her +flagging energies. A strange mist seemed rising before her. Twice she +seemed near fainting, but her indomitable courage kept her from +sinking, as she thought of what the morrow would have in store for +her. + +Quietly she counted over the little store in her purse by the moon's +rays. + +"Seventy dollars! Oh, I could never use all that in my life!" she +cried. "Besides, I could never touch one cent of Stanwick's money. It +would burn my fingers--I am sure it would!" + +Folding the bill carefully in two she placed it beneath her little +snowy ruffled pillow. Then catching up the thick, dark shawl which lay +on an adjacent table, she wrapped it quickly about her. She opened the +door leading out into the hall, and listened. All was still--solemnly +still. + +Daisy crept softly down the stairs, and out into the quiet beauty of +the still, summer night. + +"Rex," she wailed, softly, "perhaps when I am dead you will feel sorry +for poor little Daisy, and some one may tell you how you have wronged +me in your thoughts, but you would not let me tell you how it +happened!" + +In the distance she saw the shimmer of water lying white and still +under the moon's rays, tipped by the silvery light of the stars. + +"No, not that way," she cried, with a shudder; "some one might save +me, and I want to die!" + +In the distance the red and colored gleaming lights of an apothecary's +shop caught her gaze. + +"Yes, that way will be best," she said, reflectively. + +She drew the shawl closer about her, pressing on as rapidly as her +feeble little feet would carry her. How weak she was when she turned +the knob and entered--the very lights seemed dancing around her. + +A small, keen-eyed, shrewd little man stepped briskly forward to wait +upon her. He started back in horror at the utter despair and woe in +the beautiful young face that was turned for a moment toward him, +beautiful in all its pallor as a statue, with a crown of golden hair +such as pictures of angels wear encircling the perfect head. + +"What can I do for you, miss?" queried the apothecary, gazing +searchingly into the beautiful dreamy blue eyes raised up to his and +wondering who she could possibly be. + +"I wish to purchase some laudanum," Daisy faltered. "I wish it to +relieve a pain which is greater than I can bear." + +"Toothache, most probably?" intimated the brisk little doctor. "I know +what it is. Lord bless you! I've had it until I thought I should jump +through the roof. Laudanum's a first-class thing, but I can tell you +of something better--jerk 'em out, that's my recipe," he said, with an +odd little smile. "Of course every one to their notion, and if you say +laudanum--and nothing else--why it's laudanum you shall have; but +remember it's powerful. Why, ten drops of it would cause--death." + +"How many drops did you say?" asked Daisy, bending forward eagerly. +"I--I want to be careful in taking it." + +"Ten drops, I said, would poison a whole family, and twenty a +regiment. You must use it very carefully, miss. Remember I have warned +you," he said, handing her the little bottle filled with a dark liquid +and labeled conspicuously, "Laudanum--a poison." + +"Please give me my change quickly," she said, a strange, deadly +sickness creeping over her. + +"Certainly, ma'am," assented the obliging little man, handing her back +the change. + +Daisy quite failed to notice that he returned her the full amount she +had paid him in his eagerness to oblige her, and he went happily back +to compounding his drugs in the rear part of the shop, quite +unconscious he was out the price of the laudanum. + +He was dreaming of the strange beauty of the young girl, and the smile +deepened on his good-humored face as he remembered how sweetly she had +gazed up at him. + +Meanwhile Daisy struggled on, clasping her treasure close to her +throbbing heart. She remembered Ruth had pointed out an old shaft to +her from her window; it had been unused many years, she had said. + +"The old shaft shall be my tomb," she said; "no one will think of +looking for me there." + +Poor little Daisy--unhappy girl-bride, let Heaven not judge her +harshly--she was sorely tried. + +"Mother, mother!" she sobbed, in a dry, choking voice, "I can not live +any longer. I am not taking the life God gave me, I am only returning +it to Him. This is the only crime I have ever committed, mother, and +man will forget it, and God will forgive me. You must plead for me, +angel-mother. Good-bye, dear, kind Uncle John, your love never failed +me, and Rex--oh, Rex--whom I love best of all, you will not know how I +loved you. Oh, my love--my lost love--I shall watch over you up +there!" she moaned, "and come to you in your dreams! Good-bye, Rex, my +love, my husband!" she sobbed, holding the fatal liquid to her parched +lips. + +The deep yawning chasm lay at her feet. Ten--ay, eleven drops she +hastily swallowed. Then with one last piteous appeal to Heaven for +forgiveness, poor, helpless little Daisy closed her eyes and sprung +into the air. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +A strong hand drew Daisy quickly back. + +"Rash child! What is this that you would do?" cried an eager, earnest +voice, and, turning quickly about, speechless with fright, Daisy met +the stern eyes of the apothecary bent searchingly, inquiringly upon +her. + +"It means that I am tired of life," she replied, desperately. "My life +is so full of sadness it will be no sorrow to leave it. I wanted to +rest quietly down there, but you have held me back; it is useless to +attempt to save me now. I have already swallowed a portion of the +laudanum. Death must come to relieve me soon. It would be better to +let me die down there where no one could have looked upon my face +again." + +"I had no intention to let you die so easily," said the apothecary, +softly. "I read your thoughts too plainly for that. I did not give you +laudanum, but a harmless mixture instead, and followed you to see if +my surmise was correct. You are young and fair--surely life could not +have lost all hope and sunshine for you?" + +"You do not know all," said Daisy, wearily, "or you would not have +held me back. I do not know of another life so utterly hopeless as my +own." + +The good man looked at the sweet, innocent, beautiful face, upon which +the starlight fell, quite bewildered and thoughtful. + +"I should like to know what your trouble is," he said, gently. + +"I could tell you only one half of it," she replied, wearily. "I have +suffered much, and yet through no fault of my own. I am cast off, +deserted, condemned to a loveless, joyless life; my heart is broken; +there is nothing left me but to die. I repeat that it is a sad fate." + +"It is indeed," replied the apothecary, gravely. "Yet, alas! not an +uncommon one. Are you quite sure that nothing can remedy it?" + +"Quite sure," replied Daisy, hopelessly. "My doom is fixed; and no +matter how long I live, or how long he lives, it can never be +altered." + +The apothecary was uncomfortable without knowing why, haunted by a +vague, miserable suspicion, which poor Daisy's words secretly +corroborated; yet it seemed almost a sin to harbor one suspicion +against the purity of the artless little creature before him. He +looked into the fresh young face. There was no cloud on it, no guilt +lay brooding in the clear, truthful blue eyes. He never dreamed little +Daisy was a wife. "Why did he not love her?" was the query the +apothecary asked himself over and over again; "she is so young, so +loving, and so fair. He has cast her off, this man to whom she has +given the passionate love of her young heart." + +"You see you did wrong to hold me back," she said, gently. "How am I +to live and bear this sorrow that has come upon me? What am I to do?" + +She looked around her with the bewildered air of one who had lost her +way, with the dazed appearance of one from beneath whose feet the bank +of safety has been withdrawn. Hope was dead, and the past a blank. + +"No matter what your past has been, my poor child, you must remember +there is a future. Take up the burden again, and bear it nobly; go +back to your home, and commence life anew." + +"I have no home and no friends," she sighed, hopelessly. + +"Poor child," he said, pityingly, "is it as bad as that?" + +A sudden idea seemed to occur to him. + +"You are a perfect stranger to me," he said, "but I believe you to be +an honorable girl, and I should like to befriend you, as I would pray +Heaven to befriend a daughter of mine if she were similarly situated. +If I should put you in a way of obtaining your own living as companion +to an elderly lady in a distant city, would you be willing to take up +the tangled threads of your life again, and wait patiently until God +saw fit to call you--that is, you would never attempt to take your +life into your own hands again?" he asked, slowly. "Remember, such an +act is murder, and a murderer can not enter the kingdom of heaven." + +He never forgot the startled, frightened glance that swept over the +beautiful face, plainly discernible in the white moonlight, nor the +quiver of the sweet, tremulous voice as Daisy answered: + +"I think God must have intended me to live, or He would not have sent +you here to save me," she answered, impulsively. "Twice I have been +near death, and each time I have been rescued. I never attempted to +take my own life but this once. I shall try and accept my fate and +live out my weary life." + +"Bravely spoken, my noble girl," replied her rescuer, heartily. + +"I must go far away from here, though," she continued, shuddering; "I +am sorely persecuted here." + +The old man listened gravely to her disconnected, incoherent words, +drawing but one conclusion from them--"the lover who had cast her off +was pursuing the child, as her relentless foe, to the very verge of +death and despair." + +"It is my sister who wants a companion," he said. "She lives in the +South--in Florida. Do you think you would like to go as far away as +that?" + +"Yes," said Daisy, mechanically. "I should like to go to the furthest +end of the world. It does not matter much where I go!" + +How little she knew where fate was drifting her! Rex had not told her +his home was in Florida; he meant to tell her that on the morning he +was to have met her. + +"It will be a long, wearisome journey for you to undertake, still I +feel sure you are brave enough to accomplish it in safety." + +"I thank you very much for your confidence in me, sir," said Daisy, +simply. + +"Tut, tut, child!" exclaimed the old man, brusquely. "That innocent +little face of yours ought to be a passport to any one's confidence. I +don't think there's any doubt but what you will get on famously with +Maria--that's my sister Mrs. Glenn--but she's got three daughters that +would put an angel's temper on edge. They're my nieces--more's the +pity, for they are regular Tartars. Mrs. Glenn sent for my daughter +Alice to come down there; but, Lord bless you, I wouldn't dare send +her! There would be a raging quarrel before twenty-four hours! My +Alice has got a temper of her own. But, pshaw! I ought not to frighten +you, my dear; they could not help but love _you_." + +And thus it was Daisy's fate was unchangeably settled for her. + +"There is one thing I would like you to promise me," she said, +timidly, "and that is never to divulge my whereabouts to any one who +might come in search of me. I must remain dead to the world forever; I +shall never take up the old life again. They must believe me dead." + +Argument and persuasion alike were useless; and, sorely troubled at +heart, the apothecary reluctantly consented. Poor little Daisy +impulsively caught him by both hands, and gratefully sobbed out her +thanks. + +The arrangements were soon completed, and before the gray dawn pierced +the darkness of the eastern sky poor little Daisy was whirling rapidly +away from Elmwood. + +The consternation and excitement which prevailed at the Burton Cottage +when Daisy's absence was discovered can better be imagined than +described; or the intense anger of Stanwick upon finding Daisy had +eluded him. + +"Checkmated!" he cried, white to the very lips. "But she shall not +escape me; she shall suffer for this freak. I am not a man to be +trifled with. She can not have gone far," he assured himself. "In all +probability she has left Elmwood; but if by rail or by water I can +easily recapture my pretty bird. Ah, Daisy Brooks!" he muttered, "you +can not fly away from your fate; it will overtake you sooner or +later." + +Some hours after Stanwick had left the cottage, an old man toiled +wearily up the grass-grown path. + +"Oh, poor little Daisy," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes with +his old red and white cotton kerchief; "no matter what you have done +I will take you back to my heart--that I will!" + +He clutched the letter Mme. Whitney had written him close in his +toil-hardened hand. The letter simply told him Daisy had fled from the +seminary, and she had every reason to believe she was now in Elmwood. +He had received the letter while in New York, and hastily proceeded to +Elmwood, the station indicated, at once, without stopping over at +Allendale to acquaint Septima with the news. + +"She shall never be sent off to school again," he commented; "but she +shall stop at home. Poor little pet, she was always as happy as the +day was long; she sha'n't have book-learning if she don't want it. I +am too hard, I s'pose, with the child in sending her off among these +primpy city gals, with their flounces and furbelows, with only three +plain muslin frocks. The dickens fly away with the book-learnin'; I +like her all the better just as she is, bless her dear little heart! +I'm after little Daisy Brooks," he said, bowing to the ladies who met +him at the door. "I heard she was here--run away from school, you see, +ma'am--but I'll forgive the little gypsy. Tell her old Uncle John is +here. She'll be powerful glad to see me." + +Slowly and gently they broke to him the cruel story. How the dark, +handsome stranger had brought her there in the storm and the night; +and they could not refuse her shelter; the gentleman claimed her to be +his wife; of her illness which culminated in her disappearance. + +They never forgot the white, set face turned toward them. The veins +stood out like cords on his forehead, and the perspiration rolled down +his pallid cheeks in great quivering beads. This heart-rending, silent +emotion was more terrible to witness than the most violent paroxysms +of grief. Strangely enough they had quite forgotten to mention Rex's +visit. + +"You don't know how I loved that child," he cried, brokenly. "She was +all I had to love in the whole world, and I set such store by her, but +Stanwick shall pay dearly for this," he cried, hoarsely. "I shall +never rest day or night until my little Daisy's honor is avenged, so +help me God! You think she is dead?" he questioned, looking brokenly +from the one to the other. + +They only nodded their heads; they could not speak through their +sobs. + +At that moment several of the neighbors who were assisting in the +search were seen coming toward the cottage. + +They gathered in a little knot by the garden wall. With a heart +heavier than lead in his bosom John Brooks went forward to meet them. + +"You haven't got any track of my little Daisy?" he asked, despondingly. +The men averted their faces. "For God's sake speak out, my men!" he +cried, in agony; "I can't stand this suspense." + +"There are footprints in the wet grass down yonder," one of them +replied; "and they lead straight down to the old shaft. Do you think +your girl has made away with herself?" + +A gray, ghastly pallor settled over John Brooks' anguished face. + +"The Lord knows! All of you stay here while I go down there and look. +If I should find anything there I'd rather be alone." + +There was a depth of agony in the man's voice that touched his +hearers, and more than one coat-sleeve was drawn hastily across +sympathetic eyes as they whispered one to the other he would surely +find her there. + +John Brooks had reached the very mouth of the pit now, and through the +branches of the trees the men saw him suddenly spring forward, and +stoop as if to pick up something, and bitter cries rent the stillness +of the summer morning. + +"Daisy! oh, Daisy! my child, my child!" + +Then they saw him fall heavily to the ground on the very brink of the +shaft. + +"I guess he's found her!" cried the sympathizing men. "Let us go and +see." + +They found John Brooks insensible, lying prone on his face, grasping a +tiny little glove in one hand, and in the other a snowy little +handkerchief, which bore, in one corner, worked in fanciful design, +the name of "Daisy." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Glengrove was one of the most beautiful spots in the south of +Florida. The house--similar to many in the South in style of +architecture--stood in the midst of charming grounds which were +filled with flowers. To the left of the house was a large shrubbery +which opened on to a wide carriage-drive leading to the main road, +but the principal attraction of Glengrove was its magnificent +orange grove, where the brilliant sunshine loved to linger longest +among the dark-green boughs, painting the luscious fruit with its +own golden coloring--from green to gold. A low stone wall divided +it from the beach which led to the sea. + +It was early morning. In an elegant boudoir, whose oriel window +overlooked the garden, sat three young ladies, respectively, Bessie +Glenn, two-and-twenty; Gertie Glenn, twenty; and Eve Glenn, +eighteen--all dark-eyed, dark-haired, and handsome, yet each of a +distinct different type. + +"I declare, Bess," cried Gertie, indignantly, twisting the telegram +she held in her hand into a wisp, "it's from Uncle Jet! Guess what he +says!" + +"I couldn't possibly," yawns Bess, from the depths of her easy-chair; +"it's too much trouble." + +"Is it about Alice?" questioned Eve, maliciously. + +"Yes," replied Gertie; "but you are to try and guess what it is." + +"Why, I suppose some stranger has chanced to flutter down into the +quiet little village of Elmwood, and Alice thinks it her duty to stay +there and capture him." + +"That isn't it at all," snapped Gertie. "Uncle Jet says Alice can not +come; but he has taken the liberty of sending another young lady in +her stead, and hopes Miss Daisy Brooks will be the right person in the +right place. She will arrive on the twentieth, at nine A. M." + +Eve jumped to her feet in actual astonishment, and even Bessie dropped +her novel, with widely opened eyes. + +"Just fancy some tall, gaunt old maid of a companion, with such a +name!" she cried, raising her eyebrows and picking up her book again. +"I think you will find the daisy a rather ancient and faded flower." + +"She couldn't be anything else," assented Gertie. + +"Wouldn't it be fun if she should turn out to be young and pretty, and +take the shine off both of you?" laughed Eve, puckering up her mouth. +"I would enjoy it immensely!" + +"Eve, will you hold your tongue?" commanded Bessie, sharply. + +"You'd better hold your temper!" retorted Eve. + +"Pshaw! what's the use of being so silly as to quarrel over a Miss +Nobody?" cried Gertie, stamping her pretty slippered foot. "Guess what +else is the news." + +"Haven't I told you I despise guessing?" cried Bess, angrily. "It is +not good form to insist upon a person's guessing--please remember +it." + +"Write it down on ice," said Eve, _sotto voce_, mimicking her elder +sister's tone. + +"Well," said Gertie, with a look of triumph, "I drove over to Mrs. +Lyon's yesterday to see how everything was progressing for that +contemplated marriage, and, lo! she informs me the wedding is +postponed for the present, and Rex--handsome Rex--is coming home +alone." + +"No--o!" cried both the sisters in chorus. + +Bess sat bolt upright, and Eve danced around the room clapping her +hands. + +"I don't think much of a marriage which has been postponed," said +Bess, a bright spot glowing on both of her cheeks. "Who knows but what +one of us may have a chance of winning handsome Rex Lyon, after all? +He is certainly a golden prize!" + +"'Don't count the chickens,' etc.," quoted Eve, saucily. + +"Gertrude!" said Bess, severely, "you will learn after awhile never to +speak before Eve. She is as liable to do mischief as her namesake was +in the Garden of Eden." + +"You ought never to go back on your own sex," retorted Eve, banging +the door after her as she quitted the room, Rover, an ugly-looking +mastiff, closely following at her heels. + +"That is certainly an astonishing piece of news," said Bess, +reflectively, smoothing out the folds of her white cashmere morning +wrapper. "Now, here's a plan for you, Gertie. Find out his address in +some way, and we will write to him on some pretext or other. Rex has +probably quarreled with the haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, and +one of us ought certainly to catch his heart in the rebound. Send him +an invitation to your birthday party, Gertie." + +"I would be more likely to succeed than you, Bess," said Gertie, +rocking complacently to and fro, and looking maliciously at her +sister. "You remember he once remarked he did not like tall ladies, +and you are certainly tall, Bess." + +"Well, I'd rather be tall and willowy and graceful, than short and fat +and dumpy," jerked out Bess, spitefully. + +"What! at swords' points yet, eh? Ha, ha, ha!" cried Eve, suddenly, +popping her head in at the door. "I'll be back after awhile to see +which one of you gets the best of it." + +Before either of the sisters had time to reply, the family carriage +dashed suddenly up to the porch, and a moment later a slight, +dark-robed little figure was ushered into their presence. + +"This is Miss Brooks, mum," said Jim, the coachman, addressing the +elder sister. + +"I'd like to know why you have brought her in here?" cried Bess, +angrily. "Why did you not take her into the servants' hall or into the +kitchen?" + +But Jim had disappeared. + +"Well, now that you are here, you might sit down," suggested Gertie, +wondering what kind of a face was hid behind the long, thick, clinging +veil. "You may lay aside your bonnet and veil." + +Trembling and sick at heart with the cold greeting which had been +given her, Daisy did as she was bid. + +"Why, I declare, you are younger than I am!" cried Eve, impulsively. +"We were all expecting to see a wrinkled, dried-up old maid. Why, +you'd make a much better companion for me than for mother." + +"E--v--e!" cried the elder Miss Glenn, severely, "be kind enough to +leave the room." + +"I sha'n't go one step until I have had my say out," cried Eve, +planting herself firmly down on a hassock in the middle of the floor. +"Nobody likes me because I'm rude and free-spoken," declared Eve, +addressing Daisy; "but I believe in letting people know just what I am +to begin with. I'm not one of these sleek, smooth, tigery creatures +that hide their claws under velvet-paws. We are three model sisters," +she went on, recklessly; "we have tremendous spats--when we are here +alone; but if a visitor happens in we all sit with our arms around one +another, 'just to have the appearance' of affection, you know." + +The elder Miss Glenn arose with dignity, motioning Daisy to follow +her. + +"Papa will see you later, Eve, dear," she said, with a baleful glitter +in her sloe-black eyes; and as Daisy followed her she could not help +but compare her with Pluma Hurlhurst, with that treacherous, mocking +smile playing about her full, red lips--and quite unconsciously poor +little Daisy fell to thinking. + +"Rex will go back to Pluma Hurlhurst now," she thought, with a bitter +sigh. "He has cast me out of his life; he will go back and marry +her." + +Poor, innocent Daisy, how little she knew of life or the insurmountable +barrier which lay between the haughty, scheming heiress and Rex--her +husband! + +"I was asking you if you resided in Elmwood, Miss Brooks," said Bess, +raising her voice. "I have asked you twice." + +"I beg your pardon; please forgive me," said Daisy, flushing +painfully. "I--I was not aware you had spoken. No, I lived near +Elmwood--between there and Baltimore." + +Daisy was sorely afraid Miss Glenn would ask her to name the exact +location. She did not, however, much to Daisy's relief. By this time +they had reached the door of Mrs. Glenn's room, and as it was +slightly ajar Bessie pushed it open without further ceremony and +entered. + +"Has Miss Brooks come yet?" asked a thin, querulous voice. + +"Yes," answered Bessie; "here she is, mamma." + +The room was so dark Daisy could scarcely distinguish the different +objects for a moment or so. She saw, however, a dark figure on a couch +and a white jeweled hand waving a fan indolently to and fro. A sudden +impulse came over Daisy to turn and run away, but by a great effort +she controlled her feelings. + +"Step forward, if you please, Miss Brooks. I can not observe you well +at such a distance; do not tread on the poodle on the rug or brush +against the bric-a-brac placed indiscriminately about the room." + +"Oh, dear, if there were only a light," thought Daisy, in dismay. She +was afraid of taking a single step for fear some of the bric-a-brac +mentioned, either at the right or left of her, should come crashing +down under her blundering little feet. + +"I always exclude the broad glare of early morning light, as I find it +especially trying." + +As she spoke she threw back one of the shutters with the end of her +fan, and a warm flood of invigorating sunshine poured into the room. + +"Dear me," she cried, staring hard at the beautiful little face before +her. "Why, you are a child, scarcely older than my Eve. What could +that stupid brother of mine mean by sending you to me? I have a notion +to send you back again directly." + +"Oh, please do not, madame," cried Daisy, piteously. "Only try me +first; I will do my very best to please you." + +"But I did not want a young person," expostulated Mrs. Glenn. + +"But you sent for Alice, his daughter, and--and he thought I would do +as well," faltered Daisy, timidly. + +"Alice Jet is over forty, and you are not more than sixteen, I should +judge. How did you happen to think you could do as well as she?" + +The color came and went on Daisy's pretty flower-like face, and her +heart throbbed pitifully. + +"I am not so very wise or learned," she said, "but I should try so +hard to please you, if you will only let me try." + +"I suppose, now that you are here, we will have to make the best of +it," replied Mrs. Glenn, condescendingly. + +The fair beauty of the young girl's face did not please her. + +"I have always dreaded fair women," she thought to herself, "they are +the most dangerous of rivals. If she stays at Glengrove I shall see +she is kept well in the background." + +While in the morning-room below the three girls were discussing the +new turn of affairs vigorously. + +"I am determined she shall not remain here," Bessie Glenn was saying. + +"I heartily indorse your opinion," said Gertie, slowly. + +And for once in her life the tongue of reckless Eve was silent. She +looked thoughtfully out of the window. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +The first week of Daisy's stay at Glengrove passed quickly. She was +beginning to feel quite at home with Mrs. Glenn and Eve, but Bessie +and Gertie held aloof from her. She was beginning to believe she never +would be able to win her way to their hearts. Eve--warm-hearted, +impulsive Eve--took to her at once. + +"You are just the kind of a girl I like, Daisy," said Eve, twirling +one of her soft gold curls caressingly around her finger; "and if I +were a handsome young man, instead of a girl, I should fall +straightway in love with you. Why, what are you blushing so for?" +cried Eve. "Don't you like to talk about love and lovers?" + +"No," said Daisy, in a low voice, a distressed look creeping into her +blue eyes. "If you please, Eve, I'd rather not talk about such +things." + +"You are certainly a funny girl," said Eve, wonderingly. "Why, do you +know all the handsome young fellows around here have fallen deeply in +love with you, and have just been besieging both Bess and Gertie for +an introduction to you." + +No laughing rejoinder came from Daisy's red lips. There was an anxious +look in her eyes. Ah! this, then, accounted for the growing coldness +with which the two sisters greeted her. + +"You do not seem enough interested to even ask who they are," said +Eve, disappointedly. "I suppose you have never heard we have some +of the handsomest gentlemen around here to be met with in the +whole South--or in the North either, for that matter," said Eve, +enthusiastically. "Wait until you have seen some of them." + +How little she knew the girl's heart and soul was bound up in Rex, +whom she told herself she was never again to see. + +"Do you see that large gray, stone house yonder, whose turrets you +can just see beyond those trees?" asked Eve, suddenly, a mischievous +light dancing in her merry hazel eyes. + +"Yes," replied Daisy. "I have a fine view of it from my window +upstairs. I have seen a little child swinging to and fro in a hammock +beneath the trees. Poor little thing, she uses a crutch. Is she +lame?" + +"Yes," replied Eve, "that's little Birdie; she's lame. I do not want +to talk about her but about her brother. Oh, he is perfectly +splendid!" declared Eve, enthusiastically, "and rich, too. Why, he +owns I don't know how many cotton plantations and orange groves, and +he is--oh--so handsome! You must take care you do not fall in love +with him. All the girls do. If you did not, you would be a great +exception; you could scarcely help caring for him, he is so winning +and so nice," said Eve, blushing furiously. + +How poor little Daisy's heart longed for sympathy and consolation! Oh, +if she only dared tell Eve the great hidden sorrow that seemed eating +her heart away! She felt that she must unburden her heart to some one, +or it must surely break. + +"Eve," she said, her little hands closing softly over the restless +brown one drumming a tattoo on the window-sill, and her golden head +drooping so close to Eve's, her curls mingled with her dark locks, "I +could never love any one in this world again. I loved once--it was the +sweetest, yet the most bitter, experience of my life. The same voice +that spoke tender words to me cruelly cast me from him. Yet I love him +still with all my heart. Do not talk to me of love, or lovers, Eve, I +can not bear it. The world will never hold but one face for me, and +that is the face of him who is lost to me forever." + +"Oh, how delightfully romantic!" cried Eve. "I said to myself over and +over again there was some mystery in your life. I have seen such +strange shadows in your eyes, and your voice often had the sound of +tears in it. I do wish I could help you in some way," said Eve, +thoughtfully. "I'd give the world to set the matter straight for you. +What's his name, and where does he live?" + +"I can not tell you," said Daisy, shaking her golden curls sadly. + +"Oh, dear! then I do not see how I can help you," cried Eve. + +"You can not," replied Daisy; "only keep my secret for me." + +"I will," she cried, earnestly. + +And as they parted, Eve resolved in her own mind to bring this truant +lover of Daisy's back to his old allegiance; but the first and most +important step was to discover his name. + +Eve went directly to her own room, her brain whirling with a new plan, +which she meant to put into execution at once, while Daisy strolled on +through the grounds, choosing the less frequented paths. She wanted to +be all alone by herself to have a good cry. Somehow she felt so much +better for having made a partial confidante of Eve. + +The sun was beginning to sink in the west; still Daisy walked on, +thinking of Rex. A little shrill piping voice falling suddenly upon +her ears caused her to stop voluntarily. + +"Won't you please reach me my hat and crutch? I have dropped them on +your side of the fence." + +Daisy glanced around, wondering in which direction the voice came +from. + +"I am sitting on the high stone wall; come around on the other side of +that big tree and you will see me." + +The face that looked down into Daisy's almost took her breath away for +a single instant, it was so like Rex's. + +A bright, winning, childish face, framed in a mass of dark nut-brown +curls, and the brownest of large brown eyes. + +"Certainly," said Daisy, stooping down with a strange unexplainable +thrill at her heart and picking up the wide-brimmed sun-hat and +crutch, which was unfortunately broken by the fall. + +A low cry burst from the child's lips. + +"Oh, my crutch is broken!" she cried, in dismay. "What shall I do? I +can not walk back to the house. I am lame!" + +"Let me see if I can help you," said Daisy, scaling the stone wall +with the grace of a fawn. "Put your arms around my neck," she said, +"and cling very tight. I will soon have you down from your high perch; +never mind the crutch. I can carry you up to the porch; it is not very +far, and you are not heavy." + +In a very few moments Daisy had the child down safely upon _terra +firma_. + +"Thank you," said the child. "I know you are tired; we will rest a +moment, please, on this fallen log." + +The touch of the little girl's hands, the glance of the soft brown +eyes, and the tone of her voice seemed to recall every word and glance +of Rex, and hold a strange fascination for her. + +"I shall tell my mother and my brother how good you have been to me, +and they will thank you too. My name is Birdie; please tell me +yours." + +"My name is Daisy Brooks," she answered. + +Poor little girl-bride, there had been a time when she had whispered +to her heart that her name was Daisy Lyon; but that bright dream was +over now; she would never be aught else than--Daisy Brooks. + +"Is your name really Daisy?" cried the little girl in a transport of +delight, scarcely catching the last name. "Why, that is the name my +brother loves best in the world. You have such a sweet face," said the +child, earnestly. "I would choose the name of some flower as just +suited to you. I should have thought of Lily, Rose, Pansy, or Violet, +but I should never have thought of anything one half so pretty as +Daisy; it just suits you." + +All through her life Daisy felt that to be the sweetest compliment +ever paid her. Daisy laughed--the only happy laugh that had passed her +lips since she had met Rex that morning under the magnolia-tree. + +"Shall I tell you what my brother said about daisies?" + +"Yes, you may tell me, if you like," Daisy answered, observing the +child delighted to talk of her brother. + +"He has been away for a long time," explained Birdie. "He only came +home last night, and I cried myself to sleep, I was so glad. You see," +said the child, growing more confidential, and nestling closer to +Daisy's side, and opening wide her great brown eyes, "I was crying for +fear he would bring home a wife, and mamma was crying for fear he +wouldn't. I wrote him a letter all by myself once, and begged him not +to marry, but come home all alone, and you see he did," cried the +child, overjoyed. "When he answered my letter, he inclosed a little +pressed flower, with a golden heart and little white leaves around it, +saying: 'There is no flower like the daisy for me. I shall always +prize them as pearls beyond price.' I planted a whole bed of them +beneath his window, and I placed a fresh vase of them in his room, +mingled with some forget-me-nots, and when he saw them, he caught me +in his arms, and cried as though his heart would break." + +If the white fleecy clouds in the blue sky, the murmuring sea, or the +silver-throated bobolink swinging in the green leafy bough above her +head, had only whispered to Daisy why he loved the flowers so well +which bore the name of daisy, how much misery might have been spared +two loving hearts! The gray, dusky shadows of twilight were creeping +up from the sea. + +"Oh, see how late it is growing," cried Birdie, starting up in alarm. +"I am afraid you could not carry me up to the porch. If you could +only summon a servant, or--or--my brother." + +For answer, Daisy raised the slight burden in her arms with a smile. + +"I like you more than I can tell," said Birdie, laying her soft, pink, +dimpled cheek against Daisy's. "Won't you come often to the angle in +the stone wall? That is my favorite nook. I like to sit there and +watch the white sails glide by over the white crested waves." + +"Yes," said Daisy, "I will come every day." + +"Some time I may bring my brother with me; you must love him, too, +won't you?" + +"I should love any one who had you for a sister," replied Daisy, +clasping the little figure she held still closer in her arms; adding, +in her heart: "You are so like him." + +Birdie gave her such a hearty kiss, that the veil twined round her hat +tumbled about her face like a misty cloud. + +"You must put me down while you fix your veil," said Birdie. "You can +not see with it so. There are huge stones in the path, you would +stumble and fall." + +"So I shall," assented Daisy, as she placed the child down on the +soft, green grass. + +At that instant swift, springy footsteps came hurriedly down the path, +and a voice, which seemed to pierce her very heart, called: "Birdie, +little Birdie, where are you?" + +"Here, Brother Rex," called the child, holding out her arms to him +with eager delight. "Come here, Rex, and carry me; I have broken my +crutch." + +For one brief instant the world seemed to stand still around poor, +hapless Daisy, the forsaken girl-bride. The wonder was that she did +not die, so great was her intense emotion. Rex was standing before +her--the handsome, passionate lover, who had married her on the +impulse of the moment; the man whom she loved with her whole heart, at +whose name she trembled, of whom she had made an idol in her girlish +heart, and worshiped--the lover who had vowed so earnestly he would +shield her forever from the cold, cruel world, who had sworn eternal +constancy, while the faithful gleaming stars watched him from the blue +sky overhead. + +Yes, it was Rex! She could not see through the thick, misty veil, how +pale his face was in the gathering darkness. Oh, Heaven! how her +passionate little heart went out to him! How she longed, with a +passionate longing words could not tell, to touch his hand, or rest +her weary head on his breast. + +Her brain whirled; she seemed, to live ages in those few moments. +Should she throw herself on her knees, and cry out to him, "Oh, Rex, +Rex, my darling! I am _not_ guilty! Listen to me, my love. Hear my +pleading--listen to my prayer! I am more sinned against than sinning. +My life has been as pure as an angel's--take me back to your heart, or +I shall die!" + +"She has been so good to me, Rex," whispered Birdie, clinging to the +veil which covered Daisy's face. "I broke my crutch, and she has +carried me from the stone wall; won't you please thank her for me, +brother?" + +Daisy's heart nearly stopped beating; she knew the eventful moment of +her life had come, when Rex, her handsome young husband, turned +courteously toward her, extending his hand with a winning smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +On the day following Rex's return home, and the morning preceding the +events narrated in our last chapter, Mrs. Theodore Lyon sat in her +dressing-room eagerly awaiting her son; her eyebrows met in a dark +frown and her jeweled hands were locked tightly together in her lap. + +"Rex is like his father," she mused; "he will not be coerced in this +matter of marriage. He is reckless and willful, yet kind of heart. For +long years I have set my heart upon this marriage between Rex and +Pluma Hurlhurst. I say again it must be!" Mrs. Lyon idolized her only +son. "He would be a fitting mate for a queen," she told herself. The +proud, peerless beauty of the haughty young heiress of Whitestone Hall +pleased her. "She and no other shall be Rex's wife," she said. + +When Rex accepted the invitation to visit Whitestone Hall she smiled +complacently. + +"It can end in but one way," she told herself; "Rex will bring Pluma +home as his bride." + +Quite unknown to him, his elegant home had been undergoing repairs for +months. + +"There will be nothing wanting for the reception of his bride," she +said, viewing the magnificent suites of rooms which contained every +luxury that taste could suggest or money procure. + +Then came Rex's letter like a thunderbolt from a clear sky begging her +not to mention the subject again, as he could never marry Pluma +Hurlhurst. + +"I shall make a flying trip home," he said, "then I am going abroad." + +She did not notice how white and worn her boy's handsome face had +grown when she greeted him the night before, in the flickering light +of the chandelier. She would not speak to him then of the subject +uppermost in her mind. + +"Retire to your room at once, Rex," she said, "your journey has +wearied you. See, it is past midnight already. I will await you +to-morrow morning in my boudoir; we will breakfast there together." + +She leaned back against the crimson velvet cushions, tapping her satin +quilted slipper restlessly on the thick velvet carpet, ever and anon +glancing at her jeweled watch, wondering what could possibly detain +Rex. + +She heard the sound of a quick, familiar footstep in the corridor; a +moment later Rex was by her side. As she stooped down to kiss his face +she noticed, in the clear morning light, how changed he was. Her +jeweled hands lingered on his dark curls and touched his bright, proud +face. "What had come over this handsome, impetuous son of hers?" she +asked herself. + +"You have been ill, Rex," she said, anxiously, "and you have not told +me." + +"I have not, indeed, mother," he replied. + +"Not ill? Why, my dear boy, your face is haggard and worn, and there +are lines upon it that ought not to have been there for years. Rex," +she said, drawing him down on the sofa beside her, and holding his +strong white hands tightly clasped in her own, "I do not want to tease +you or bring up an unpleasant subject, but I had so hoped, my boy, you +would not come alone. I have hoped and prayed, morning and night, you +would bring home a bride, and that bride would be--Pluma Hurlhurst." + +Rex staggered from her arms with a groan. He meant to tell her the +whole truth, but the words seemed to fail him. + +"Mother," he said, turning toward her a face white with anguish, "in +Heaven's name, never mention love or marriage to me again or I shall +go mad. I shall never bring a bride here." + +"He has had a quarrel with Pluma," she thought. + +"Rex," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking down +into his face, "tell me, has Pluma Hurlhurst refused you? Tell me what +is the matter, Rex. I am your mother, and I have the right to know. +The one dream of my life has been to see Pluma your wife; I can not +give up that hope. If it is a quarrel it can be easily adjusted; +'true love never runs smooth,' you know." + +"It is not that, mother," said Rex, wearily bowing his head on his +hands. + +Then something like the truth seemed to dawn upon her. + +"My son," she said, in a slight tone of irritation, "Pluma wrote me of +that little occurrence at the lawn fete. Surely you are not in love +with that girl you were so foolishly attentive to--the overseer's +niece, I believe it was. I can not, I will not, believe a son of mine +could so far forget his pride as to indulge in such mad, reckless +folly. Remember, Rexford," she cried, in a voice fairly trembling with +suppressed rage, "I could never forgive such an act of recklessness. +She should never come here, I warn you." + +"Mother," said Rex, raising his head proudly, and meeting the flashing +scorn of her eyes unflinchingly, "you must not speak so; I--can not +listen to it." + +"By what right do you forbid me to speak of that girl as I choose?" +she demanded, in a voice hard and cold with intense passion. + +Once or twice Rex paced the length of the room, his arms folded upon +his breast. Suddenly he stopped before her. + +"What is this girl to you?" she asked. + +With white, quivering lips Rex answered back: + +"She is my wife!" + +The words were spoken almost in a whisper, but they echoed like +thunder through the room, and seemed to repeat themselves, over and +over again, during the moment of utter silence that ensued. Rex had +told his pitiful secret, and felt better already, as if the worst was +over; while his mother stood motionless and dumb, glaring upon him +with a baleful light in her eyes. He had dashed down in a single +instant the hopes she had built up for long years. + +"Let me tell you about it, mother," he said, kneeling at her feet. +"The worst and bitterest part is yet to come." + +"Yes, tell me," his mother said, hoarsely. + +Without lifting up his bowed head, or raising his voice, which was +strangely sad and low, Rex told his story--every word of it: how his +heart had went out to the sweet-faced, golden-haired little creature +whom he found fast asleep under the blossoming magnolia-tree in the +morning sunshine; how he protected the shrinking, timid little +creature from the cruel insults of Pluma Hurlhurst; how he persuaded +her to marry him out in the starlight, and how they had agreed to meet +on the morrow--that morrow on which he found the cottage empty and +his child-bride gone; of his search for her, and--oh, cruelest and +bitterest of all!--where and with whom he found her; how he had left +her lying among the clover, loving her too madly to curse her, yet +praying Heaven to strike him dead then and there. Daisy--sweet little, +blue-eyed Daisy was false; he never cared to look upon a woman's face +again. He spoke of Daisy as his wife over and over again, the name +lingering tenderly on his lips. He did not see how, at the mention of +the words, "My wife," his mother's face grew more stern and rigid, and +she clutched her hands so tightly together that the rings she wore +bruised her tender flesh, yet she did not seem to feel the pain. + +She saw the terrible glance that leaped into his eyes when he +mentioned Stanwick's name, and how he ground his teeth, like one +silently breathing a terrible curse. Then his voice fell to a +whisper. + +"I soon repented of my harshness," he said, "and I went back to +Elmwood; but, oh, the pity of it--the pity of it--I was too late; +little Daisy, my bride, was dead! She had thrown herself down a shaft +in a delirium. I would have followed her, but they held me back. I can +scarcely realize it, mother," he cried. "The great wonder is that I do +not go insane." + +Mrs. Lyon had heard but one word--"Dead." This girl who had inveigled +her handsome son into a low marriage was dead. Rex was free--free to +marry the bride whom she had selected for him. Yet she dare not +mention that thought to him now--no, not now; she must wait a little. + +No pity lurked in her heart for the poor little girl-bride whom she +supposed lying cold and still in death, whom her son so wildly +mourned; she only realized her darling Rex was free. What mattered it +to her at what bitter a cost Rex was free? She should yet see her +darling hopes realized. Pluma should be his wife, just as sure as they +both lived. + +"I have told you all now, mother," Rex said, in conclusion; "you must +comfort me, for Heaven knows I need all of your sympathy. You will +forgive me, mother," he said. "You would have loved Daisy, too, if you +had seen her; I shall always believe, through some enormous villainy, +Stanwick must have tempted her. I shall follow him to the ends of the +earth. I shall wring the truth from his lips. I must go away," he +cried--"anywhere, everywhere, trying to forget my great sorrow. How am +I to bear it? Has Heaven no pity, that I am so sorely tried?" + +At that moment little Birdie came hobbling into the room, and for a +brief moment Rex forgot his great grief in greeting his little +sister. + +"Oh, you darling brother Rex," she cried, clinging to him and laughing +and crying in one breath, "I told them to wake me up sure, if you came +in the night. I dreamed I heard your voice. You see, it must have been +real, but I couldn't wake up; and this morning I heard every one +saying: 'Rex is here, Rex is here,' and I couldn't wait another +moment, but I came straight down to you." + +Rex kissed the pretty little dimpled face, and the little chubby hands +that stroked his hair so tenderly. + +"Why, you have been crying, Rex," she cried out, in childish wonder. +"See, there are tear-drops on your eyelashes--one fell on my hand. +What is the matter, brother dear, are you not happy?" + +Birdie put her two little soft white arms around his neck, laying her +cheek close to his in her pretty, childish, caressing way. + +He tried to laugh lightly, but the laugh had no mirth in it. + +"You must run away and play, Birdie, and not annoy your brother," said +Mrs. Lyon, disengaging the child's clinging arms from Rex's neck. +"That child is growing altogether too observing of late." + +"Child!" cried Birdie. "I am ten years old. I shall soon be a young +lady like Bess and Gertie, over at Glengrove." + +"And Eve," suggested Rex, the shadow of a smile flickering around his +mouth. + +"No, not like Eve," cried the child, gathering up her crutch and +sun-hat as she limped toward the door; "Eve is not a young lady, she's +a Tom-boy; she wears short dresses and chases the hounds around, while +the other two wear silk dresses with big, big trains and have beaus to +hold their fans and handkerchiefs. I am going to take my new books you +sent me down to my old seat on the stone wall and read those pretty +stories there. I don't know if I will be back for lunch or not," she +called back; "if I don't, will you come for me, Brother Rex?" + +"Yes, dear," he made answer, "of course I will." + +The lunch hour came and went, still Birdie did not put in an +appearance. At last Rex was beginning to feel uneasy about her. + +"You need not be the least alarmed," said Mrs. Lyon, laughingly, "the +child is quite spoiled; she is like a romping gypsy, more content to +live out of doors in a tent than to remain indoors. She is probably +waiting down on the stone wall for you to come for her and carry her +home as you used to do. You had better go down and see, Rex; it is +growing quite dark." + +And Rex, all unconscious of the strange, invisible thread which fate +was weaving so closely about him, quickly made his way through the +fast-gathering darkness down the old familiar path which led through +the odorous orange groves to the old stone wall, guided by the shrill +treble of Birdie's childish voice, which he heard in the distance, +mingled with the plaintive murmur of the sad sea-waves--those waves +that seemed ever murmuring in their song the name of Daisy. Even the +subtle breeze seemed to whisper of her presence. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +"I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered my little +sister," said Rex, extending his hand to the little veiled figure +standing in the shade of the orange-trees. "Allow me to thank you for +it." + +Poor Daisy! she dared not speak lest the tones of her voice should +betray her identity. + +"I must for evermore be as one dead to him," she whispered to her +wildly beating heart. + +Rex wondered why the little, fluttering, cold fingers dropped so +quickly from his clasp; he thought he heard a stifled sigh; the +slight, delicate form looked strangely familiar, yet he could see it +was neither Eve, Gerty, nor Bess. She bowed her head with a few +low-murmured words he scarcely caught, and the next instant the little +figure was lost to sight in the darkness beyond. + +"Who was that, Birdie?" he asked, scarcely knowing what prompted the +question. + +Alas for the memory of childhood! poor little Birdie had quite +forgotten. + +"It is so stupid of me to forget, but when I see her again I shall ask +her and try and remember it then." + +"It is of no consequence," said Rex, raising the little figure in his +arms and bearing her quickly up the graveled path to the house. + +As he neared the house Rex observed there was great confusion among +the servants; there was a low murmur of voices and lights moving to +and fro. + +"What is the matter, Parker?" cried Rex, anxiously, of the servant who +came out to meet him. + +"Mrs. Lyon is very ill, sir," he answered, gravely; "it is a +paralytic stroke the doctor says. We could not find you, so we went +for Doctor Elton at once." + +It seemed but a moment since he had parted from his mother in the +gathering twilight, to search for Birdie. His mother very ill--dear +Heaven! he could scarcely realize it. + +"Oh, take me to mother, Rex!" cried Birdie, clinging to him piteously. +"Oh, it can not, it cannot be true; take me to her, Rex!" + +The sound of hushed weeping fell upon his ears and seemed to bring to +him a sense of what was happening. Like one in a dream he hurried +along the corridor toward his mother's boudoir. He heard his mother's +voice calling for him. + +"Where is my son?" she moaned. + +He opened the door quietly and went in. Her dark eyes opened feebly as +Rex entered, and she held out her arms to him. + +"Oh, my son, my son!" she cried; "thank Heaven you are here!" + +She clung to him, weeping bitterly. It was the first time he had ever +seen tears in his mother's eyes, and he was touched beyond words. + +"It may not be as bad as you think, mother," he said; "there is always +hope while there is life." + +She raised her face to her son's, and he saw there was a curious +whiteness upon it. + +The large, magnificent room was quite in shadow; soft shadows filled +the corners; the white statuettes gleamed in the darkness; one blind +was half drawn, and through it came the soft, sweet moonlight. A large +night-lamp stood upon the table, but it was carefully shaded. Faint +glimmers of light fell upon the bed, with its costly velvet hangings, +and on the white, drawn face that lay on the pillows, with the gray +shadow of death stealing softly over it--the faint, filmy look that +comes only into eyes that death has begun to darken. + +His mother had never been demonstrative; she had never cared for many +caresses; but now her son's love seemed her only comfort. + +"Rex," she said, clinging close to him, "I feel that I am dying. Send +them all away--my hours are numbered--a mist rises before my face, +Rex. Oh, dear Heaven! I can not see you--I have lost my sight--my eyes +grow dim." + +A cry came from Rex's lips. + +"Mother, dear mother," he cried, "there is no pain in this world I +would not undergo for your dear sake!" he cried, kissing the +stiffening lips. + +She laid her hands on the handsome head bent before her. + +"Heaven bless you, my son," she murmured. "Oh, Rex, my hope and my +trust are in you!" she wailed. "Comfort me, calm me--I have suffered +so much. I have one last dying request to make of you, my son. You +will grant my prayer, Rex? Surely Heaven would not let you refuse my +last request!" + +Rex clasped her in his arms. This was his lady-mother, whose proud, +calm, serene manner had always been perfect--whose fair, proud face +had never been stained with tears--whose lips had never been parted +with sighs or worn with entreaties. + +It was so new to him, so terrible in its novelty, he could hardly +understand it. He threw his arms around her, and clasped her closely +to his breast. + +"My dearest mother," he cried, "you know I would die for you if dying +would benefit you. Why do you doubt my willingness to obey your +wishes, whatever they may be? Whatever I can do to comfort you I will +surely do it, mother." + +"Heaven bless you, Rex!" she cried, feebly caressing his face and his +bands. "You make death a thousand-fold more easy to bear, my darling, +only son!" + +"My dear sir," said the doctor, bending over him gently, "I must +remind you your mother's life hangs on a thread. The least excitement, +the least agitation, and she will be dead before you can call for +help. No matter what she may say to you, listen and accede." + +Rex bent down and kissed the pale, agitated face on the pillow. + +"I will be careful of my dearest mother. Surely you may trust me," he +said. + +"I do," replied the doctor, gravely. "Your mother's life, for the +present, lies in your hands." + +"Is it true, Rex, that I must die?" she gasped. The look of anguish on +his face answered her. "Rex," she whispered, clinging like a child to +his strong white hands, "my hope and trust are in you, my only son. I +am going to put your love to the test, my boy. I beseech you to say +'Yes' to the last request I shall ever make of you. Heaven knows, Rex, +I would not mention it now, but I am dying--yes, dying, Rex." + +"You need not doubt it, mother," he replied, earnestly, "I can not +refuse anything you may ask! Why should I?" + +But, as he spoke, he had not the faintest idea of what he would be +asked to do. As he spoke his eyes caught the gleam of the moonlight +through the window, and his thoughts traveled for one moment to the +beloved face he had seen in the moonlight--how fair and innocent the +face was as they parted on the night they were wed! The picture of +that lonely young girl-wife, going home by herself, brought tears to +his eyes. + +"Was there ever a fate so cruel?" he said to himself. "Who ever lost a +wife on his wedding-day?" + +Surely there had never been a love-dream so sweet, so passionate, or +so bright as his. Surely there had never been one so rudely broken. + +Poor little Daisy--his wife--lying cold and still in death. Even his +mother was to be taken from him. + +The feeble pressure of his mother's hands recalled his wandering +thoughts. + +"Listen, Rex," she whispered, faintly, "my moments are precious." + +He felt his mother's arms clasp closely round his neck. + +"Go on, mother," he said, gently. + +"Rex, my son," she whispered, gaspingly, "I could not die and leave +the words unspoken. I want my race to live long generations after me. +Your poor little lame sister will go unmarried to the grave; and now +all rests with you, my only son. You understand me, Rex; you know the +last request I have to ask." + +For the first time a cry came to Rex's lips; her words pierced like a +sword in his heart. + +"Surely, mother, you do not mean--you do not think I could ever--" + +The very horror of the thought seemed to completely unman him. + +"You will marry again," she interrupted, finishing the sentence he +could not utter. "Remember, she whom you loved is dead. I would not +have asked this for long years to come, but I am dying--I must speak +now." + +"My God, mother!" he cried out in agony, "ask anything but that. My +heart is torn and bleeding; have pity on me, have pity!" + +Great drops of agony started on his brow; his whole frame shook with +agitation. + +He tried to collect himself, to gather his scattered thoughts, to +realize the full import of the words she had spoken. + +Marry again! Heaven pity him! How could he harbor such a thought for a +single instant, when he thought of the pale, cold face of little +Daisy--his fair young bride--whom he so madly loved, lying pale and +still in death, like a broken lily, down in the dark, bottomless pit +which never yielded up its terrible secrets! + +"Rex," wailed his mother, feebly, gazing into his eyes with a suspense +heart-breaking to witness, "don't refuse me this the first prayer I +had ever made. If you mean to refuse it would be kinder far to plunge +a dagger into my heart and let me die at once. You can not refuse." +One trembling hand she laid on his breast, and with the other caressed +his face. "You are good and gentle of heart, Rex; the prayers of your +dying mother will touch you. Answer me, my son; tell me my proud old +race shall not die with you, and I will rest calmly in my grave." + +The cold night-wind fanned his pallid brow, and the blood coursed +through his veins like molten lead. He saw the tears coursing down her +pale, withered cheeks. Ah, God! was it brave to speak the words which +must bring despair and death to her? Was it filial to send his mother +to her grave with sorrow and sadness in her heart? Could he thrust +aside his mother's loving arms and resist her dying prayer? Heaven +direct him, he was so sorely tried. + +"Comfort me, Rex," she whispered, "think of how I have loved you since +you were a little child, how I used to kiss your rosy little face and +dream what your future would be like. It comes back to me now while I +plead to you with my fast-fleeting breath. Oh, answer me, Rex." + +All the love and tenderness of the young man's impulsive heart was +stirred by the words. Never was a man so fearfully tried. Rex's +handsome face had grown white with emotion; deep shadows came into his +eyes. Ah, what could it matter now? His hopes were dead, his heart +crushed, yet how could he consent? + +"Oh, Heaven, Rex!" she cried, "what does that look on your face mean? +What is it?" + +The look of terror on her face seemed to force the mad words from his +lips, the magnetic gaze seemed to hold him spellbound. He bent over +hie mother and laid his fresh, brave young face on the cold, white +face of his dying mother. + +"Promise me, Rex," she whispered. + +"I promise, mother!" he cried. "God help me; if it will make your last +moments happier, I consent." + +"Heaven bless you, my noble son!" whispered the quivering voice. "You +have taken the bitter sting from death, and filled my heart with +gratitude. Some day you will thank me for it, Rex." + +They were uttered! Oh, fatal words! Poor Rex, wedded and parted, his +love-dream broken, how little he knew of the bitter grief which was to +accrue from that promise wrung from his white lips. + +Like one in a dream he heard her murmur the name of Pluma Hurlhurst. +The power of speech seemed denied him; he knew what she meant. He +bowed his head on her cold hands. + +"I have no heart to give her," he said, brokenly. "My heart is with +Daisy, my sweet little lost love." + +Poor Rex! how little he knew Daisy was at that self-same moment +watching with beating heart the faint light of his window through the +branches of the trees--Daisy, whom he mourned as dead, alas! dead to +him forever, shut out from his life by the rash words of that fatally +cruel promise. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +One thought only was uppermost in Daisy's mind as she sped swiftly +down the flower-bordered path in the moonlight, away from the husband +who was still so dear to her. + +"He did not recognize me," she panted, in a little quivering voice. +"Would he have cursed me, I wonder, had he known it was I?" + +Down went the little figure on her knees in the dew-spangled grass +with a sharp little cry. + +"Oh, dear, what shall I do?" she cried out in sudden fright. "How +could I know she was his sister when I told her my name?" A twig fell +from the bough above her head brushed by some night-bird's wing. "He +is coming to search for me," she whispered to herself. + +A tremor ran over her frame; the color flashed into her cheek and +parted lips, and a startled, wistful brightness crept into the blue +eyes. + +Ah! there never could have been a love so sweetly trustful and +child-like as little Daisy's for handsome Rex, her husband in name +only. + +Poor, little, innocent Daisy! if she had walked straight back to him, +crying out, "Rex, Rex, see, I am Daisy, your wife!" how much untold +sorrow might have been spared her. + +Poor, little, lonely, heart-broken child-bride! how was she to know +Rex had bitterly repented and come back to claim her, alas! too late; +and how he mourned her, refusing to be comforted, and how they forced +him back from the edge of the treacherous shaft lest he should plunge +headlong down the terrible depths. Oh, if she had but known all this! + +If Rex had dropped down from the clouds she could not have been more +startled and amazed at finding him in such close proximity away down +in Florida. + +She remembered he had spoken to her of his mother, as he clasped her +to his heart out in the starlight of that never-to-be-forgotten night, +whispering to her of the marriage which had been the dearest wish of +his mother's heart. + +She remembered how she had hid her happy, rosy, blushing face on his +breast, and asked him if he was quite sure he loved her better than +Pluma Hurlhurst, the haughty, beautiful heiress. + +"Yes, my pretty little sweetheart, a thousand times better," he had +replied, emphatically, holding her off at arm's-length, watching the +heightened color that surged over the dainty, dimpled face so plainly +discernible in the white, radiant starlight. + +Daisy rested her head on one soft, childish hand, and gazed +thoughtfully up at the cold, brilliant stars that gemmed the heavens +above her. + +"Oh, if you had only warned me, little stars!" she said. "I was so +happy then; and now life is so bitter!" + +A sudden impulse seized her, strong as her very life, to look upon his +face again. + +"I would be content to live my weary life out uncomplainingly then," +she said. + +Without intent or purpose she walked hurriedly back through the +pansy-bordered path she had so lately traversed. + +The grand old trees seemed to stretch their giant arms protectingly +over her, as if to ward off all harm. + +The night-wind fanned her flushed cheeks and tossed her golden curls +against her wistful, tear-stained face. Noiselessly she crept up the +wide, graveled path that led to his home--the home which should have +been hers. + +Was it fancy? She thought she heard Rex's voice crying out: "Daisy, my +darling!" How pitifully her heart thrilled! Dear Heaven! if it had +only been true. It was only the restless murmur of the waves sighing +among the orange-trees. + +A light burned dimly in an upper window. Suddenly a shadow fell across +the pale, silken curtains. She knew but too well whose shadow it was; +the proud, graceful poise of the handsome head, and the line of the +dark curls waving over the broad brow, could belong to no one but Rex. +There was no one but the pitying moonlight out there to see how +passionately the poor little child-bride kissed the pale roses on +which that shadow had fallen, and how she broke it from the stem and +placed it close to her beating heart--that lonely, starved little +heart, chilled under the withering frost of neglect, when life, love +and happiness should have been just bursting into bloom for her. + +"He said I had spoiled his life," she sighed, leaning her pale face +wearily against the dark-green ivy vines. "He must have meant I had +come between him and Pluma. Will he go back to her, now that he +believes me dead?" + +One question alone puzzled her: Had Birdie mentioned her name, and +would he know it was she, whom every one believed lying so cold and +still in the bottomless pit? She could not tell. + +"If I could but see Birdie for a moment," she thought, "and beseech +her to keep my secret!" + +Birdie had said her brother was soon going away again. + +"How could I bear it?" she asked herself, piteously. + +It was not in human nature to see the young husband whom she loved so +well drifting so completely away from her and still remain silent. "I +will watch over him from afar; I will be his guardian angel; I must +remain as one dead to him forever," she told herself. + +Afar off, over the dancing, moonlighted waters she saw a pleasure-boat +gliding swiftly over the rippling waves. She could hear their merry +laughter and gay, happy voices, and snatches of mirthful songs. +Suddenly the band struck up an old, familiar strain. Poor little Daisy +leaned her head against the iron railing of the porch and listened to +those cruel words--the piece that they played was "Love's Young +Dream." + +Love's young dream! Ah! how cruelly hers had ended! She looked up at +the white, fleecy clouds above her, vaguely wondering why the love of +one person made the earth a very paradise, or a wilderness. As the +gay, joyous music floated up to her the words of the poet found echo +in her heart in a passionate appeal: + + "No one could tell, for nobody knew, + Why love was made to gladden a few; + And hearts that would forever be true, + Go lone and starved the whole way through," + +Oh, it was such a blessed relief to her to watch that shadow. Rex was +pacing up and down the room now, his arms folded and his head bent on +his breast. Poor, patient little Daisy, watching alone out in the +starlight, was wondering if he was thinking of her. + +No thought occurred to her of being discovered there with her arms +clasped around that marble pillar watching so intently the shadow of +that graceful, manly figure pacing to and fro. + +No thought occurred to her that a strange event was at that moment +transpiring within those walls, or that something unusual was about to +happen. + +How she longed to look upon his face for just one brief moment! +Estrangement had not chilled her trusting love, it had increased it, +rather, tenfold. + +Surely it was not wrong to gaze upon that shadow--he was her husband. + +In that one moment a wild, bitter thought swept across her heart. + +Did Rex regret their marriage because she was poor, friendless, and an +orphan? Would it have been different if she had been the heiress of +Whitestone Hall? + +She pitied herself for her utter loneliness. There was no one to whom +she could say one word of all that filled her heart and mind, no face +to kiss, no heart to lean on; she was so completely alone. And this +was the hour her fate was being decided for her. There was no sympathy +for her, her isolation was bitter. She thought of all the heroines she +had ever read of. Ah, no one could picture such a sad fate as was +hers. + +A bright thought flashed across her lonely little heart. + +"His mother is there," she sighed. "Ah, if I were to go to her and cry +out: 'Love me, love me! I am your son's wife!' would she cast me from +her? Ah, no, surely not; a woman's gentle heart beats in her breast, a +woman's tender pity. I will plead with her on my knees--to comfort +me--to show me some path out of the pitiful darkness; I can love her +because she is his mother." + +Daisy drew her breath quickly; the color glowed warmly on her cheek +and lips; she wondered she had not thought of it before. Poor child! +she meant to tell her all, and throw herself upon her mercy. + +Her pretty, soft blue eyes, tender with the light of love, were +swimming with tears. A vain hope was struggling in her heart--Rex's +mother might love her, because she worshiped her only son so dearly. + +Would she send her forth from that home that should have sheltered +her, or would she clasp those little cold fingers in Rex's strong +white ones, as she explained to him, as only a mother can, how sadly +he had misjudged poor little Daisy--his wife? + +No wonder her heart throbbed pitifully as she stole silently +across the wide, shadowy porch, and, quivering from head to foot, +touched the bell that echoed with a resounding sound through the long +entrance-hall. + +"I would like to see Mrs. Lyon," she said, hesitatingly, to the +servant who answered her summons. "Please do not refuse me," she said, +clasping her little white hands pleadingly. "I must see her at once. +It is a question of life or death with me. Oh, sir, please do not +refuse me. I must see her at once--and--all alone!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +In the beautiful drawing-room at Whitestone Hall sat Pluma Hurlhurst, +running her white, jeweled fingers lightly over the keyboard of a +grand piano, but the music evidently failed to charm her. She arose +listlessly and walked toward the window, which opened out upon the +wide, cool, rose-embowered porch. + +The sunshine glimmered on her amber satin robe, and the white +frost-work of lace at her throat, and upon the dark, rich beauty of +her southern face. + +"Miss Pluma," called Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, entering the room, +"there is a person down-stairs who wishes to see you. I have told her +repeatedly it is an utter impossibility--you would not see her; but +she declares she will not go away until she does see you." + +Pluma turns from the window with cold disdain. + +"You should know better than to deliver a message of this kind to me. +How dare the impertinent, presuming beggar insist upon seeing me! +Order the servants to put her out of the house at once." + +"She is not young," said the venerable housekeeper, "and I thought, if +you only would--" + +"Your opinion was not called for, Mrs. Corliss," returned the heiress, +pointing toward the door haughtily. + +"I beg your pardon," the housekeeper made answer, "but the poor +creature begged so hard to see you I did feel a little sorry for +her." + +"This does not interest me, Mrs. Corliss," said Pluma, turning toward +the window, indicating the conversation was at an end--"not in the +least." + +"The Lord pity you, you stony-hearted creature!" murmured the +sympathetic old lady to herself as the door closed between them. "One +word wouldn't have cost you much, Heaven knows, it's mightly little +comfort poor old master takes with you! You are no more like the +bonny race of Hurlhursts than a raven is like a white dove!" And the +poor old lady walked slowly back to the dark-robed figure in the hall, +so eagerly awaiting her. + +"There was no use in my going to my young mistress; I knew she would +not see you. But I suppose you are more satisfied now." + +"She utterly refuses to see me, does she," asked the woman, in an +agitated voice, "when you told her I wished to see her particularly?" + +The housekeeper shook her head. + +"When Miss Pluma once makes up her mind to a thing, no power on earth +could change her mind," she said; "and she is determined she won't see +you, so you may as well consider that the end of it." + +Without another word the stranger turned and walked slowly down the +path and away from Whitestone Hall. + +"Fool that I was!" she muttered through her clinched teeth. "I might +have foreseen this. But I will haunt the place day and night until I +see you, proud heiress of Whitestone Hall. We shall see--time will +tell." + +Meanwhile Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was staring after her with +wondering eyes. + +"I have heard that voice and seen that face somewhere," she ruminated, +thoughtfully; "but where--where? There seems to be strange leaks in +this brain of mine--I can not remember." + +A heavy, halting step passed the door, and stopped there. + +"What did that woman want, Mrs. Corliss?" + +She started abruptly from her reverie, replying, hesitatingly. + +"She wanted to see Miss Pluma, sir." + +"Was Pluma so busily engaged she could not spare that poor creature a +moment or so?" he inquired, irritably. "Where is she?" + +"In the parlor, sir." + +With slow, feeble steps, more from weakness than age, Basil Hurlhurst +walked slowly down the corridor to the parlor. + +It was seldom he left his own apartments of late, yet Pluma never +raised her superb eyes from the book of engravings which lay in her +lap as he entered the room. + +A weary smile broke under his silver-white mustache. + +"You do not seem in a hurry to bid me welcome, Pluma," he said, +grimly, throwing himself down into an easy-chair opposite her. "I +congratulate myself upon having such an affectionate daughter." + +Pluma tossed aside her book with a yawn. + +"Of course I am glad to see you," she replied, carelessly; "but you +can not expect me to go into ecstasies over the event like a child in +pinafores might. You ought to take it for granted that I'm glad you +are beginning to see what utter folly it is to make such a recluse of +yourself." + +He bit his lip in chagrin. As is usually the case with invalids, he +was at times inclined to be decidedly irritable, as was the case just +now. + +"It is you who have driven me to seek the seclusion of my own +apartments, to be out of sight and hearing of the household of +simpering idiots you insist upon keeping about you," he cried, +angrily. "I came back to Whitestone Hall for peace and rest. Do I get +it? No." + +"That is not my fault," she answered, serenely. "You do not mingle +with the guests. I had no idea they could annoy you." + +"Well, don't you suppose I have eyes and ears, even if I do not mingle +with the chattering magpies you fill the house up with? Why, I can +never take a ramble in the grounds of an evening without stumbling +upon a dozen or more pair of simpering lovers at every turn. I like +darkness and quiet. Night after night I find the grounds strung up +with these Chinese lanterns, and I can not even sleep in my bed for +the eternal brass bands at night; and in the daytime not a moment's +quiet do I get for these infernal sonatas and screeching trills of the +piano. I tell you plainly, I shall not stand this thing a day longer. +I am master of Whitestone Hall yet, and while I live I shall have +things my own way. After I die you can turn it into a pandemonium, for +all I care." + +Pluma flashed her large dark eyes upon him surprisedly, beginning to +lose her temper, spurred on by opposition. + +"I am sure I do not mean to make a hermit of myself because you are +too old to enjoy the brightness of youth," she flashed out, defiantly; +"and you ought not to expect it--it is mean and contemptible of you." + +"Pluma!" echoed Basil Hurlhurst, in astonishment, his noble face +growing white and stern with suppressed excitement, "not another +word." + +Pluma tossed her head contemptuously. When once her temper arose it +was quite as impossible to check it as it was when she was a willful, +revengeful, spoiled child. + +"Another man as rich as you are would have taken their daughter to +Washington for a season, and in the summer to Long Branch or +Newport--somewhere, anywhere, away from the detestable waving +cotton-fields. When you die I shall have it all set on fire." + +"Pluma!" he cried, hoarsely, rising to his feet and drawing his +stately, commanding figure to its full height, "I will not brook such +language from a child who should at least yield me obedience, if not +love. You are not the heiress of Whitestone Hall yet, and you never +may be. If I thought you really contemplated laying waste these waving +fields that have been my pride for long years--and my father's before +me--I would will it to an utter stranger, so help me Heaven!" + +Were his words prophetic? How little she knew the echo of these words +were doomed to ring for all time down the corridors of her life! How +little we know what is in store for us! + +"I am your only child," said Pluma, haughtily; "you would not rob me +of my birthright. I shall be forced to submit to your pleasure--while +you are here--but, thank Heaven, the time is not far distant when I +shall be able to do as I please. 'The mills of the gods grind slowly, +but they grind exceeding fine,'" she quoted, saucily. + +"Thank Heaven the time is not far distant when I shall be able to do +as I please." He repeated the words slowly after her, each one sinking +into his heart like a poisoned arrow. "So you would thank Heaven for +my death, would you?" he cried, with passion rising to a white heat. +"Well, this is no better than I could expect from the daughter--of +such a mother." + +He had never intended speaking those words; but she goaded him on to +it with her taunting, scornful smile, reminding him so bitterly of the +one great error of his past life. + +He was little like the kind, courteous master of Whitestone Hall, whom +none named but to praise, as he stood there watching the immovable +face of his daughter. All the bitterness of his nature was by passion +rocked. No look of pain or anguish touched the dark beauty of that +southern face at the mention of her mother's name. + +"You have spoken well," she said. "I am her child. You speak of love," +she cried, contemptuously. "Have you not told me, a thousand times, +you never cared for my mother? How, then, could I expect you to care +for me? Have you not cried out unceasingly for the golden-haired young +wife and the babe you lost, and that you wished Heaven had taken you +too? Did I ever hear my mother's name upon your lips except with a +sneer? Do you expect these things made that mother's child more fond +of you, were you twenty times my father?" + +She stood up before him, proudly defiant, like a beautiful tragedy +queen, the sunlight slanting on the golden vines of her amber satin +robe, on the long, dark, silken curls fastened with a ruby star, and +on the deep crimson-hearted passion-roses that quivered on her heaving +breast. There was not one feature of that gloriously dark face that +resembled the proud, cold man sitting opposite her. + +He knew all she had said was quite true. He had tried so hard to love +this beautiful queenly girl from her infancy up. He was tender of +heart, honest and true; but an insurmountable barrier seemed ever +between them; each year found them further apart. + +Basil Hurlhurst lived over again in those few moments the terrible +folly that had cursed his youth, as he watched the passion-rocked face +before him. + +"Youth is blind and will not see," had been too bitterly true with +him. It was in his college days, when the world seemed all gayety, +youth and sunshine to him, he first met the beautiful face that was to +darken all of his after life. He was young and impulsive; he thought +it was love that filled his heart for the beautiful stranger who +appeared alone and friendless in that little college town. + +He never once asked who or what she was, or from whence she came, this +beautiful creature with the large, dark, dreamy eyes that thrilled his +heart into love. She carried the town by storm; every young man at the +college was deeply, desperately in love. But Basil, the handsomest and +wealthiest of them all, thought what a lark it would be to steal a +march on them all by marrying the dark-eyed beauty then and there. He +not only thought it, but executed it, but it was not the lark that he +thought it was going to be. For one short happy week he lived in a +fool's paradise, then a change came over the spirit of his dreams. In +that one week she had spent his year's income and all the money he +could borrow, then petulantly left him in anger. + +For two long years he never looked upon her face again. One stormy +night she returned quite unexpectedly at Whitestone Hall, bringing +with her their little child Pluma, and, placing her in her father's +arms, bitter recriminations followed. Bitterly Basil Hurlhurst +repented that terrible mistake of his youth, that hasty marriage. + +When the morning light dawned he took his wife and child from +Whitestone Hall--took them abroad. What did it matter to him where +they went? Life was the same to him in one part of the world as +another. For a year they led a weary life of it. Heaven only knew how +weary he was of the woman the law called his wife! + +One night, in a desperate fit of anger, she threw herself into the +sea; her body was never recovered. Then the master of Whitestone Hall +returned with his child, a sadder and wiser man. + +But the bitterest drop in his cup had been added last. The golden-haired +young wife, the one sweet love whom he had married last, was taken +from him; even her little child, tiny image of that fair young mother, +had not been spared him. + +How strange it was such a passionate yearning always came over him +when he thought of his child! + +When he saw a fair, golden-haired young girl, with eyes of blue, the +pain in his heart almost stifled him. Some strange unaccountable fate +urged him to ever seek for that one face even in the midst of crowds. +It was a mad, foolish fancy, yet it was the one consolation of Basil +Hurlhurst's weary, tempest tossed life. + +No wonder he set his teeth hard together as he listened to the cold +words of the proud, peerless beauty before him, who bore every +lineament of her mother's dark, fatal beauty--this daughter who +scornfully spoke of the hour when he should die as of some happy, +long-looked-for event. + +Those waving cotton-fields that stretched out on all sides as far as +the eye could reach, like a waving field of snow, laid waste beneath +the fire fiend's scorching breath! Never--never! + +Then and there the proud, self-conscious young heiress lost all +chances of reigning a regal queen, by _fair_ means, of Whitestone +Hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +The servant who opened the door for Daisy looked earnestly at the +fair, pleading young face, framed in rings of golden hair, so pure and +spiritual that it looked like an angel's with the soft white moonlight +falling over it. + +"You will not refuse me," she repeated, timidly. "I must speak to Mrs. +Lyon." + +"You have come too late," he replied, gently; "Mrs. Lyon is dead." + +The man never forgot the despairing look of horror that deepened in +the childish blue eyes raised to his. + +"Rex's mother dead!" she repeated, slowly, wondering if she had heard +aright. "Oh, my poor Rex, my poor Rex!" + +How she longed to go to him and comfort him in that terrible hour, but +she dared not intrude upon him. + +"If there is any message you would like to leave," said the +kind-hearted Parker, "I will take it to Mr. Rex." + +"No," said Daisy, shaking her head, "I have no message to leave; +perhaps I will come again--after this is all over," she made answer, +hesitatingly; her brain was in a whirl; she wanted to get away all by +herself to think. "Please don't say any one was here," she said, +quickly; "I--I don't want any one to know." + +The sweet, plaintive voice, as sweet as the silvery note of a forest +bird, went straight to his heart. + +Whatever the mission of this beautiful, mysterious visitor, he would +certainly respect her wishes. + +"I shall not mention it if you do not wish it," he said. + +"Thank you," she replied, simply; "you are very kind. My life seems +made up of disappointments," she continued, as she walked slowly home +under the restless, sighing green branches. + +It seemed so indeed. She was so young and inexperienced to be thrown +so entirely upon the cold, pitiless world--cut off so entirely from +all human sympathy. She entered the house quite unobserved. +Eve--bright, merry, dashing Eve--was singing like a lark in the +drawing-room, making the old house echo with her bright young voice. + +"How happy she is!" thought Daisy, wistfully. "She has home, friends, +and love, while I have nothing that makes life worth the living." + +Like a shadow, she flitted on through the dim, shadowy hall, toward +her own little room. She saw Gertie's door was ajar as she passed it, +and the sound of her own name caused her to pause voluntarily. + +It was very natural for Daisy to pause. How many are there who would +have passed on quietly, with no desire to know what was being said of +themselves, when they heard their own names mentioned in such a +sneering manner? Daisy certainly meant no harm by it; she paused, +thoughtfully and curiously, as any one would have done. + +"I am sure I don't like it," Gertie was saying, spitefully. "It is an +actual shame allowing Daisy Brooks to remain here. Uncle Jet was a +mean old thing to send her here, where there were three marriageable +young ladies. I tell you he did it out of pure spite." + +"I believe it," answered Bess, spiritedly. "Every one of my beaus +either hints for an introduction or asks for it outright." + +"What do you tell them?" questions Gertie, eagerly. + +"Tell them! Why, I look exceedingly surprised, replying: 'I do not +know to whom you refer. We have no company at the house just now.' 'I +mean that beautiful, golden-haired little fairy, with the rosy cheeks +and large blue eyes. If not your guest, may I ask who she is?' I am +certainly compelled to answer so direct a thrust," continued Bess, +angrily; "and I ask in well-feigned wonder: 'Surely you do not mean +Daisy Brooks, my mother's paid companion?'" + +"What do they say to that?" asked Gertie, laughing heartily at her +elder sister's ingenuity, and tossing her curl papers until every curl +threatened to tumble down. "That settles it, doesn't it?" + +"Mercy, no!" cried Bess, raising her eyebrows; "not a bit of it. The +more I say against her--in a sweet way, of course--the more they are +determined to form her acquaintance." + +"I don't see what every one can see in that little pink-and-white +baby-face of hers to rave over so!" cried Gertie, hotly. "I can't +imagine where in the world people see her. I have as much as told her +she was not expected to come into the parlor or drawing-room when +strangers were there, and what do you suppose she said?" + +"Cried, perhaps," said Bess, yawning with ennui. + +"She did nothing of the kind," retorted Gertie. "She seized my hand, +and said: 'Oh, Miss Gertrude, that is very kind of you, indeed! I +thank you ever so much!'" + +"Pshaw!" cried Bess, contemptuously. "That was a trick to make you +believe she did not want to be observed by our guests. She is a sly, +designing little creature, with her pretty face and soft, childish +ways." + +"But there is one point that seriously troubles me," said Gertie, +fastening the pink satin bow on her tiny slipper more securely, and +breaking off the thread with a nervous twitch. "I am seriously afraid, +if Rex were to see her, that would be the end of our castle in the +air. Daisy Brooks has just the face to attract a handsome, debonair +young fellow like Rex." + +"You can depend upon it he shall never see her," said Bess, decidedly. +"Where there's a will there's a way." + +"I have never been actually jealous of anyone before," said Gertie, +flushing furiously, as she acknowledged the fact; "but that Daisy has +such a way of attracting people toward her they quite forget your +presence when she is around. 'When one rival leaves the field, another +one is sure to come to the fore.' That's a true saying," said Gertie, +meditatively. "You see, he did not marry the heiress of Whitestone +Hall. So he is still in the market, to be captured by some lucky +girl." + +"Well, if I am the lucky one, you must forgive me, Gertie. All is fair +in love and war, you know. Besides, his wealth is too tempting to see +slip quietly by without a struggle." + +Before she could reply Eve popped in through the long French window +that opened out on the porch. + +"Oh, I'm so tired of hearing you two talk of lovers and riches!" she +cried, throwing herself down on the sofa. "I do hate to hear love +weighed against riches, as if it were a purchasable article. According +to your ideas, if a fellow was worth a hundred thousand, you would +love him moderately; but if he was worth half a million, you could +afford to love him immensely." + +"You have got a sensible idea of the matter," said Bess, coolly. + +"For shame!" cried Eve, in a hot fury. "It's an actual sin to talk in +that way. If a handsome young man loves you, and you love him, why, +you ought to marry him if he hadn't a dollar in the world!" + +Gertie and the worldly-wise Bess laughed at their younger sister's +enthusiasm. + +"Now, there's Rex Lyon, for instance," persisted Eve, absolutely +refusing to be silenced. "I would wager a box of the best kid gloves +either one of you would marry him to-morrow, if he were to ask you, if +he hadn't a penny in his pocket." + +"Pshaw!" reiterated Gertie, and Bess murmured something about absurd +ideas; but nevertheless both sisters were blushing furiously to the +very roots of their hair. They well knew in their hearts what she said +was perfectly true. + +"Eve," said Bess, laying her hand coaxingly on the young rebel's arm, +"Gertie and I want you to promise us something. Come, now, consent +that you will do as we wish, that's a good girl." + +"How can I promise before I know what you want?" said Eve, petulantly. +"You might want the man in the moon, after you've tried and failed to +get his earthly brethren, for all I know!" + +"Eve, you are actually absurd!" cried Bess, sharply. "This is merely a +slight favor we wish you to do." + +"If you warn her not to do a thing, that is just what she will set her +heart upon doing," said Gertie, significantly. + +By this time Eve's curiosity was well up. + +"You may as well tell me anyhow," she said; "for if you don't, and I +ever find out what it is, I'll do my very worst, because you kept it +from me." + +"Well," said Gertie, eagerly, "we want you to promise us not to give +Daisy Brooks an introduction to Rex Lyon." + +A defiant look stole over Eve's mischievous face. + +"If he asks me, I'm to turn and walk off, or I'm to say, 'No, sir, I +am under strict orders from my marriageable sisters not to.' Is that +what you mean?" + +"Eve," they both cried in chorus, "don't be unsisterly; don't put a +stumbling-block in our path; rather remove it!" + +"I shall not bind myself to such a promise!" cried Eve. "You are +trying to spoil my pet scheme. I believe you two are actually witches +and guessed it. What put it into your heads that I had any such +intentions anyhow?" + +"Then you were actually thinking of going against our interest in that +way," cried Gertie, white to the very lips, "you insolent little +minx!" + +"I don't choose to remain in such polite society," said Eve, with a +mocking courtesy, skipping toward the door. "I may take a notion to +write a little note to Mr. Rex, inviting him over here to see our +household fairy, just as the spirit moves me." + +This was really more than Gertie's warm, southern temper could bear. +She actually flew at the offending Eve in her rage; but Eve was nimble +of foot and disappeared up the stairway, three steps at a bound. + +"What a vixen our Gertie is growing to be!" she cried, pantingly, as +she reached the top step. + +She saw a light in Daisy's room, and tapped quietly on the door. + +"Is that you, Eve?" cried a smothered voice from the pillows. + +"Yes," replied Eve; "I'd like very much to come in. May I?" + +For answer, Daisy opened the door, but Eve stood quite still on the +threshold. + +"What's the matter, Daisy, have you been crying?" she demanded. "Why, +your eyelids are red and swollen, and your eyes glow like the stars. +Has Gertie or Bess said anything cross to you?" she inquired, +smoothing back the soft golden curls that clustered round the white +brow. + +"No," said Daisy, choking down a hard sob; "only I am very unhappy, +Eve, and I feel just--just as if every one in the world hated me." + +"How long have you been up here in your room?" asked Eve, suspiciously, +fearing Daisy had by chance overheard the late conversation +down-stairs. + +"Quite an hour," answered Daisy, truthfully. + +"Then you did not hear what I was talking about down-stairs, did you?" +she inquired, anxiously. + +"No," said Daisy, "you were playing over a new waltz when I came +upstairs." + +"Oh," said Eve, breathing freer, thinking to herself, "She has not +heard what we said. I am thankful for that." + +"You must not talk like that, Daisy," she said, gayly, clasping her +arms caressingly around the slender figure leaning against the +casement; "I predict great things in store for you--wonderful things. +Do not start and look at me so curiously, for I shall not tell you +anything else, for it is getting dangerously near a certain forbidden +subject. You know you warned me not to talk to you of love or lovers. +I intend to have a great surprise for you. That is all I'm going to +tell you now." + +Eve was almost frightened at the rapture that lighted up the beautiful +face raised to her own. + +"Has any one called for me, Eve?" she asked, piteously. "Oh, Eve, tell +me quickly. I have hoped against hope, almost afraid to indulge so +sweet a dream. Has any one inquired for me?" + +Eve shook her head, sorely puzzled. + +"Were you expecting any one to call?" she asked. She saw the light die +quickly out of the blue eyes and the rich peachlike bloom from the +delicate, dimpled cheeks. "I know something is troubling you greatly, +little Daisy," she said, "and I sympathize with you even if I may not +share your secret." + +"Every one is so cold and so cruel to me, I think I should die if I +were to lose your friendship, Eve," she said. + +Eve held the girl's soft white hand in hers. "You will never die, +then, if you wait for that event to happen. When I like a person, I +like them for all time. I never could pretend a friendship I did not +feel. And I said to myself the first moment I saw you: 'What a sweet +littly fairy! I shall love her, I'm sure.'" + +"And do you love me?" asked Daisy. + +"Yes," said Eve; "my friendship is a lasting one. I could do almost +anything for you." + +She wondered why Daisy took her face between her soft little palms and +looked so earnestly down into her eyes, and kissed her lips so +repeatedly. + +Poor Daisy! if she had only confided in Eve--reckless, impulsive, +warm-hearted, sympathetic Eve--it might have been better for her. "No +matter what you might hear of me in the future, no matter what fate +might tempt me to do, promise me, Eve, that you, of all the world, +will believe in me, you will not lose your faith in me." The sweet +voice sounded hollow and unnatural. "There are dark, pitiful secrets +in many lives," she said, "that drive one to the very verge of madness +in their woe. If you love me, pray for me, Eve. My feet are on the +edge of a terrible precipice." + +In after years Eve never forgot the haunted look of despair that +crossed the fair face of Daisy Brooks, as the words broke from her +lips in a piteous cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +The announcement of Mrs. Lyon's sudden and unexpected death caused +great excitement and consternation the next morning at Glengrove. + +"Oh, dear!" cried Gertie, "how provokingly unfortunate for her to die +just now! Why couldn't she have waited until after our birthday party? +Of course Rex wouldn't be expected to come now; and this whole matter +was arranged especially for him; and my beautiful lilac silk is all +made, and so bewitchingly lovely, too!" + +"What can't be cured must be endured, you know," said Bess; "and now +the best thing to be done is to send a note of condolence to him, +extending our deepest sympathy, and offering him any assistance in our +power; and be sure to add: 'We would be very pleased to have Birdie +come over here until you can make other arrangements for her.'" + +"Have Birdie here!" flashed Gertie, angrily. "I actually think you +have gone crazy!" + +"Well, there is certainly a method in my madness," remarked Bess. +"Aren't you quick-witted enough to understand that would be a sure way +of bringing Rex over here every day?--he would come to see his +sister--and that is quite a point gained." + +"You are rather clever, Bess; I never thought of that." + +And straightway the perfumed little note was dispatched, bearing +Gertie's monogram and tender-worded sympathy to the handsome young +heir, who sat all alone in that darkened chamber, wondering why Heaven +had been so unkind to him. + +An hour later Bess and Gertie were in the library arranging some new +volumes on the shelves. Mrs. Glenn sat in a large easy-chair +superintending the affair, while Daisy stood at an open window, +holding the book from which she had been reading aloud in her restless +fingers, her blue eyes gazing earnestly on the distant curling smoke +that rose up lazily from the chimneys of Rex's home, and upon the +brilliant sunshine that lighted up the eastern windows with a blaze of +glory--as if there was no such thing as death or sorrow within those +palatial walls--when Rex's answer was received. + +"It is from Rex!" cried Gertie, all in a flutter. "Shall I read it +aloud, mamma?" she asked, glancing furtively at Daisy, who stood at +the window, her pale, death-like face half buried in the lace +curtains. + +"It is certainly not a personal letter," said Bess, maliciously +glancing at the superscription. "Don't you see it is addressed to +'Mrs. Glenn and daughters.'" + +"In a time like that people don't think much of letters," commented +Mrs. Glenn, apologetically. "Read the letter aloud, of course, my +dear." + +It read: + + "DEAR LADIES,--I thank you more than I can express for your kind + sympathy in my present sad bereavement. I would gladly have + accepted your offer of bringing my dear little orphan sister to + you, had I not received a telegram this morning from Miss Pluma + Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, West Virginia, announcing her + intention of coming on at once, accompanied by Mrs. Corliss, to + take charge of little Birdie. + + "Again thanking you for the courtesy and kindness shown me, I am + + "Yours very truly, + "REXFORD LYON." + +There was a low, gasping, piteous cry; and the little figure at the +window slipped down among the soft, billowy curtains in a deadly +swoon; but the three, so deeply engrossed in discussing the contents +of the note, did not notice it. At last Daisy opened her eyes, and the +blue eyes were dazed with pain. She could hear them coupling the names +of Rex and Pluma Hurlhurst. Rex--her husband! + +Daisy was blind and stupefied. She groped rather than walked from the +library--away from the three, who scarcely noticed her absence. + +Who cared that her heart was broken? Who cared that the cruel stab had +gone home to her tender, bleeding heart; that the sweet young face was +whiter than the petals of the star-bells tossing their white plumes +against the casement? + +Slowly, blindly, with one hand grasping the balusters, she went up the +broad staircase to her own room. + +She tried to think of everything on the way except the one thing that +had taken place. She thought of the story she had read, of a girl who +was slain by having a dagger plunged into her breast. The girl ran a +short distance, and when the dagger was drawn from the wound, she fell +down dead. In some way she fancied she was like that girl--that, when +she should reach her own room and stand face to face with her own +pain, she should drop down dead. + +The door was closed, and she stood motionless, trying to understand +and realize what she had heard. + +"Have my senses deceived me?" She said the words over and over to +herself. "Did I dream it? Can it even be possible Pluma Hurlhurst is +coming here, coming to the home where I should have been? God help me. +Coming to comfort Rex--my husband!" + +She could fancy the darkly beautiful face bending over him; her white +jeweled hands upon his shoulder, or, perhaps, smoothing back the bonny +brown clustering curls from his white brow. + +"My place should have been by his side," she continued. + +It hurt and pained her to hear the name of the man she loved dearer +than life mentioned with the name of Pluma Hurlhurst. + +"Oh, Rex, my love, my love!" she cried out, "I can not bear it any +longer. The sun of my life has gone down in gloom and chill. Oh, Rex, +my husband, I have not the strength nor the courage to bear it. I am a +coward. I can not give you up. We are living apart under the blue, +smiling sky and the golden sun. Yet in the sight of the angels, I am +your wife." + +Suddenly, the solemn bells from Rex's home commenced tolling, and +through the leafy branches of the trees she caught a glimpse of a +white face and bowed head, and of a proud, cold face bending +caressingly over it, just as she had pictured it in her imagination. + +Dear Heaven! it was Rex and Pluma! She did not moan. She did not cry +out, nor utter even a sigh. Like one turned to marble she, the poor +little misguided child-wife, stood watching them with an intentness +verging almost into madness. + +She saw him lift his head wearily from his white hands, rise slowly, +and then, side by side, both disappeared from the window. + +After that Daisy never knew how the moments passed. She remembered the +tidy little waiting-maid coming to her and asking if she would please +come down to tea. She shook her head but no sound issued from the +white lips, and the maid went softly away, closing the door behind +her. + +Slowly the sun sunk in the west in a great red ball of fire. The light +died out of the sky, and the song birds trilled their plaintive +good-night songs in the soft gloaming. Still Daisy sat with her hands +crossed in her lap, gazing intently at the window, where she had seen +Pluma standing with Rex, her husband. + +A hand turned the knob of her door. + +"Oh, dear me," cried Gertie, "you are all in the dark. I do not see +you. Are you here, Daisy Brooks?" + +"Yes," said Daisy, controlling her voice by a violent effort. "Won't +you sit down? I will light the gas." + +"Oh, no, indeed!" cried Gertie. "I came up to ask you if you would +please sew a little on my ball dress to-night. I can not use it just +now; still, there is no need of putting it away half finished." + +Sew on a ball dress while her heart was breaking! Oh, how could she do +it? Quietly she followed Gertie to her pretty little blue and gold +boudoir, making no remonstrance. She was to sew on a ball dress while +the heiress of Whitestone Hall was consoling her young husband in his +bitter sorrow? + +The shimmering billows of silk seemed swimming before her eyes, and +the frost-work of seed-pearls to waver through the blinding tears that +would force themselves to her eyes. Eve was not there. How pitifully +lonely poor Daisy felt! The face, bent so patiently over the lilac +silk, had a strange story written upon it. But the two girls, +discussing the events of the day, did not glance once in her +direction; their thoughts and conversation were of the handsome young +heiress and Rex. + +"For once in your life you were wrong," said Bess. "The way affairs +appear now does not look much like a broken-off marriage, I can assure +you." + +"Those who have seen her say she is peculiarly beautiful and +fascinating, though cold, reserved, and as haughty as a queen," said +Gertie. + +"Cold and reserved," sneered Bess. "I guess you would not have thought +so if you had been at the drawing-room window to-day and seen her +bending over Rex so lovingly. I declare I expected every moment to see +her kiss him." + +The box which held the seed-pearls dropped to the floor with a crash, +and the white, glistening beads were scattered about in all +directions. + +"Why, what a careless creature you are, Daisy Brooks!" cried Gertie, +in dismay. "Just see what you have done! Half of them will be lost, +and what is not lost will be smashed, and I had just enough to finish +that lily on the front breadth and twine among the blossoms for my +hair. What do you suppose I'm going to do now, you provoking girl? It +is actually enough to make one cry." + +"I am so sorry," sighed Daisy, piteously. + +"Sorry! Will that bring back my seed-pearls? I have half a mind to +make mamma deduct the amount from your salary." + +"You may have it all if it will only replace them," said Daisy, +earnestly. "I think, though, I have gathered them all up." + +A great, round tear rolled off from her long, silky eyelashes and into +the very heart of the frosted lily over which she bent, but the lily's +petals seemed to close about it, leaving no trace of its presence. + +Bessie and Gertie openly discussed their chagrin and keen disappointment, +yet admitting what a handsome couple Rex and Pluma made--he so courteous +and noble, she so royal and queenly. + +"Of course we must call upon her if she is to be Rex's wife," said +Gertie, spitefully. "I foresee she will be exceedingly popular." + +"We must also invite her to Glengrove," said Bess, thoughtfully. "It +is the least we can do, and it is expected of us. I quite forgot to +mention one of their servants was telling Jim both Rex and little +Birdie intend to accompany Miss Hurlhurst back to Whitestone Hall as +soon after the funeral as matters can be arranged." + +"Why, that is startling news indeed! Why, then, they will probably +leave some time this week!" cried Gertie. + +"Most probably," said Bess. "You ought certainly to send over your +note this evening--it is very early yet." + +"There is no one to send," said Gertie. "Jim has driven over to +Natchez, and there is no one else to go." + +"Perhaps Daisy will go for you," suggested Bess. + +There was no need of being jealous _now_ of Daisy's beauty in that +direction. Gertie gladly availed herself of the suggestion. + +"Daisy," she said, turning abruptly to the quivering little figure, +whose face drooped over the lilac silk, "never mind finishing that +dress to-night. I wish you to take a note over to the large gray stone +house yonder, and be sure to deliver it to Mr. Rex Lyon himself." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Gertie Glenn never forgot the despairing cry that broke from Daisy's +white lips as she repeated her command: + +"I wish you to deliver this note to Mr. Rex Lyon himself." + +"Oh, Miss Gertie," she cried, clasping her hands together in an agony +of entreaty, "I can not--oh, indeed I can not! Ask anything of me but +that and I will gladly do it!" + +Both girls looked at her in sheer astonishment. + +"What is the reason you can not?" cried Gertie, in utter amazement. "I +do not comprehend you." + +"I--I can not take the note," she said, in a frightened whisper. "I do +not--I--" + +She stopped short in utter confusion. + +"I choose you shall do just as I bid you," replied Gertie, in her +imperious, scornful anger. "It really seems to me you forget your +position here, Miss Brooks. How dare you refuse me?" + +Opposition always strengthened Gertie's decision, and she determined +Daisy should take her note to Rex Lyon at all hazards. + +The eloquent, mute appeal in the blue eyes raised to her own was +utterly lost on her. + +"The pride of these dependent companions is something ridiculous," she +went on, angrily. "You consider yourself too fine, I suppose, to be +made a messenger of." Gertie laughed aloud, a scornful, mocking laugh. +"Pride and poverty do not work very well together. You may go to your +room now and get your hat and shawl. I shall have the letter written +in a very few minutes. There will be no use appealing to mamma. You +ought to know by this time we overrule her objections always." + +It was too true, Mrs. Glenn never had much voice in a matter where +Bess or Gertie had decided the case. + +Like one in a dream Daisy turned from them. She never remembered how +she gained her own room. With cold, tremulous fingers she fastened her +hat, tucking the bright golden hair carefully beneath her veil, and +threw her shawl over her shoulders, just as Gertie approached, letter +in hand. + +"You need not go around by the main road," she said, "there is a much +nearer path leading down to the stone wall. You need not wait for an +answer: there will be none. The servants over there are awkward, +blundering creatures--do not trust it to them--you must deliver it to +Rex himself." + +"I make one last appeal to you, Miss Gertie. Indeed, it is not pride +that prompts me. I could not bear it. Have pity on me. You are gentle +and kind to others; please, oh, please be merciful to me!" + +"I have nothing more to say upon the subject--I have said you were to +go. You act as if I were sending you to some place where you might +catch the scarlet fever or the mumps. You amuse me; upon my word you +do. Rex is not dangerous, neither is he a Bluebeard; his only fault is +being alarmingly handsome. The best advice I can give you is, don't +admire him too much. He should be labeled, 'Out of the market.'" + +Gertie tripped gayly from the room, her crimson satin ribbons +fluttering after her, leaving a perceptible odor of violets in the +room, while Daisy clutched the note in her cold, nervous grasp, +walking like one in a terrible dream through the bright patches of +glittering moonlight, through the sweet-scented, rose-bordered path, +on through the dark shadows of the trees toward the home of Rex--her +husband. + +A soft, brooding silence lay over the sleeping earth as Daisy, with a +sinking heart, drew near the house. Her soft footfalls on the green +mossy earth made no sound. + +Silently as a shadow she crept up to the blossom-covered porch; some +one was standing there, leaning against the very pillar around which +she had twined her arms as she watched Rex's shadow on the roses. + +The shifting moonbeams pierced the white, fleecy clouds that enveloped +them, and as he turned his face toward her she saw it was Rex. She +could almost have reached out her hand and touched him from where she +stood. She was sorely afraid her face or her voice might startle him +if she spoke to him suddenly. + +"I do not need to speak," she thought. "I will go up to him and lay +the letter in his hand." + +Then a great intense longing came over her to hear his voice and know +that he was speaking to her. She had quite decided to pursue this +course, when the rustle of a silken garment fell upon her ear. She +knew the light tread of the slippered feet but too well--it was Pluma. +She went up to him in her usual caressing fashion, laying her white +hand on his arm. + +"Do you know you have been standing here quite two hours, Rex, +watching the shadows of the vine-leaves? I have longed to come up and +ask you what interest those dancing shadows had for you, but I could +not make up my mind to disturb you. I often fancy you do not know how +much time you spend in thought." + +Pluma was wondering if he was thinking of that foolish, romantic fancy +that had come so near separating them--his boyish fancy for Daisy +Brooks, their overseer's niece. No, surely not. He must have forgotten +her long ago. + +"These reveries seem to have grown into a habit with me," he said, +dreamily; "almost a second nature, of late. If you were to come and +talk to me at such times, you would break me of it." + +The idea pleased her. A bright flush rose to her face, and she made +him some laughing reply, and he looked down upon her with a kindly +smile. + +Oh! the torture of it to the poor young wife standing watching them, +with heart on fire in the deep shadow of the crimson-hearted +passion-flowers that quivered on the intervening vines. The letter she +held in her hand slipped from her fingers into the bushes all +unheeded. She had but one thought--she must get away. The very air +seemed to stifle her; her heart seemed numb--an icy band seemed +pressing round it, and her poor forehead was burning hot. It did not +matter much where she went, nobody loved her, nobody cared for her. As +softly as she came, she glided down the path that led to the +entrance-gate beyond. She passed through the moonlighted grounds, +where the music and fragrance of the summer night was at its height. +The night wind stirred the pink clover and the blue-bells beneath her +feet. Her eyes were hot and dry; tears would have been a world of +relief to her, but none came to her parched eyelids. + +She paid little heed to the direction she took. One idea alone took +possession of her--she must get away. + +"If I could only go back to dear old Uncle John," she sighed. "His +love has never failed me." + +It seemed long years back since she had romped with him, a happy, +merry child, over the cotton fields, and he had called her his sunbeam +during all those years when no one lived at Whitestone Hall and the +wild ivy climbed riotously over the windows and doors. Even Septima's +voice would have sounded so sweet to her. She would have lived over +again those happy, childish days, if she only could. She remembered +how Septima would send her to the brook for water, and how she +sprinkled every flower in the path-way that bore her name; and how +Septima would scold her when she returned with her bucket scarce half +full; and how she had loved to dream away those sunny summer days, +lying under the cool, shady trees, listening to the songs the robins +sang as they glanced down at her with their little sparkling eyes. + +How she had dreamed of the gallant young hero who was to come to her +some day. She had wondered how she would know him, and what were the +words he first would say! If he would come riding by, as the judge did +when "Maud Muller stood in the hay-fields;" and she remembered, too, +the story of "Rebecca at the Well." A weary smile flitted over her +face as she remembered when she went to the brook she had always put +on her prettiest blue ribbons, in case she might meet her hero. + +Oh, those sweet, bright, rosy dreams of girlhood! What a pity it is +they do not last forever! Those girlish dreams, where glowing fancy +reigns supreme, and the prosaic future is all unknown. She remembered +her meeting with Rex, how every nerve in her whole being thrilled, and +how she had felt her cheeks grow flaming hot, just as she had read +they would do when she met the right one. That was how she had known +Rex was the right one when she had shyly glanced up, from under her +long eyelashes, into the gay, brown hazel eyes, fixed upon her so +quizzically, as he took the heavy basket from her slender arms, that +never-to-be-forgotten June day, beneath the blossoming magnolia-tree. + +Poor child! her life had been a sad romance since then. How strange it +was she was fleeing from the young husband whom she had married and +was so quickly parted from! + +All this trouble had come about because she had so courageously +rescued her letter from Mme. Whitney. + +"If he had not bound me to secrecy, I could have have cried out before +the whole world I was his wife," she thought. + +A burning flush rose to her face as she thought how cruelly he had +suspected her, this poor little child-bride who had never known one +wrong or sinful thought in her pure, innocent young life. + +If he had only given her the chance of explaining how she had happened +to be there with Stanwick; if they had taken her back she must have +confessed about the letter and who Rex was and what he was to her. + +Even Stanwick's persecution found an excuse in her innocent, +unsuspecting little heart. + +"He sought to save me from being taken back when he called me his +wife," she thought. "He believed I was free to woo and win, because I +dared not tell him I was Rex's wife." Yet the thought of Stanwick +always brought a shudder to her pure young mind. She could not +understand why he would have resorted to such desperate means to gain +an unwilling bride. + +"Not yet seventeen. Ah, what a sad love-story hers had been. How +cruelly love's young dream had been blighted," she told herself; and +yet she would not have exchanged that one thrilling, ecstatic moment +of rapture when Rex had clasped her in his arms and whispered: "My +darling wife," for a whole lifetime of calm happiness with any one +else. + +On and on she walked through the violet-studded grass, thinking--thinking. +Strange fancies came thronging to her overwrought brain. She pushed her +veil back from her face and leaned against the trunk of a tree; her brain +was dizzy and her thoughts were confused; the very stars seemed dancing +riotously in the blue sky above her, and the branches of the trees were +whispering strange fancies. Suddenly a horseman, riding a coal-black +charger, came cantering swiftly up the long avenue of trees. He saw the +quiet figure standing leaning against the drooping branches. + +"I will inquire the way," he said to himself, drawing rein beside her. +"Can you tell me, madame, if this is the most direct road leading to +Glengrove and that vicinity? I am looking for a hostelry near it. I +seem to have lost my way. Will you kindly direct me?" he asked, "or to +the home of Mr. Rex Lyon?" + +The voice sounded strangely familiar to Daisy. She was dimly conscious +some one was speaking to her. She raised her face up and gazed at the +speaker. The cold, pale moonlight fell full upon it, clearly revealing +its strange, unearthly whiteness, and the bright flashing eyes, gazing +dreamily past the terror-stricken man looking down on her, with white, +livid lips and blanched, horror-stricken face. His eyes almost leaped +from their sockets in abject terror, as Lester Stanwick gazed on the +upturned face by the roadside. + +"My God, do I dream?" he cried, clutching at the pommel of his saddle. +"Is this the face of Daisy Brooks, or is it a specter, unable to sleep +in the depths of her tomb, come back to haunt me for driving her to +her doom?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +Rex and Pluma talked for some time out in the moonlight, then Rex +excused himself, and on the plea of having important business letters +to write retired to the library. + +For some minutes Pluma leaned thoughtfully against the railing. The +night was still and clear; the moon hung over the dark trees; floods +of silvery light bathed the waters of the glittering sea, the sleeping +flowers and the grass, and on the snowy orange-blossoms and golden +fruit amid the green foliage. + +"I shall always love this fair southern home," she thought, a bright +light creeping into her dark, dazzling eyes. "I am Fortune's +favorite," she said, slowly. "I shall have the one great prize I covet +most on earth. I shall win Rex at last. I wonder at the change in him. +There was a time when I believed he loved me. Could it be handsome, +refined, courteous Rex had more than a passing fancy for Daisy +Brooks--simple, unpretentious Daisy Brooks? Thank God she is dead!" +she cried, vehemently. "I would have periled my very soul to have won +him." + +Even as the thought shaped itself in her mind, a dark form stepped +cautiously forward. + +She was not startled; a passing wonder as to who it might be struck +her. She did not think much about it; a shadow in the moonlight did +not frighten her. + +"Pluma!" called a low, cautious voice, "come down into the garden; I +must speak with you. It is I, Lester Stanwick." + +In a single instant the soft love-light had faded from her face, +leaving it cold, proud, and pitiless. A vague, nameless dread seized +her. She was a courageous girl; she would not let him know it. + +"The mad fool!" she cried, clinching her white jeweled hands together. +"Why does he follow me here? What shall I do? I must buy him off at +any cost. I dare not defy him. Better temporize with him." She +muttered the words aloud, and she was shocked to see how changed and +hoarse her own voice sounded. "Women have faced more deadly peril than +this," she muttered, "and cleverly outwitted ingenious foes. I _must_ +win by stratagem." + +She quickly followed the tall figure down the path that divided the +little garden from the shrubbery. + +"I knew you would not refuse me, Pluma," he said, clasping her hands +and kissing her cold lips. He noticed the glance she gave him had +nothing in it but coldness and annoyance. "You do not tell me you are +pleased to see me, Pluma, and yet you have promised to be my wife." +She stood perfectly still leaning against an oleander-tree. "Why don't +you speak to me, Pluma?" he cried. "By Heaven! I am almost beginning +to mistrust you. You remember your promise," he said, hurriedly--"if I +removed the overseer's niece from your path you were to reward me +with your heart and hand." She would have interrupted him, but he +silenced her with a gesture. "You said your love for Rex had turned to +bitter hatred. You found he loved the girl, and that would be a +glorious revenge. I did not have to resort to abducting her from the +seminary as we had planned. The bird flew into my grasp. I would have +placed her in the asylum you selected, but she eluded me by leaping +into the pit. I have been haunted by her face night and day ever +since. I see her face in crowds, in the depths of the silent forest, +her specter appears before me until I fly from it like one accursed." + +She could not stay the passionate torrent of his words. + +"Lester, this is all a mistake," she said; "you have not given me a +chance to speak." Her hands dropped nervously by her side. There were +fierce, rebellious thoughts in her heart, but she dare not give them +utterance. "What have I done to deserve all this?" she asked, trying +to assume a tender tone she was far from feeling. + +"What have you done?" he cried, hoarsely. "Why, I left you at +Whitestone Hall, feeling secure in the belief that I had won you. +Returning suddenly and unexpectedly, I found you had gone to Florida, +to the home of Rex Lyon. Do you know what I would have done, Pluma, if +I had found you his wife and false to your trust?" + +"You forget yourself, Lester," she said; "gentlemen never threaten +women." + +He bit his lip angrily. + +"There are extreme cases of desperation," he made reply. "You must +keep your promise," he said, determinedly. "No other man must dare +speak to you of love." + +She saw the angry light flame into his eyes, and trembled under her +studied composure; yet not the quiver of an eyelid betrayed her +emotion. She had not meant to quarrel with him; for once in her life +she forgot her prudence. + +"Suppose that, by exercise of any power you think you possess, you +could really compel me to be your wife, do you think it would benefit +you? I would learn to despise you. What would you gain by it?" + +The answer sprung quickly to his lips: "The one great point for which +I am striving--possession of Whitestone Hall;" but he was too +diplomatic to utter the words. She saw a lurid light in his eyes. + +"You shall be my wife," he said, gloomily. "If you have been +cherishing any hope of winning Rex Lyon, abandon it at once. As a +last resort, I would explain to him how cleverly you removed the +pretty little girl he loved from his path." + +"You dare not!" she cried, white to the very lips. "You have forgotten +your own share in that little affair. Who would believe you acted upon +a woman's bidding? You would soon be called to account for it. You +forget that little circumstance, Lester; you dare not go to Rex!" He +knew what she said was perfectly true. He had not intended going to +Rex; he knew it would be as much as his life was worth to encounter +him. He was aware his name had been coupled with Daisy's in the +journals which had described her tragic death. He knew Rex had fallen +madly, desperately in love with little Daisy Brooks, but he did not +dream he had made her his wife. "You have not given me time to explain +why I am here." + +"I have heard all about it," he answered, impatiently; "but I do not +understand why they sent for you." + +"Mrs. Lyon requested it," she replied, quietly. "Rex simply obeyed her +wishes." + +"Perhaps she looked upon you as her future daughter-in-law," sneered +Lester, covertly. "I have followed you to Florida to prevent it; I +would follow you to the ends of the earth to prevent it! A promise to +me can not be lightly broken." + +Not a feature of that proud face quivered to betray the sharp spasm of +fear that darted through her heart. + +"You should have waited until you had cause to reproach me, Lester," +she said, drawing her wrap closer about her and shivering as if with +cold. "I must go back to the house now; some one might miss me." + +He made no reply. The wind bent the reeds, and the waves of the sea +dashed up on the distant beach with a long, low wash. He was wondering +how far she was to be trusted. + +"You may have perfect confidence in me, Lester," she said; "my word +ought to be sufficient," as if quite divining his thoughts. "You need +have no fear; I will be true to you." + +"I shall remain away until this affair has blown over," he replied. "I +can live as well in one part of the country as another, thanks to the +income my father left me." He laid great stress on the last sentence; +he wanted to impress her with the fact that he had plenty of money. +"She must never know," he told himself, "that he had so riotously +squandered the vast inheritance that had been left him, and he was +standing on the verge of ruin." A marriage with the wealthy heiress +would save him at the eleventh hour. "I will trust you, Pluma," he +continued. "I know, you will keep your vow." + +The false ring of apparent candor did not deceive her; she knew it +would be a case of diamond cut diamond. + +"That is spoken like your own generous self, Lester," she said, +softly, clasping his hands in her own white, jeweled ones. "You pained +me by your distrust." + +He saw she was anxious to get away from him, and he bit his lip with +vexation; her pretty, coaxing manner did not deceive him one whit, yet +he clasped his arms in a very lover-like fashion around her as he +replied: + +"Forget that it ever existed, my darling. Where there is such ardent, +passionate love, there is always more or less jealousy and fear. Do +you realize I am making an alien of myself for your sweet sake? I +could never refuse you a request. Your slightest will has been my law. +Be kind to me, Pluma." + +She did try to be more than agreeable and fascinating. + +"I must remove all doubts from his mind," she thought. "I shall +probably be Rex's wife when we meet again. Then his threats will be +useless; I will scornfully deny it. He has no proofs." + +She talked to him so gracefully, so tenderly, at times, he was almost +tempted to believe she actually cared for him more than she would +admit. Still he allowed it would do no harm to keep a strict watch of +her movements. + +"Good-bye, Pluma, dearest," he said, "I shall keep you constantly +advised of my whereabouts. As soon as matters can be arranged +satisfactorily, I am coming back to claim you." + +Another moment and she was alone, walking slowly back to the house, a +very torrent of anger in her proud, defiant heart. + +"I must hurry matters up, delays are dangerous," she thought, walking +slowly up the broad path toward the house. + + * * * * * + +Slowly the long hours of the night dragged themselves by, yet Daisy +did not return to Glengrove. The hours lengthened into days, and days +into weeks, still there was no trace of her to be found. Gertie's +explanation readily accounted for her absence. + +"She preferred to leave us rather than deliver my note," she said, +angrily; "and I for one am not sorry she has gone." + +"Rex did not mention having received it," said Bess, "when he came +with Birdie to bid us good-bye." + +"She probably read it and destroyed it," said Gertie, "Well, there was +nothing in it very particular. Toward the last of it I mentioned I +would send the note over by Daisy Brooks, my mother's companion. More +than likely she took umbrage at that." + +"That was a very unkind remark," asserted Eve. "You had no business to +mention it at all; it was uncalled for." + +"Well, she would not have known it if she had not read it," replied +Gertie. "You must admit that." + +Mrs. Glenn felt sorely troubled. In the short time Daisy had been with +her she had put unlimited confidence in her. + +No one thought of searching for her; they all accepted the facts as +the case presented itself to them. Daisy had certainly left them of +her own free will. + +Eve alone felt distressed. + +"I know everything looks that way, but I shall never believe it," she +cried. + +She remembered the conversation she had so lately had with Daisy. How +she had clasped her loving little arms about her neck, crying out: + +"Pray for me, Eve. I am sorely tried. My feet are on the edge of a +precipice. No matter what I may be tempted to do, do not lose faith in +me, Eve; always believe in me." + +Poor little Daisy! what was the secret sorrow that was goading her on +to madness? Would she ever know? + +Where was she now? Ah, who could tell? + +A curious change seemed to come over romping, mischievous, merry Eve; +she had grown silent and thoughtful. + +"I could never believe any one in this world was true or pure again if +I thought for one moment deceit lay brooding in a face so fair as +little Daisy Brooks's." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +The months flew quickly by; the cold winter had slipped away, and the +bright green grass and early violets were sprinkling the distant +hill-slopes. The crimson-breasted robins were singing in the budding +branches of the trees, and all Nature reminded one the glorious spring +had come. + +Rex Lyon stood upon the porch of Whitestone Hall gazing up at the +white, fleecy clouds that scudded over the blue sky, lost in deep +thought. + +He was the same handsome, debonair Rex, but ah, how changed! The +merry, laughing brown eyes looked silent and grave enough now, and the +lips the drooping brown mustache covered rarely smiled. Even his voice +seemed to have a deeper tone. + +He had done the one thing that morning which his mother had asked him +to do with her dying breath--he had asked Pluma Hurlhurst to be his +wife. + +The torture of the task seemed to grow upon him as the weeks rolled +by, and in desperation he told himself he must settle the matter at +once, or he would not have the strength to do it. + +He never once thought what he should do with his life after he married +her. He tried to summon up courage to tell her the story of his +marriage, that his hopes, his heart, and his love all lay in the grave +of his young wife. Poor Rex, he could not lay bare that sweet, sad +secret; he could not have borne her questions, her wonder, her +remarks, and have lived; his dead love was far too sacred for that; he +could not take the treasured love-story from his heart and hold it up +to public gaze. It would have been easier for him to tear the living, +beating heart from his breast than to do this. + +He had walked into the parlor that morning, where he knew he should +find Pluma. She was standing before the fire. Although it was early +spring the mornings were chilly, and a cheerful fire burned in the +grate, throwing a bright, glowing radiance over the room and over the +exquisite morning toilet of white cashmere, with its white lace +frills, relieved here and there with coquettish dashes of scarlet +blossoms, which Pluma wore, setting off her graceful figure to such +queenly advantage. + +Rex looked at her, at the imperious beauty any man might have been +proud to win, secretly hoping she would refuse him. + +"Good-morning, Rex," she said, holding out her white hands to him. "I +am glad you have come to talk to me. I was watching you walking up and +down under the trees, and you looked so lonely I half made up my mind +to join you." + +A lovely color was deepening in her cheeks, and her eyes drooped +shyly. He broke right into the subject at once while he had the +courage to do it. + +"I have something to say to you, Pluma," he began, leading her to an +adjacent sofa and seating himself beside her. "I want to ask you if +you will be my wife." He looked perhaps the more confused of the two. +"I will do my best to make you happy," he continued. "I can not say +that I will make a model husband, but I will say I will do my best." + +There was a minute's silence, awkward enough for both. + +"You have asked me to be your wife, Rex, but you have not said one +word of loving me." + +The remark was so unexpected Rex seemed for a few moments to be +unable to reply to it. Looking at the eager, expectant face turned +toward him, it appeared ungenerous and unkind not to give her one +affectionate word. Yet he did not know how to say it; he had never +spoken a loving word to any one except Daisy, his fair little +child-bride. + +He tried hard to put the memory of Daisy away from him as he +answered: + +"The question is so important that most probably I have thought more +of it than of any words which should go with it." + +"Oh, that is it," returned Pluma, with a wistful little laugh. "Most +men, when they ask women to marry them, say something of love, do they +not?" + +"Yes," he replied, absently. + +"You have had no experience," laughed Pluma, archly. + +She was sorely disappointed. She had gone over in her own imagination +this very scene a thousand times, of the supreme moment he would clasp +his arms around her, telling her in glowing, passionate words how +dearly he loved her and how wretched his life would be without her. He +did nothing of the kind. + +Rex was thinking he would have given anything to have been able to +make love to her--anything for the power of saying tender words--she +looked so loving. + +Her dark, beautiful face was so near him, and her graceful figure so +close, that he could have wound his arm around her, but he did not. In +spite of every resolve, he thought of Daisy the whole time. How +different that other love-making had been! How his heart throbbed, and +every endearing name he could think of trembled on his lips, as he +strained Daisy to his heart when she had bashfully consented to be his +wife! + +That love-making was real substance; this one only the shadow of +love. + +"You have not answered my question, Pluma. Will you be my wife?" + +Pluma raised her dark, beautiful face, radiant with the light of love, +to his. + +"If I consent will you promise to love me better than anything else or +any one in the wide world?" + +"I will devote my whole life to you, study your every wish," he +answered, evasively. + +How was she to know he had given all his heart to Daisy? + +She held out her hands to him with a charming gesture of affection. He +took them and kissed them; he could do neither more nor less. + +"I will be your wife, Rex," she said, with a tremulous, wistful sigh. + +"Thank you, Pluma," he returned, gently, bending down and kissing the +beautiful crimson lips; "you shall never regret it. You are so kind, +I am going to impose on your good nature. You have promised me you +will be my wife--when may I claim you, Pluma?" + +"Do you wish it to be soon?" she asked, hesitatingly, wondering how he +would answer her. + +"Yes," he said, absently; "the sooner it is over the better I shall be +pleased." + +She looked up into his face, at a loss how to interpret the words. + +"You shall set the day, Rex," she replied. + +"I have your father's consent that it may take place just as soon as +possible, in case you promised to marry me," he said. "Suppose it +takes place in a fortnight, say--will that be too soon for you?" + +She gave a little scream of surprise. "As soon as that?" she murmured; +but ended by readily consenting. + +He thanked her and kissed her once more. After a few quiet words they +parted--she, happy in the glamour of her love-dream; he, praying to +Heaven from the depths of his miserable heart, to give him strength to +carry out the rash vow which had been wrung from his unwilling lips. + +In his heart Rex knew no one but Daisy could ever reign. Dead, he was +devoted to her memory. + +His life was narrowing down. He was all kindness, consideration and +devotion; but the one supreme magnet of all--love--was wanting. + +In vain Pluma exerted all her wondrous powers of fascination to win +him more completely. How little he dreamed of the depths of love which +controlled that passionate heart, every throb of which was for +him--that to have won from him one token of warm affection she would +have given all she held dear in this world. + +"How does it happen, Rex," she asked, one evening, "you have not asked +me to sing to you since you have asked me to be your wife? Music used +to be such a bond of sympathy between us." + +There was both love and reproach in her voice. He heard neither. He +had simply forgotten it. + +"I have been thinking of other things, I presume. Allow me to make up +for it at once, however, by asking you if you will sing for me now." + +The tears came to her dark, flashing eyes, but she forced them bravely +back. She had hoped he would clasp her in his arms, whispering some +sweet compliment, then say to her "Darling, won't you sing to me +now?" + +She swept toward the piano with the air of a queen. + +"I want you to sit where I can see you, Rex," she demanded, prettily; +"I like to watch your face when I sing you my favorite songs." + +Rex drew his chair up close to the piano, laying his head back +dreamily against the crimson cushions. He would not be obliged to +talk; for once--just once--he would let his fancies roam where they +would. He had often heard Pluma sing before, but never in the way +she sung to-night. A low, thrilling, seductive voice full of +pleading, passionate tenderness--a voice that whispered of the +sweet irresistible power of love, that carried away the hearts of +her listeners as a strong current carries a leaflet. + +Was it a dream, or was it the night wind breathing the name of Daisy? +The tears rose in his eyes, and he started to his feet, pale and +trembling with agitation. Suddenly the music ceased. + +"I did not think such a simple little melody had power to move you," +she said. + +"Is it a new song?" he asked. "I do not remember having heard it +before. What is the title of it?" + +He did not notice her face had grown slightly pale under the soft, +pearly light of the gleaming lamps, as she held the music out toward +him. + +"It is a pretty title," she said, in her low, musical voice, "'Daisies +Growing o'er my Darling's Grave.'" + +In the terrible look of agony that swept over his handsome face, Pluma +read the secret of his life; the one secret she had dreaded stood as +clearly revealed to her as though it had been stamped in glowing +letters upon his brow. She would have stood little chance of being +Rex's wife if Daisy Brooks had lived. + +Who would have dreamed the beautiful, proud young heiress could have +cursed the very memory of the young girl whom she believed to be +dead--lying all uncared for in a neglected, lonely grave? + +Rex felt sorely disturbed. He never remembered how the remainder of +the evening passed. Ah, heavens! how his mind wandered back to that +sweet love-dream so cruelly broken. A mist as of tears spread before +his eyes, and shut the whole world from him as he glanced out of the +window and up at the star-gemmed sky--that was his Daisy's home. + +"I hope my little song has not cast a gloom over you, Rex?" she said, +holding out her hands to him as she arose to bid him good-night--those +small white hands upon one of which his engagement-ring glowed with a +thousand prismatic hues. + +"Why should it?" he asked, attempting to laugh lightly. "I admired it +perhaps more than any other I have ever heard you sing." + +Pluma well knew why. + +"It was suggested to me by a strange occurrence. Shall I relate it to +you, Rex?" + +He made some indistinct answer, little dreaming of how wofully the +little anecdote would affect him. + +"I do not like to bring up old, unpleasant subjects, Rex. But do you +remember what the only quarrel we ever had was about, or rather _who_ +it was about?" + +He looked at her in surprise; he had not the least idea of what she +alluded to. + +"Do you remember what a romantic interest you once took in our +overseer's niece--the one who eloped with Lester Stanwick from +boarding-school--the one whose death we afterward read of? Her name +was Daisy--Daisy Brooks." + +If she had suddenly plunged a dagger into his heart with her white +jeweled hands he could not have been more cruelly startled. He could +have cried aloud with the sharp pain of unutterable anguish that +memory brought him. His answer was a bow; he dared not look up lest +the haggard pain of his face should betray him. + +"Her uncle (he was no relation, I believe, but she called him that) +was more fond of her than words can express. I was driving along by an +unfrequented road to-day when I came across a strange, pathetic sight. +The poor old man was putting the last touches to a plain wooden cross +he had just erected under a magnolia-tree, which bore the simple +words: 'To the memory of Daisy Brooks, aged sixteen years.' Around the +cross the grass was thickly sown with daisies. + +"'She does not rest here,' the old man said, drawing his rough sleeve +across his tear-dimmed eyes; 'but the poor little girl loved this spot +best of any.'" + +Pluma wondered why Rex took her just then in his arms for the first +time and kissed her. He was thanking her in his heart; he could have +knelt to her for the kind way she had spoken of Daisy. + +A little later he was standing by the open window of his own room in +the moonlight. + +"My God!" he cried, burying his face in his hands, "this poor John +Brooks did what I, her husband, should have done; but it is not +too late now. I shall honor your memory, my darling; I shall have +a costly marble monument erected to your memory, bearing the +inscription: 'Sacred to the memory of Daisy, beloved wife of Rex Lyon, +aged sixteen years.' Not Daisy Brooks, but Daisy Lyon. Mother is dead, +what can secrecy avail now?" + +He would not tell Pluma until the last moment. Straightway he ordered +a magnificent monument from Baltimore--one of pure unblemished white, +with an angel with drooping wings overlooking the tall white pillar. + +When it arrived he meant to take Pluma there, and, reverently kneeling +down before her, tell her all the story of his sweet, sad love-dream +with his face pressed close against the cold, pulseless marble--tell +her of the love-dream which had left him but the ashes of dead hope. +He sealed the letter and placed it with the out-going morning mail. + +"Darling, how I wish I had not parted from you that night!" he +sighed. + +How bitterly he regretted he could not live that one brief hour of his +past life over again--how differently he would act! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +While Rex was penning his all-important letter in his room, Pluma was +walking restlessly to and fro in her boudoir, conning over in her mind +the events of the evening. + +Rex had asked her to be his wife, but she stood face to face with the +truth at last--he did not love her. It was not only a blow of the +keenest and cruelest kind to her affection, but it was the cruelest +blow her vanity could possibly have received. + +To think that she, the wealthy, petted heiress, who counted her +admirers by the score, should have tried so hard to win the love of +this one man and have failed; that her beauty, her grace, her wit, and +her talent had been lavished upon him, and lavished in vain. "Was that +simple girl, with her shy, timid, shrinking manner, more lovable than +I?" she asked herself, incredulously. + +She could not realize it--she, whose name was on the lips of men, who +praised her as the queen of beauty, and whom fair women envied as one +who had but to will to win. + +It seemed to her a cruel mockery of fate that she, who had everything +the world could give--beauty and fortune--should ask but this one +gift, and that it should be refused her--the love of the man who had +asked her to be his wife. + +Was it impossible that he should learn to love her? + +She told herself that she should take courage, that she would +persevere, that her great love must in time prevail. + +"I must never let him find me dull or unhappy," she thought. "I must +carefully hide all traces of pique or annoyance." + +She would do her best to entertain him, and make it the study of her +life to win his love. + +She watched the stars until they faded from the skies, then buried her +face in her pillow, falling into an uneasy slumber, through which a +beautiful, flower-like, girlish face floated, and a slight, delicate +form knelt at her feet holding her arms out imploringly, sobbing out: + +"Do not take him from me--he is my world--I love him!" + +And with a heart racked by terrible jealousy, Pluma turned uneasily on +her pillow and opened her eyes. The stars were still glimmering in the +moonlighted sky. + +"Is the face of Daisy Brooks ever to haunt me thus?" she cried out, +impatiently. "How was I to know she was to die?" she muttered, +excitedly. "I simply meant to have Stanwick abduct her from the +seminary that Rex might believe him her lover and turn to me for +sympathy. I will not think of it," she cried; "I am not one to flinch +from a course of action I have marked out for myself, no matter what +the consequences may be, if I only gain Rex's love." + +And Pluma, the bride soon to be, turned her flushed face again to the +wall to dream again of Daisy Brooks. + +She little dreamed Rex, too, was watching the stars, as wakeful as +she, thinking of the past. + +Then he prayed Heaven to help him, so that no unworthy thought should +enter his mind. After that he slept, and one of the most painful days +of his life was ended. + +The days at Whitestone Hall flew by on rapid wings in a round of +gayety. The Hall was crowded with young folks, who were to remain +until after the marriage. Dinner parties were followed by May-pole +dances out on the green lawns, and by charades and balls in the +evening. The old Hall had never echoed with such frolicsome mirth +before. Rex plunged into the excitement with strange zest. No one +guessed that beneath his winning, careless smile his heart was almost +breaking. + +One morning Pluma was standing alone on the vine-covered terrace, +waiting for Rex, who had gone out to try a beautiful spirited horse +that had just been added to the stables of Whitestone Hall. She +noticed he had taken the unfrequented road the magnolia-trees shaded. +That fact bore no significance, certainly; still there was a strong +feeling of jealousy in her heart as she remembered that little wooden +cross he would be obliged to pass. Would he stop there? She could not +tell. + +"How I love him--and how foolish I am!" she laughed, nervously. "I +have no rival, yet I am jealous of his very thoughts, lest they dwell +on any one else but myself. I do not see how it is," she said, +thoughtfully, to herself, "why people laugh at love, and think it +weakness or a girl's sentimental folly. Why, it is the strongest of +human passions!" + +She heard people speak of her approaching marriage as "a grand +match"--she heard him spoken of as a wealthy Southerner, and she +laughed a proud, happy, rippling laugh. She was marrying Rex for love; +she had given him the deepest, truest love of her heart. + +Around a bend in the terrace she heard approaching footsteps and the +rippling of girlish laughter. + +"I can not have five minutes to myself to think," she said to herself, +drawing hastily back behind the thick screen of leaves until they +should pass. She did not feel in the humor just then to listen to Miss +Raynor's chatter or pretty Grace Alden's gossip. + +"Of course every one has a right to their own opinion," Grace was +saying, with a toss of her pretty nut-brown curls, "and I, for one, do +not believe he cares for her one whit." + +"It is certainly very strange," responded Miss Raynor, thoughtfully. +"Every one can see she is certainly in love with Rex; but I am afraid +it is quite a one-sided affair." + +"Yes," said Grace, laughing shyly, "a _very_ one-sided affair. Why, +have you ever noticed them together--how Pluma watches his face and +seems to live on his smiles? And as for Rex, he always seems to be +looking over her head into the distance, as though he saw something +there far more interesting than the face of his bride-to-be. That +doesn't look much like love or a contented lover." + +"If you had seen him this morning you might well say he did not look +contented," replied Miss Raynor, mysteriously. "I was out for a +morning ramble, and, feeling a little tired, I sat down on a +moss-covered stone to rest. Hearing the approaching clatter of a +horse's hoofs, I looked up and saw Rex Lyon coming leisurely down the +road. I could not tell you what prompted me to do it, but I drew +quietly back behind the overhanging alder branches that skirted the +brook, admiring him all unseen." + +"Oh, dear!" cried Grace, merrily, "this is almost too good to keep. +Who would imagine dignified Miss Raynor peeping admiringly at +handsome Rex, screened by the shadows of the alders!" + +"Now don't be ridiculous, Grace, or I shall be tempted not to tell you +the most interesting part," returned Miss Raynor, flushing hotly. + +"Oh, that would be too cruel," cried Grace, who delighted on anything +bordering on mystery. "Do tell it." + +"Well," continued Miss Raynor, dropping her voice to a lower key, +"when he was quite opposite me, he suddenly stopped short and quickly +dismounted from his horse, and picked up from the roadside a handful +of wild flowers." + +"What in the world could he want with them?" cried Grace, incredulously. + +"Want with them!" echoed Miss Raynor. "Why, he pressed them to his +lips, murmuring passionate, loving words over them. For one brief +instant his face was turned toward me, and I saw there were tears +standing in his eyes, and there was a look on his face I shall never +forget to my dying day. There was such hopeless woe upon it--indeed +one might have almost supposed, by the expression of his face, he was +waiting for his death-sentence to be pronounced instead of a marriage +ceremony, which was to give him the queenly heiress of Whitestone Hall +for a bride." + +"Perhaps there is some hidden romance in the life of handsome Rex the +world does not know of," suggested Grace, sagely. + +"I hope not," replied Miss Raynor. "I would hate to be a rival of +Pluma Hurlhurst's. I have often thought, as I watched her with Rex, it +must be terrible to worship one person so madly. I have often thought +Pluma's a perilous love." + +"Do not speak so," cried Grace. "You horrify me. Whenever I see her +face I am afraid those words will be ringing in my ears--a perilous +love." + +Miss Raynor made some laughing rejoinder which Pluma, white and +trembling behind the ivy vines, did not catch, and still discussing +the affair, they moved on, leaving Pluma Hurlhurst standing alone, +face to face with the truth, which she had hoped against hope was +false. Rex, who was so soon to be her husband, was certainly not her +lover. + +Her keen judgment had told her long ago all this had come about +through his mother's influence. + +Every word those careless lips had uttered came back to her heart with +a cruel stab. + +"Even my guests are noticing his coldness," she cried, with a +hysterical little sob. "They are saying to each other, 'He does not +love me'--I, who have counted my triumphs by the scores. I have +revealed my love in every word, tone and glance, but I can not awaken +one sentiment in his proud, cold heart." + +When she remembered the words, "He pressed them to his lips, murmuring +passionate, loving words over them," she almost cried aloud in her +fierce, angry passion. She knew, just as well as though she had +witnessed him herself, that those wild flowers were daisies, and she +knew, too, why he had kissed them so passionately. She saw the sun +shining on the trees, the flower-beds were great squares and circles +of color, the fountains sparkled in the sunlight, and restless +butterflies flitted hither and thither. + +For Pluma Hurlhurst, after that hour, the sunshine never had the same +light, the flowers the same color, her face the same smile, or her +heart the same joyousness. + +Never did "good and evil" fight for a human heart as they struggled in +that hour in the heart of the beautiful, willful heiress. All the +fire, the passion, and recklessness of her nature were aroused. + +"I will make him love me or I will die!" she cried, vehemently. "The +love I long for shall be mine. I swear it, cost what it may!" + +She was almost terribly beautiful to behold, as that war of passion +raged within her. + +She saw a cloud of dust arising in the distance. She knew it was Rex +returning, but no bright flush rose to her cheek as she remembered +what Miss Raynor had said of the wild flowers he had so rapturously +caressed--he had given a few rank wild flowers the depths of a +passionate love which he had never shown to her, whom he had asked to +be his wife. + +She watched him as he approached nearer and nearer, so handsome, so +graceful, so winning, one of his white hands carelessly resting on the +spirited animal's proudly arched, glossy neck, and with the other +raising his hat from his brown curls in true courtly cavalier fashion +to her, as he saw her standing there, apparently awaiting him on the +rose-covered terrace. + +He looked so handsome and lovable Pluma might have forgotten her +grievance had she not at that moment espied, fastened to the lapel of +his coat, a cluster of golden-hearted daisies. + +That sight froze the light in her dark, passionate eyes and the +welcome that trembled on her scarlet lips. + +He leaped lightly from the saddle, and came quickly forward to meet +her, and then drew back with a start. + +"What is the matter, Pluma?" he asked, in wonder. + +"Nothing," she replied, keeping her eyes fastened as if fascinated on +the offending daisies he wore on his breast. + +"I left you an hour ago smiling and happy. I find you white and worn. +There are strange lights in your eyes like the slumbrous fire of a +volcano; even your voice seems to have lost its tenderness. What is +it, Pluma?" + +She raised her dark, proud face to his. There was a strange story +written on it, but he could not tell what it was. + +"It--it is nothing. The day is warm, and I am tired, that is all." + +"You are not like the same Pluma who kissed me when I was going away," +he persisted. "Since I left this house something has come between you +and me. What is it, Pluma?" + +She looked up to him with a proud gesture that was infinitely +charming. + +"Is anything likely to come between us?" she asked. + +"No; not that I know of," he answered, growing more and more puzzled. + +"Then why imagine it?" she asked. + +"Because you are so changed, Pluma," he said. "I shall never perhaps +know the cause of your strange manner toward me, but I shall always +feel sure it is something which concerns myself. You look at me as +though you were questioning me," he said. "I wish you would tell me +what is on your mind?" + +"I do not suppose it could make the least difference," she answered, +passionately. "Yes, I will tell you, what you must have been blind not +to notice long ago. Have you not noticed how every one watches us with +a peculiar smile on their lips as we come among them; and how their +voices sink to a whisper lest we should overhear what they say? What +is commented upon by my very guests, and the people all about us? +Listen, then, it is this: Rex Lyon does not love the woman he has +asked to be his wife. The frosts of Iceland could not be colder than +his manner toward her. They say, too, that I have given you the truest +and deepest love of my heart, and have received nothing in return. +Tell me that it is all false, my darling. You do care for me, do you +not, Rex? Tell me," she implored. + +"Good heavens!" cried Rex, almost speechless in consternation; "do +they dare say such things? I never thought my conduct could give rise +to one reproach, one unkind thought." + +"Tell me you do care for me, Rex," she cried. "I have been almost mad +with doubt." + +There was something in the lovely face, in the tender, pleading eyes, +and quivering, scarlet mouth, that looked as if it were made for +kisses--that Rex would have had to have been something more than +mortal man to have resisted her pleading with sighs and tears for his +love, and refuse it, especially as she had every reason to expect it, +as he had asked her to be his wife. There was such a look of +unutterable love on her face it fairly bewildered him. The passion in +her voice startled him. What was he to do with this impetuous girl? +Rex looked as if he felt exceedingly uncomfortable. + +He took her in his arms and kissed her mechanically; he knew that was +what she wanted and what she expected him to do. + +"This must be my answer, dear," he said, holding her in a close +embrace. + +In that brief instant she had torn the daisies from the lapel of his +coat with her white, jeweled fingers, tossed them to the earth, and +stamped her dainty feet upon them, wishing in the depths of her soul +she could crush out all remembrance from his heart of the young girl +for whose memory this handsome lover of hers wore these wild blossoms +on his breast. + +As Rex looked down into her face he missed them, and quickly unclasped +his arms from around her with a little cry. + +Stooping down he instantly recovered his crushed treasures and lifted +them reverently in his hand with a sigh. + +"I can not say that I admire your taste, Rex," she said, with a short, +hard laugh, that somehow grated harshly on her lover's ears. "The +conservatories are blooming with rare and odorous flowers, yet you +choose these obnoxious plants; they are no more or less than a species +of weeds. Never wear them again, Rex--I despise them--throw them away, +and I will gather you a rare bouquet of white hyacinths and starry +jasmine and golden-rod bells." + +The intense quiver in her voice pained him, and he saw her face wore +the pallor of death, and her eyes were gleaming like restless fire. + +"I will not wear them certainly if you dislike them, Pluma," he said, +gravely, "but I do not care to replace them by any other; daisies are +the sweetest flowers on earth for me." + +He did not fasten them on his coat again, but transferred them to his +breast-pocket. She bit her scarlet lips in impotent rage. + +In the very moment of her supreme triumph and happiness he had +unclasped his arms from about her to pick up the daisies she had +crushed with her tiny heel--those daisies which reminded him of that +other love that still reigned in his heart a barrier between them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +"I do think it is a perfect shame those horrid Glenn girls are to be +invited up here to Rex's wedding," cried little Birdie Lyon, hobbling +into the room where Mrs. Corliss sat, busily engaged in hemming some +new table-linen, and throwing herself down on a low hassock at her +feet, and laying down her crutch beside her--"it is perfectly awful." + +"Why," said Mrs. Corliss, smoothing the nut-brown curls back from the +child's flushed face, "I should think you would be very pleased. They +were your neighbors when you were down in Florida, were they not?" + +"Yes," replied the little girl, frowning, "but I don't like them one +bit. Bess and Gertie--that's the two eldest ones, make me think of +those stiff pictures in the gay trailing dresses in the magazines. Eve +is nice, but she's a Tom-boy." + +"A wh--at!" cried Mrs. Corliss. + +"She's a Tom-boy, mamma always said; she romps, and has no manners." + +"They will be your neighbors when you go South again--so I suppose +your brother thought of that when he invited them." + +"He never dreamed of it," cried Birdie; "it was Miss Pluma's doings." + +"Hush, child, don't talk so loud," entreated the old housekeeper; "she +might hear you." + +"I don't care," cried Birdie. "I don't like her anyhow, and she knows +it. When Rex is around she is as sweet as honey to me, and calls me +'pretty little dear,' but when Rex isn't around she scarcely notices +me, and I _hate_ her--yes, I do." + +Birdie clinched her little hands together venomously, crying out the +words in a shrill scream. + +"Birdie," cried Mrs. Corliss, "you _must not_ say such hard, cruel +things. I have heard you say, over and over again, you liked Mr. +Hurlhurst, and you must remember Pluma is his daughter, and she is to +be your brother's wife. You must learn to speak and think kindly of +her." + +"I never shall like her," cried Birdie, defiantly, "and I am sure Mr. +Hurlhurst don't." + +"Birdie!" ejaculated the good lady in a fright, dropping her scissors +and spools in consternation; "let me warn you not to talk so again; +if Miss Pluma was to once hear you, you would have a sorry enough time +of it all your after life. What put it into your head Mr. Hurlhurst +did not like his own daughter?" + +"Oh, lots of things," answered Birdie. "When I tell him how pretty +every one says she is, he groans, and says strange things about fatal +beauty, which marred all his young life, and ever so many things I +can't understand, and his face grows so hard and so stern I am almost +afraid of him." + +"He is thinking of Pluma's mother," thought Mrs. Corliss--but she made +no answer. + +"He likes to talk to me," pursued the child, rolling the empty spools +to and fro with her crutch, "for he pities me because I am lame." + +"Bless your dear little heart," said Mrs. Corliss, softly stroking the +little girl's curls; "it is seldom poor old master takes to any one as +he has to you." + +"Do I look anything like the little child that died?" questioned +Birdie. + +A low, gasping cry broke from Mrs. Corliss's lips, and her face grew +ashen white. She tried to speak, but the words died away in her +throat. + +"He talks to me a great deal about her," continued Birdie, "and he +weeps such bitter tears, and has such strange dreams about her. Why, +only last night he dreamed a beautiful, golden-haired young girl came +to him, holding out her arms, and crying softly: 'Look at me, father; +I am your child. I was never laid to rest beneath the violets, in my +young mother's tomb. Father, I am in sore distress--come to me, +father, or I shall die!' Of course it was only a dream, but it makes +poor Mr. Hurlhurst cry so; and what do you think he said?" + +The child did not notice the terrible agony on the old housekeeper's +face, or that no answer was vouchsafed her. + +"'My dreams haunt me night and day,' he cried. 'To still this wild, +fierce throbbing of my heart I must have that grave opened, and gaze +once more upon all that remains of my loved and long-lost bride, sweet +Evalia and her little child.' He was--" + +Birdie never finished her sentence. + +A terrible cry broke from the housekeeper's livid lips. + +"My God!" she cried, hoarsely, "after nearly seventeen years the sin +of my silence is about to find me out at last." + +"What is the matter, Mrs. Corliss? Are you ill?" cried the startled +child. + +A low, despairing sob answered her, as Mrs. Corliss arose from her +seat, took a step or two forward, then fell headlong to the floor in a +deep and death-like swoon. + +Almost any other child would have been terrified, and alarmed the +household. + +Birdie was not like other children. She saw a pitcher of ice-water on +an adjacent table, which she immediately proceeded to sprinkle on the +still, white, wrinkled face; but all her efforts failed to bring the +fleeting breath back to the cold, pallid lips. + +At last the child became fairly frightened. + +"I must go and find Rex or Mr. Hurlhurst," she cried, grasping her +crutch, and limping hurriedly out of the room. + +The door leading to Basil Hurlhurst's apartments stood open--the +master of Whitestone Hall sat in his easy-chair, in morning-gown and +slippers, deeply immersed in the columns of his account-books. + +"Oh, Mr. Hurlhurst," cried Birdie, her little, white, scared face +peering in at the door, "won't you please come quick? Mrs. Corliss, +the housekeeper, has fainted ever so long ago, and I can't bring her +to!" + +Basil Hurlhurst hurriedly arose and followed the now thoroughly +frightened child quickly to the room where the old housekeeper lay, +her hands pressed close to her heart, the look of frozen horror +deepening on her face. + +Quickly summoning the servants, they raised her from the floor. It was +something more than a mere fainting fit. The poor old lady had fallen +face downward on the floor, and upon the sharp point of the scissors +she had been using, which had entered her body in close proximity to +her heart. The wound was certainly a dangerous one. The surgeon, who +was quickly summoned, shook his head dubiously. + +"The wound is of the most serious nature," he said. "She can not +possibly recover." + +"I regret this sad affair more than I can find words to express," said +Basil Hurlhurst, gravely. "Mrs. Corliss's whole life almost has been +spent at Whitestone Hall. You tell me, doctor, there is no hope. I can +scarcely realize it." + +Every care and attention was shown her; but it was long hours before +Mrs. Corliss showed signs of returning consciousness, and with her +first breath she begged that Basil Hurlhurst might be sent for at +once. + +He could not understand why she shrunk from him, refusing his +proffered hand. + +"Tell them all to leave the room," she whispered. "No one must know +what I have to say to you." + +Wondering a little what she had to say to him, he humored her wishes, +sending them all from the room. + +"Now, Mrs. Corliss," he said, kindly drawing his chair up close by the +bedside, "what is it? You can speak out without reserve; we are all +alone." + +"Is it true that I can not live?" she asked, eagerly scanning his +face. "Tell me truthfully, master, is the wound a fatal one?" + +"Yes," he said, sympathetically, "I--I--am afraid it is." + +He saw she was making a violent effort to control her emotions. "Do +not speak," he said, gently; "it distresses you. You need perfect rest +and quiet." + +"I shall never rest again until I make atonement for my sin," she +cried, feebly. "Oh, master, you have ever been good and kind to me, +but I have sinned against you beyond all hope of pardon. When you hear +what I have to say you will curse me. Oh, how can I tell it! Yet I can +not sleep in my grave with this burden on my soul." + +He certainly thought she was delirious, this poor, patient, toil-worn +soul, speaking so incoherently of sin; she, so tender-hearted--she +could not even have hurt a sparrow. + +"I can promise you my full pardon, Mrs. Corliss," he said, soothingly; +"no matter on what grounds the grievance may be." + +For a moment she looked at him incredulously. + +"You do not know what you say. You do not understand," she muttered, +fixing her fast-dimming eyes strangely upon him. + +"Do not give yourself any uneasiness upon that score, Mrs. Corliss," +he said, gently; "try to think of something else. Is there anything +you would like to have done for you?" + +"Yes," she replied, in a voice so hoarse and changed he could scarcely +recognize it was her who had spoken; "when I tell you all, promise me +you will not curse me; for I have sinned against you so bitterly that +you will cry out to Heaven asking why I did not die long years ago, +that the terrible secret I have kept so long might have been wrung +from my lips." + +"Surely her ravings were taking a strange freak," he thought to +himself; "yet he would be patient with her and humor her strange +fancy." + +The quiet, gentle expression did not leave his face, and she took +courage. + +"Master," she said, clasping her hands nervously together, "would it +pain you to speak of the sweet, golden-haired young girl-bride who +died on that terrible stormy night nearly seventeen years ago?" + +She saw his care-worn face grow white, and the lines of pain deepen +around his mouth. + +"That is the most painful of all subjects to me," he said, slowly. +"You know how I have suffered since that terrible night," he said +shudderingly. "The double loss of my sweet young wife and her little +babe has nearly driven me mad. I am a changed man, the weight of the +cross I have had to bear has crushed me. I live on, but my heart is +buried in the grave of my sweet, golden-haired Evalia and her little +child. I repeat, it is a painful subject, still I will listen to what +you have to say. I believe I owe my life to your careful nursing, when +I was stricken with the brain fever that awful time." + +"It would have been better if I had let you die then, rather than live +to inflict the blow which my words will give you. Oh, master!" she +implored, "I did not know then what I did was a sin. I feared to tell +you lest the shock might cost you your life. As time wore on, I grew +so deadly frightened I dared not undo the mischief my silence had +wrought. Remember, master, when you looked upon me in your bitterest, +fiercest moments of agony, what I did was for _your_ sake; to save +your bleeding heart one more pang. I have been a good and faithful +woman all my life, faithful to your interests." + +"You have indeed," he responded, greatly puzzled as to what she could +possibly mean. + +She tried to raise herself on her elbows, but her strength failed her, +and she sunk back exhausted on the pillow. + +"Listen, Basil Hurlhurst," she said, fixing her strangely bright eyes +upon his noble, care-worn face; "this is the secret I have carried in +this bosom for nearly seventeen years: 'Your golden-haired young wife +died on that terrible stormy night you brought her to Whitestone +Hall;' but listen, Basil, '_the child did not!_' It was stolen from +our midst on the night the fair young mother died." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +"My God!" cried Basil Hurlhurst, starting to his feet, pale as death, +his eyes fairly burning, and the veins standing out on his forehead +like cords, "you do not know what you say, woman! My little +child--Evalia's child and mine--not dead, but stolen on the night its +mother died! My God! it can not be; surely you are mad!" he shrieked. + +"It is true, master," she moaned, "true as Heaven." + +"You knew my child, for whom I grieved for seventeen long years, was +stolen--not dead--and dared to keep the knowledge from me?" he cried, +passionately, beside himself with rage, agony and fear. "Tell me +quickly, then, where I shall find my child!" he cried, breathlessly. + +"I do not know, master," she moaned. + +For a few moments Basil Hurlhurst strode up and down the room like a +man bereft of reason. + +"You will not curse me," wailed the tremulous voice from the bed; "I +have your promise." + +"I can not understand how Heaven could let your lips remain silenced +all these long, agonizing years, if your story be true. Why, yourself +told me my wife and child had both died on that never-to-be-forgotten +night, and were buried in one grave. How could you dare steep your +lips with a lie so foul and black? Heaven could have struck you dead +while the false words were yet warm on your lips!" + +"I dared not tell you, master," moaned the feeble voice, "lest the +shock would kill you; then, after you recovered, I grew afraid of the +secret I had dared to keep, and dared not tell you." + +"And yet you knew that somewhere in this cruel world my little child +was living--my tender, little fair-haired child--while I, her father, +was wearing my life out with the grief of that terrible double loss. +Oh, woman, woman, may God forgive you, for I never can, if your words +be true." + +"I feared such anger as this; that is why I dared not tell you," she +whispered, faintly. "I appeal to your respect for me in the past to +hear me, to your promise of forgiveness to shield me, to your love for +the little child to listen calmly while I have strength to speak." + +He saw she was right. His head seemed on fire, and his heart seemed +bursting with the acute intensity of his great excitement. + +He must listen while she had strength to tell him of his child. + +"Go on--go on!" he cried, hoarsely, burying his face in the +bed-clothes; "tell me of my child!" + +"You remember the terrible storm, master, how the tree moaned, and +without against the western wing--where your beautiful young wife lay +dead, with the pretty, smiling, blue-eyed babe upon her breast?" + +"Yes, yes--go on--you are driving me mad!" he groaned. + +"You remember how you fell down senseless by her bedside when we told +you the terrible news--the young child-bride was dead?" + +She knew, by the quivering of his form, he heard her. + +"As they carried you from the room, master, I thought I saw a woman's +form gliding stealthily on before, through the dark corridors. A blaze +of lightning illumined the hall for one brief instant, and I can swear +I saw a woman's face--a white, mocking, gloriously beautiful +face--strangely like the face of your first wife, master, Pluma's +mother. I knew it could not be her, for she was lying beneath the +sea-waves. It was not a good omen, and I felt sorely afraid and +greatly troubled. When I returned to the room from which they had +carried you--there lay your fair young wife with a smile on her +lips--but the tiny babe that had slumbered on her breast was gone." + +"Oh, God! if you had only told me this years ago," cried the unhappy +father. "Have you any idea who could have taken the child? It could +not have been for gain, or I should have heard of it long ago. I did +not know I had an enemy in the wide world. You say you saw a woman's +face?" he asked, thoughtfully. + +"It was the ghost of your first wife," asserted the old housekeeper, +astutely. "I never saw her face but once; but there was something +about it one could not easily forget." + +Basil Hurlhurst was not a superstitious man, yet he felt a strange, +unaccountable dread stealing over him at the bare mention of such a +thing. It was more than he could endure to hear the name of the wife +he had loved, and the wife who slept beneath the wild sea-waves, +coupled in one breath--the fair young wife he had idolized, and the +dark, sparkling face of the wife who had brought upon him such +wretched folly in his youth! + +"Have you not some clew to give me?" he cried out in agony--"some way +by which I can trace her and learn her fate?" + +She shook her head. + +"This is unbearable!" he cried, pacing up and down the room like one +who had received an unexpected death-blow. "I am bewildered! Merciful +Heaven! which way shall I turn? This accounts for my restlessness all +these years, when I thought of my child--my restless longing and +fanciful dreams! I thought her quietly sleeping on Evalia's breast. +God only knows what my tender little darling has suffered, or in what +part of the world she lives, or if she lives at all!" + +It had been just one hour since Basil Hurlhurst had entered that room, +a placid-faced, gray-haired man. When he left it his hair was white as +snow from the terrible ordeal through which he had just passed. + +He scarcely dared hope that he should yet find her--where or how he +should find her, if ever. + +In the corridor he passed groups of maidens, but he neither saw nor +heard them. He was thinking of the child that had been stolen from him +in her infancy--the sweet little babe with the large blue eyes and +shining rings of golden hair. + +He saw Pluma and Rex greeting some new arrivals out on the flower-bordered +terrace, but he did not stop until he had reached his own apartments. + +He did not send for Pluma, to divulge the wonderful discovery he had +made. There was little sympathy or confidence between the father and +daughter. + +"I can never sleep again until I have some clew to my child!" he +cried, frantically wringing his hands. + +Hastily he touched the bell-rope. + +"Mason," he said to the servant who answered the summons, "pack my +valise at once. I am going to take the first train to Baltimore. You +have no time to lose." + +He did not hear the man's ejaculation of surprise as his eyes fell on +the face of the master who stood before him with hair white as +snow--so utterly changed in one short hour. + +"You couldn't possibly make the next train, sir; it leaves in a few +moments." + +"I tell you you _must_ make it!" cried Basil Hurlhurst. "Go and do as +I bid you at once! Don't stand there staring at me; you are losing +golden moments. Fly at once, I tell you!" + +Poor old Mason was literally astounded. What had come over his kind, +courteous master? + +"I have nothing that could aid them in the search," he said to +himself, pacing restlessly up and down the room. "Ah! stay!--there is +Evalia's portrait! The little one must look like her mother if she is +living yet!" + +He went to his writing-desk and drew from a private drawer a little +package tied with a faded ribbon, which he carefully untied with +trembling fingers. + +It was a portrait on ivory of a beautiful, girlish, dimpled face, with +shy, upraised blue eyes, a smiling rosebud mouth, soft pink cheeks, +and a wealth of rippling, sunny-golden hair. + +"She must look like this," he whispered. "God grant that I may find +her!" + +"Mr. Rex Lyon says, please may he see you a few moments, sir," said +Mason, popping his black head in at the door. + +"No; I do not wish to see any one, and I will not see any one. Have +you that satchel packed, I say?" + +"Yes, sir; it will be ready directly, sir," said the man, obediently. + +"Don't come to me with any more messages--lock everybody out. Do you +hear me, Mason? I _will_ be obeyed!" + +"Yes, sir, I hear. No one shall disturb you." + +Again Basil Hurlhurst turned to the portrait, paying little attention +to what was transpiring around him. "I shall put it at once in the +hands of the cleverest detectives," he mused; "surely they will be +able to find some trace of my lost darling." + +Seventeen years! Ah, what might have happened her in that time? The +master of Whitestone Hall always kept a file of the Baltimore papers; +he rapidly ran his eye down the different columns. + +"Ah, here is what I want," he exclaimed, stopping short. "Messrs. +Tudor, Peck & Co., Experienced Detectives, ---- Street, Baltimore. +They are noted for their skill. I will give the case into their hands. +If they restore my darling child alive and well into my hands I will +make them wealthy men--if she is dead, the blow will surely kill me." + +He heard voices debating in the corridor without. + +"Did you tell him I wished particularly to see him?" asked Rex, rather +discomfited at the refusal. + +"Yes, sir," said Mason, dubiously. + +"Miss Pluma, his daughter, wishes me to speak with him on a very +important matter. I am surprised that he so persistently refuses to +see me," said Rex, proudly, wondering if Pluma's father had heard that +gossip--among the guests--that he did not love his daughter. "I do not +know that I have offended the old gentleman in any way," he told +himself. "If it comes to that," he thought, "I can do no more than +confess the truth to him--the whole truth about poor little Daisy--no +matter what the consequences may be." + +Fate was playing at cross-purposes with handsome Rex, but no subtle +warning came to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +The preparations for the wedding went steadily on. It was to be a +magnificent affair. Inside and outside of Whitestone Hall fairly +glowed with brilliancy and bloom. + +Rex's deportment toward his promised bride was exemplary; he did his +best to show her every possible attention and kindness in lieu of the +love which should have been hers. + +There seemed to be no cloud in Pluma Hurlhurst's heaven. + +She had no warning of the relentless storm-cloud that was gathering +above her head and was so soon to burst upon her in all its fury. + +She walked among her guests with a joyous, happy smile and the air of +a queen. Why should she not? On the morrow she would gain the prize +she coveted most on earth--she would be Rex's wife. + +Her father had gone unexpectedly to Baltimore, and the good old +housekeeper had been laid to rest, but in the excitement and bustle +attending the great coming event these two incidents created little +comment. + +Mirth and gayety reigned supreme, and the grim old halls resounded +with laughter and song and gay young voices from morning until night. + +Pluma, the spoiled, petted, willful heiress, was fond of excitement +and gay throngs. + +"Our marriage must be an event worthy of remembrance, Rex," she said, +as they walked together through the grounds the morning before the +wedding. "We must have something new and novel. I am tired of +brilliant parlors and gas-light. I propose we shall have a beautiful +platform built, covered with moss and roses, beneath the blossoming +trees, with the birds singing in their boughs, upon which we shall be +united. What do you think of my idea--is it not a pretty one?" + +"Your ideas are always poetical and fanciful," said Rex, glancing down +into the beautiful brilliant face beside him. "My thoughts are so dull +and prosy compared with yours, are you not afraid you will have a very +monotonous life-companion?" + +"I am going to try my best to win you from that cold reserve. There +must not be one shadow between us; do you know, Rex, I have been +thinking, if anything should ever happen to take your love from me I +should surely die. I--I am jealous of your very thoughts. I know I +ought not to admit it, but I can not help it." + +Rex flushed nervously; it was really embarrassing to him, the tender +way in which she looked up to him--her black eyelids coyly drooping +over her dark, slumbrous eyes, inviting a caress. He was certainly +wooed against his will, but there was no help for it; he was forced to +take up his part and act it out gracefully. + +"You need not be jealous of my thoughts, Pluma," he replied, "for they +were all of you." + +"I wonder if they were pleasant thoughts?" she asked, toying with the +crimson flower-bells she holds in her white hands. "I have heard you +sigh so much of late. Are you quite happy, Rex?" she inquired, +hesitatingly. + +The abruptness of the question staggered him: he recovered his +composure instantly, however. + +"How can you ask me such a question, Pluma?" he asked, evasively; "any +man ought to be proud of winning so peerless a treasure as you are. I +shall be envied by scores of disappointed lovers, who have worshiped +at your shrine. I am not as demonstrative as some might be under +similar circumstances, but my appreciation is none the less keen." + +She noticed he carefully avoided the word--love. + +In after years Rex liked to remember that, yielding to a kindly +impulse, he bent down and kissed her forehead. + +It was the first time he had caressed her voluntarily; it was not love +which prompted the action--only kindness. + +"Perhaps you will love me some day with your whole heart, Rex?" she +asked. + +"You seem quite sure that I do not do that now?" he remarked. + +"Yes," she said, clasping his arm more closely, "I often fear you do +not, but as time passes you will give me all your affection. Love must +win love." + +Other young girls could not have made such an open declaration without +rosy blushes suffusing their cheeks; they would have been frightened +at their free-spoken words, even though the morrow _was_ their +wedding-day. + +She stood before him in her tall, slim loveliness, as fair a picture +as any man's eyes could rest on. She wore a most becoming dress, and a +spring blossom was in her hair. Almost any other man's heart would +have warmed toward her as she raised her dark eyes to his and the +white fingers trembled on his arm. + +Rex was young, impulsive, and mortal; tender words from such lovely +lips would have intoxicated any man. Yet from that faithful heart of +his the words did not take one thought that belonged to Daisy; he did +his utmost to forget that sunny, golden memory. + +To Pluma, handsome, courtly Rex was an enigma. In her own mind she +liked him all the better because he had not fallen down and worshiped +her at once. Most men did that. + +For several moments they walked along in utter silence--until they had +reached the brink of the dark pool, which lay quite at the further end +of the inclosure. + +Pluma gave a little shuddering scream: + +"I did not mean to bring you here," she cried. "I always avoid this +path; the waters of the pool have always had a great dread for me." + +"It should be filled up," said Rex, "or fenced around; it is certainly +a dangerous locality." + +"It can not be filled up," she returned, laughingly; "it is said to be +bottomless. I do not like to think of it; come away, Rex." + +The magnificent bridal costume, ordered expressly from Paris, had +arrived--perfect even to the last detail. The bride-maids' costumes +were all ready; and to everything in and about the Hall the last +finishing touches had been given. + +All the young girls hovered constantly around Pluma, in girl-fashion +admiring the costume, the veil, the wreath, and above all the +radiantly beautiful girl who was to wear them. Even the Glenn girls +and Grace Alden were forced to admit the willful young heiress would +make the most peerless bride they had ever beheld. + +Little Birdie alone held aloof, much to Rex's amusement and Pluma's +intense mortification. + +"Little children often take such strange freaks," she would say to +Rex, sweetly. "I really believe your little sister intends never to +like me; I can not win one smile from her." + +"She is not like other children," he replied, with a strange twinkle +in his eye. "She forms likes and dislikes to people from simply +hearing their name. Of course I agree with you it is not right to do +so, but Birdie has been humored more or less all her life. I think she +will grow to love you in time." + +Pluma's lips quivered like the lips of a grieving child. + +"I shall try so hard to make her love me, because she is your sister, +Rex." + +He clasped the little jeweled hands that lay so confidingly within his +own still closer, saying he knew she could not help but succeed. + +The whole country-side was ringing with the coming marriage. No one +could be more popular than handsome Rex Lyon, no one admired more than +the young heiress of Whitestone Hall. The county papers were in +ecstasies; they discussed the magnificent preparations at the Hall, +the number of bride-maids, the superb wedding-presents, the +arrangements for the marriage, and the ball to be given in the +evening. + +The minister from Baltimore who was to perform the ceremony was +expected to arrive that day. That all preparations might be completed +for the coming morrow, Rex had gone down to meet the train, and Pluma +strolled into the conservatory, to be alone for a few moments with +her own happy thoughts. + +Out on the green lawns happy maidens were tripping here and there, +their gay laughter floating up to her where she stood. + +Every one seemed to be making the most of the happy occasion. +Lawn-tennis parties here and croquet-parties there, and lovers +strolling under the blossoming trees or reclining on the rustic +benches--it was indeed a happy scene. + +Pluma leaned her dark head against the fragrant roses. The breeze, the +perfume of the flowers, all told one story to the impassioned +girl--the story of her triumph and her mad, reckless love. + +She gathered a spray of the fairest flowers, and fastened them in the +bodice of her dress. + +"To-morrow I shall have won the one great prize I covet," she +murmured, half aloud. "After to-morrow I can defy Lester Stanwick to +bring one charge against me. I shall be Rex's wife--it will avail him +nothing." + +"Speaking of angels, you often hear 'the rustle of their wings.' I +believe there is an old adage of that sort, or something similar," +said a deep voice beside her, and turning around with a low cry she +saw Lester Stanwick himself standing before her. + +For one moment her lips opened as though to utter a piercing cry, but +even the very breath seemed to die upon them, they were so fixed and +still. + +The flowers she held in her hand fell into the fountain against which +she leaned, but she did not heed them. + +Like one fascinated, her eyes met the gaze of the bold, flashing dark +ones bent so steadily upon her. + +"You thought you would escape me," he said. "How foolish and blind you +are, my clever plotter. Did you think I did not see through your +clever maneuverings? There shall be a wedding to-morrow, but you shall +marry me, instead of handsome, debonair Rex. You can not fly from your +fate." + +She set her lips firmly together. She had made a valiant struggle. She +would defy him to the bitter end. She was no coward, this beautiful, +imperious girl. She would die hard. Alas! she had been too sanguine, +hoping Lester Stanwick would not return before the ceremony was +performed. + +The last hope died out of that proud, passionate heart--as well hope +to divert a tiger from its helpless prey as expect Lester Stanwick to +relinquish any plans he had once formed. + +"I have fought my fight," she said to herself, "and have failed on the +very threshold of victory, still, I know how to bear defeat. What do +you propose to do?" she said, huskily. "If there is any way I can buy +your silence, name your price, keeping back the truth will avail me +little now. I love Rex, and no power on earth shall prevent me from +becoming his wife." + +Lester Stanwick smiled superciliously--drawing from his pocket a +package of letters. + +"Money could not purchase these charming _billets-doux_ from me," he +said. "This will be charming reading matter for the Honorable Rex +Lyon, and the general public to discuss." + +She raised her flashing eyes unflinchingly to his face, but no word +issued from her white lips. + +"A splendid morsel for the gossips to whisper over. The very refined +and exclusive heiress of Whitestone Hall connives to remove an +innocent rival from her path, by providing money for her to be sent +off secretly to boarding-school, from which she is to be abducted and +confined in a mad-house. Your numerous letters give full instructions; +it would be useless to deny these accusations. I hold proof +positive." + +"That would not screen you," she said, scornfully. + +"I did not carry out your plans. No matter what the intentions were, +the points in the case are what actually happened. I can swear I +refused to comply with your nefarious wishes, even though you promised +me your hand and fortune if I succeeded," he answered, mockingly. + +"Will not money purchase your silence?" she said, with a deep-drawn +breath. "I do not plead with you for mercy or compassion," she said, +haughtily. + +Lester Stanwick laughed a mocking laugh. + +"Do not mistake me, Miss Pluma," he said, making no attempt at +love-making; "I prefer to wrest you from Rex Lyon. I have contemplated +with intense satisfaction the blow to his pride. It will be a glorious +revenge, also giving me a charming bride, and last, but not least, the +possession at some future day of Whitestone Hall and the Hurlhurst +Plantations. A pleasing picture, is it not, my dear?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Pluma Hurlhurst never quailed beneath the cold, mocking glance bent +upon her. + +There was no hope for her; disgrace and ruin stared her in the face; +she would defy even Fate itself to the bitter end with a heroism +worthy of a better cause. In that hour and that mood she was capable +of anything. + +She leaned against a tall palm-tree, looking at him with a strange +expression on her face, as she made answer, slowly: + +"You may depend upon it, I shall never marry you, Lester Stanwick. If +I do not marry Rex I shall go unmarried to the grave. Ah, no!" she +cried desperately; "Heaven will have more mercy, more pity than to +take him from me." + +"What mercy or pity did you feel in thrusting poor little Daisy Brooks +from his path?" asked Stanwick, sarcastically. "Your love has led you +through dangerous paths. I should call it certainly a most perilous +love." + +She recoiled from him with a low cry, those words again still ringing +in her ears, "A perilous love." + +She laughed with a laugh that made even Stanwick's blood run cold--a +horrible laugh. + +"I do not grieve that she is dead," she said. "You ought to understand +by this time I shall allow nothing to come between Rex and me." + +"You forget the fine notions of honor your handsome lover entertains; +it may not have occurred to you that he might object at the eleventh +hour." + +"He will not," she cried, fiercely, her bosom rising and falling +convulsively under its covering of filmy lace and the diamond brooch +which clasped it. "You do not know the indomitable will of a desperate +woman," she gasped. "I will see him myself and confess all to him, if +you attempt to reveal the contents of those letters. He will marry me +and take me abroad at once. If I have Rex's love, what matters it what +the whole world knows or says?" + +She spoke rapidly, vehemently, with flushed face and glowing eyes; and +even in her terrible anger Stanwick could not help but notice how +gloriously beautiful she was in her tragic emotion. + +"I have asked you to choose between us," he said, calmly, "and you +have chosen Rex regardless of all the promises of the past. The +consequences rest upon your own head." + +"So be it," she answered, haughtily. + +With a low bow Stanwick turned and left her. + +"_Au revoir_, my dear Pluma," he said, turning again toward her on the +threshold. "Not farewell--I shall not give up hope of winning the +heiress of Whitestone Hall." + +For several moments she stood quite still among the dark-green shrubs, +and no sound told of the deadly strife and despair. Would he see Rex +and divulge the crime she had planned? Ah! who would believe she, the +proud, petted heiress had plotted so cruelly against the life of an +innocent young girl because she found favor in the eyes of the lover +she had sworn to win? Ah! who could believe she had planned to confine +that sweet young life within the walls of a mad-house until death +should release her? + +What if the plan had failed? The intention still remained the same. +She was thankful, after all, the young girl was dead. + +"I could never endure the thought of Rex's intense anger if he once +imagined the truth; he would never forgive duplicity," she cried, +wildly. + +The proud, beautiful girl, radiant with love and happiness a short +time since, with a great cry flung herself down among the ferns, the +sunlight gleaming on the jewels, the sumptuous morning dress, the +crushed roses, and the white, despairing face. + +Any one who saw Pluma Hurlhurst when she entered the drawing-room +among her merry-hearted guests, would have said that she had never +shed a tear or known a sigh. Could that be the same creature upon +whose prostrate figure and raining tears the sunshine had so lately +fallen? No one could have told that the brightness, the smiles, and +the gay words were all forced. No one could have guessed that beneath +the brilliant manner there was a torrent of dark, angry passions and +an agony of fear. + +It was pitiful to see how her eyes wandered toward the door. Hour +after hour passed, and still Rex had not returned. + +The hum of girlish voices around her almost made her brain reel. Grace +Alden and Miss Raynor were singing a duet at the piano. The song they +were singing fell like a death-knell upon her ears; it was "'He Cometh +Not,' She Said." + +Eve Glenn, with Birdie upon her lap, sat on an adjoining sofa flirting +desperately with the two or three devoted beaus; every one was +discussing the prospect of the coming morrow. + +Her father had returned from Baltimore some time since. She was too +much engrossed with her thoughts of Rex to notice the great change in +him--the strange light in his eyes, or the wistful, expectant +expression of his face, as he kissed her more fondly than he had ever +done in his life before. + +She gave appropriate answers to her guests grouped around her, but +their voices seemed afar off. Her heart and her thoughts were with +Rex. Why had he not returned? What was detaining him? Suppose anything +should happen--it would kill her now--yet nothing could go wrong on +the eve of her wedding-day. She would not believe it. Stanwick would +not dare go to Rex with such a story--he would write it--and all +those things took time. With care and caution and constant watching +she would prevent Rex from receiving any communications whatever until +after the ceremony; then she could breathe freely, for the battle so +bravely fought would be won. + +"If to-morrow is as bright as to-day, Pluma will have a glorious +wedding-day," said Bessie Glenn, smiling up into the face of a +handsome young fellow who was fastening a rosebud she had just given +him in the lapel of his coat with one hand, and with the other tightly +clasping the white fingers that had held the rose. + +He did not notice that Pluma stood in the curtained recesses of an +adjoining window as he answered, carelessly enough: + +"Of course, I hope it will be a fine, sunshiny day, but the +indications of the weather don't look exactly that way, if I am any +judge." + +"Why, you don't think it is going to rain, do you? Why, it will spoil +the rose-bower she is to be married in and all the beautiful +decoration. Oh, please don't predict anything so awfully horrible; you +make me feel nervous; besides, you know what everybody says about +weddings on which the rain falls." + +"Would you be afraid to experiment on the idea?" asked the impulsive +young fellow, who always acted on the spur of the moment. "If +to-morrow were a rainy day, and I should say to you, 'Bess, will you +marry me to-day or never?' what would your answer be?" + +"I should say, just now, I do not like 'ifs and ands.' Supposing a +case, and standing face to face with it, are two different things. I +like people who say what they mean, and mean what they say." + +Pluma saw the dazzling light flame into the bashful young lover's eyes +as he bent his head lower over the blushing girl who had shown him the +right way to capture a hesitating heart. + +"_That_ is love," sighed Pluma. "Ah, if Rex would only look at me like +that I would think this earth a heaven." She looked up at the bright, +dazzling clouds overhead; then she remembered the words she had +heard--"It looked like rain on the morrow." + +Could those white, fleecy clouds darken on the morrow that was to give +her the only treasure she had ever coveted in her life? + +She was not superstitious. Even if it did rain, surely a few +rain-drops could not make or mar the happiness of a lifetime. She +would not believe it. + +"Courage until to-morrow," she said, "and my triumph will be complete. +I will have won Rex." The little ormolu clock on the mantel chimed the +hour of five. "Heavens!" she cried to herself, "Rex has been gone over +two hours. I feel my heart must be bursting." + +No one noticed Pluma's anxiety. One moment hushed and laughing, the +queen of mirth and revelry, then pale and silent, with shadowed eyes, +furtively glancing down the broad, pebbled path that led to the +entrance gate. + +Yet, despite her bravery, Pluma's face and lips turned white when she +heard the confusion of her lover's arrival. + +Perhaps Pluma had never suffered more suspense in all her life than +was crowded into those few moments. + +Had he seen Lester Stanwick? Had he come to denounce her for her +treachery, in his proud, clear voice, and declare the marriage broken +off? + +She dared not step forward to greet him, lest the piercing glance of +his eyes would cause her to fall fainting at his feet. + +"A guilty conscience needs no accuser." Most truly the words were +exemplified in her case. Yet not one pang of remorse swept across her +proud heart when she thought of the young girl whose life she had so +skillfully blighted. + +What was the love of Daisy Brooks, an unsophisticated child of nature, +only the overseer's niece, compared to her own mighty, absorbing +passion? + +The proud, haughty heiress could not understand how Rex, polished, +courteous and refined, could have stooped to such a reckless folly. He +would thank her in years to come for sparing him from such a fate. +These were the thoughts she sought to console herself with. + +She stood near the door when he entered, but he did not see her; a +death-like pallor swept over her face, her dark eyes had a wild, +perplexing look. + +She was waiting in terrible suspense for Rex to call upon her name; +ask where she was, or speak some word in which she could read her +sentence of happiness or despair in the tone of his voice. + +She could not even catch the expression of his face; it was turned +from her. She watched him so eagerly she hardly dared draw her +breath. + +Rex walked quickly through the room, stopping to chat with this one or +that one a moment; still, his face was not turned for a single instant +toward the spot where she stood. + +Was he looking for her? She could not tell. Presently he walked toward +the conservatory, and a moment later Eve Glenn came tripping toward +her. + +"Oh, here you are!" she cried, flinging her arms about her in regular +school-girl _abandon_, and kissing the cold, proud mouth, that deigned +no answering caress. "Rex has been looking for you everywhere, and at +last commissioned me to find you and say he wants to speak to you. He +is out on the terrace." + +How she longed to ask if Rex's face was smiling or stern, but she +dared not. + +"Where did you say Rex was, Miss Glenn?" + +"I said he was out on the terrace; but don't call me Miss Glenn, for +pity's sake--it sounds so freezingly cold. Won't you please call me +Eve," cried the impetuous girl--"simply plain Eve? That has a more +friendly sound, you know." + +Another girl less proud than the haughty heiress would have kissed +Eve's pretty, piquant, upturned, roguish face. + +"What did Rex have to say to her?" she asked herself, in growing +dread. + +The last hope seemed withering in her proud, passionate heart. She +rose haughtily, and walked with the dignity of a queen through the +long drawing-room toward the terrace. Her heart almost stopped beating +as she caught sight of Rex leaning so gracefully against the trunk of +an old gnarled oak tree, smoking a cigar. That certainly did not look +as if he meant to greet her with a kiss. + +She went forward hesitatingly--a world of anxiety and suspense on her +face--to know her fate. The color surged over her face, then receded +from it again, as she looked at him with a smile--a smile that was +more pitiful than a sigh. + +"Rex," she cried, holding out her hands to him with a fluttering, +uncertain movement that stirred the perfumed laces of the exquisite +robe she wore, and the jewels on her white, nervous hands--"Rex, I am +here!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +We must now return to Daisy, whom we left standing in the heart of the +forest, the moonlight streaming on her upturned face, upon which the +startled horseman gazed. + +He had not waited for her to reply, but, touching his horse hastily +with his riding-whip, he sped onward with the speed of the wind. + +In that one instant Daisy had recognized the dark, sinister, handsome +face of Lester Stanwick. + +"They have searched the pit and found I was not there. He is searching +for me; he has tracked me down!" she cried, vehemently, pressing her +little white hands to her burning head. + +Faster, faster flew the little feet through the long dew-damp +grasses. + +"My troubles seem closing more darkly around me," she sobbed. "I wish +I had never been born, then I could never have spoiled Rex's life. But +I am leaving you, my love, my darling, so you can marry Pluma, the +heiress. You will forget me and be happy." + +Poor little, neglected, unloved bride, so fair, so young, so fragile, +out alone facing the dark terrors of the night, fleeing from the young +husband who was wearing his life out in grief for her. Ah, if the +gentle winds sighing above her, or the solemn, nodding trees had only +told her, how different her life might have been! + +"No one has ever loved me but poor old Uncle John!" She bent her fair +young head and cried out to Heaven: "Why has no mercy been shown to +me? I have never done one wrong, yet I am so sorely tried. Oh, mother, +mother!" she cried, raising her blue eyes up to the starry sky, "if +you could have foreseen the dark, cruel shadows that would have folded +their pitiless wings over the head of your child, would you not have +taken me with you down into the depths of the seething waters?" She +raised up her white hands pleadingly as though she would fain pierce +with her wrongs the blue skies, and reach the great White Throne. "I +must be going mad," she said. "Why did Rex seek me out?" she cried, in +anguish. "Why did Heaven let me love him so madly, and my whole life +be darkened by living apart from him if I am to live? I had no thought +of suffering and sorrow when I met him that summer morning. Are the +summer days to pass and never bring him? Are the flowers to bloom, the +sun to shine, the years to come and go, yet never bring him once to +me? I can not bear it--I do not know how to live!" + +If she could only see poor old, faithful John Brooks again she would +kneel at his feet just as she had done when she was a little child, +lay her weary head down on his toil-hardened hand, tell him how she +had suffered, and ask him how she could die and end it all. + +She longed so hungrily for some one to caress her, murmuring tender +words over her. She could almost hear his voice saying as she told +him her pitiful story: "Come to my arms, pet, my poor little trampled +Daisy! You shall never want for some one to love you while poor old +Uncle John lives. Bless your dear little heart!" + +The longing was strongly upon her. No one would recognize her--she +_must_ go and see poor old John. She never thought what would become +of her life after that. + +At the station she asked for a ticket for Allendale. No one seemed to +know of such a place. After a prolonged search on the map the agent +discovered it to be a little inland station not far from Baltimore. + +"We can sell you a ticket for Baltimore," he said, "and there you can +purchase a ticket for the other road." + +And once again poor little Daisy was whirling rapidly toward the scene +of her first great sorrow. + +Time seemed to slip by her unheeded during all that long, tedious +journey of two nights and a day. + +"Are you going to Baltimore?" asked a gentle-faced lady, who was +strangely attracted to the beautiful, sorrowful young girl, in which +all hope, life, and sunshine seemed dead. + +"Yes, madame," she made answer, "I change cars there; I am going +further." + +The lady was struck by the peculiar mournful cadence of the young +voice. + +"I beg your pardon for my seeming rudeness," she said, looking long +and earnestly at the fair young face; "but you remind me so strangely +of a young school-mate of my youth; you are strangely like what she +was then. We both attended Madame Whitney's seminary. Perhaps you have +heard of the institution; it is a very old and justly famous school." +She wondered at the beautiful flush that stole into the girl's +flower-like face--like the soft, faint tinting of a sea-shell. "She +married a wealthy planter," pursued the lady, reflectively; "but she +did not live long to enjoy her happy home. One short year after she +married Evalia Hurlhurst died." The lady never forgot the strange +glance that passed over the girl's face, or the wonderful light that +seemed to break over it. "Why," exclaimed the lady, as if a sudden +thought occurred to her, "when you bought your ticket I heard you +mention Allendale. That was the home of the Hurlhursts. Is it possible +you know them? Mr. Hurlhurst is a widower--something of a recluse, and +an invalid, I have heard; he has a daughter called Pluma." + +"Yes, madame," Daisy made answer, "I have met Miss Hurlhurst, but not +her father." + +How bitterly this stranger's words seemed to mock her! Did she know +Pluma Hurlhurst, the proud, haughty heiress who had stolen her young +husband's love from her?--the dark, sparkling, willful beauty who had +crossed her innocent young life so strangely--whom she had seen +bending over _her_ husband in the pitying moonlight almost caressing +him? She thought she would cry out with the bitterness of the thought. +How strange it was! The name, Evalia Hurlhurst, seemed to fall upon +her ears like the softest, sweetest music. Perhaps she wished she was +like that young wife, who had died so long ago, resting quietly +beneath the white daisies that bore her name. + +"That is Madame Whitney's," exclaimed the lady, leaning forward toward +the window excitedly. "Dear me! I can almost imagine I am a young girl +again. Why, what is the matter, my dear? You look as though you were +about to faint." + +The train whirled swiftly past--the broad, glittering Chesapeake on +one side, and the closely shaven lawn of the seminary on the other. It +was evidently recess. Young girls were flitting here and there under +the trees, as pretty a picture of happy school life as one would wish +to see. It seemed to poor hapless Daisy long ages must have passed +since that morning poor old John Brooks had brought her, a shy, +blushing, shrinking country lassie, among those daintily attired, +aristocratic maidens, who had laughed at her coy, timid mannerism, and +at the clothes poor John wore, and at his flaming red cotton +neckerchief. + +She had not much time for further contemplation. The train steamed +into the Baltimore depot, and she felt herself carried along by the +surging crowd that alighted from the train. + +She did not go into the waiting-room; she had quite forgotten she was +not at the end of her journey. + +She followed the crowds along the bustling street, a solitary, +desolate, heart-broken girl, with a weary white face whose beautiful, +tender eyes looked in vain among the throngs that passed her by for +one kindly face or a sympathetic look. + +Some pushed rudely by her, others looked into the beautiful face with +an ugly smile. Handsomely got-up dandies, with fine clothes and no +brains, nodded familiarly as Daisy passed them. Some laughed, and +others scoffed and jeered; but not one--dear Heaven! not one among the +vast throng gave her a kindly glance or a word. Occasionally one, +warmer hearted than the others, would look sadly on that desolate, +beautiful, childish face. + +A low moan she could scarcely repress broke from her lips. A +handsomely dressed child, who was rolling a hoop in front of her, +turned around suddenly and asked her if she was ill. + +"Ill?" She repeated the word with a vague feeling of wonder. What was +physical pain to the torture that was eating away her young life? Ill? +Why, all the illness in the world put together could not cause the +anguish she was suffering then--the sting of a broken heart. + +She was not ill--only desolate and forsaken. + +Poor Daisy answered in such a vague manner that she quite frightened +the child, who hurried away as fast as she could with her hoop, +pausing now and then to look back at the white, forlorn face on which +the sunshine seemed to cast such strange shadows. + +On and on Daisy walked, little heeding which way she went. She saw +what appeared to be a park on ahead, and there she bent her steps. The +shady seats among the cool green grasses under the leafy trees looked +inviting. She opened the gate and entered. A sudden sense of dizziness +stole over her, and her breath seemed to come in quick, convulsive +gasps. + +"Perhaps God has heard my prayer, Rex, my love," she sighed. "I am +sick and weary unto death. Oh, Rex--Rex--" + +The beautiful eyelids fluttered over the soft, blue eyes, and with +that dearly loved name on her lips, the poor little child-bride sunk +down on the cold, hard earth in a death-like swoon. + +"Oh, dear me, Harvey, who in the world is this?" cried a little, +pleasant-voiced old lady, who had witnessed the young girl enter the +gate, and saw her stagger and fall. In a moment she had fluttered down +the path, and was kneeling by Daisy's side. + +"Come here, Harvey," she called; "it is a young girl; she has +fainted." + +Mr. Harvey Tudor, the celebrated detective, threw away the cigar he +had been smoking, and hastened to his wife's side. + +"Isn't she beautiful?" cried the little lady, in ecstasy. "I wonder +who she is, and what she wanted." + +"She is evidently a stranger, and called to consult me professionally," +responded Mr. Tudor; "she must be brought into the house." + +He lifted the slight, delicate figure in his arms, and bore her into +the house. + +"I am going down to the office now, my dear," he said; "we have some +important cases to look after this morning. I will take a run up in +the course of an hour or so. If the young girl should recover and +wish to see me very particularly, I suppose you will have to send for +me. Don't get me away up here unless you find out the case is +imperative." + +And with a good-humored nod, the shrewd detective, so quiet and +domesticated at his own fireside, walked quickly down the path to the +gate, whistling softly to himself--thinking with a strange, puzzled +expression in his keen blue eyes, of Daisy. Through all of his +business transactions that morning the beautiful, childish face was +strangely before his mind's eye. + +"Confound it!" he muttered, seizing his hat, "I must hurry home and +find out at once who that pretty little creature is--and what she +wants." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +The sunny summer days came and went, lengthening themselves into long +weeks before Daisy Brooks opened her eyes to consciousness. No clew +could be found as to who the beautiful young stranger was. + +Mr. Tudor had proposed sending her to the hospital--but to this +proposition his wife would not listen. + +"No, indeed, Harvey," she exclaimed, twisting the soft, golden curls +over her white fingers, "she shall stay here where I can watch over +her myself, poor little dear." + +"You amaze me, my dear," expostulated her husband, mildly. "You can +not tell who you may be harboring." + +"Now, Harvey," exclaimed the little woman, bending over the beautiful, +still, white face resting against the crimson satin pillow, "don't +insinuate there could be anything wrong with this poor child. My +woman's judgment tells me she is as pure as those lilies in yonder +fountain's bed." + +"If you had seen as much of the world as I have, my dear, you would +take little stock in the innocence of beautiful women; very homely +women are rarely dangerous." + +"There is no use in arguing the point, Harvey. I have determined she +shall not be sent to the hospital, and she shall stay here." + +Mrs. Tudor carried the point, as she always did in every argument. + +"Well, my dear, if any ill consequences arise from this piece of folly +of yours, remember, I shirk all responsibility." + + "'When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't, + And when she won't--she won't, and there's an end on't,'" + +he quoted, dryly. "I sincerely hope you will not rue it." + +"Now, you would be surprised, my dear, to find out at some future time +you had been entertaining an angel unawares." + +"I should be _extremely_ surprised; you have put it mildly, my +dear--nay, I may say dumbfounded--to find an angel dwelling down here +below among us sinners. My experience has led me to believe the best +place for angels is up above where they belong. I am glad that _you_ +have such pretty little notions, though, my dear. It is not best for +women to know too much of the ways of the world." + +"Harvey, you shock me!" cried the little lady, holding up her hands in +horror at her liege lord's remarks. + +Still she had her own way in the matter, and Daisy stayed. + +Every day the detective grew more mystified as to who in the world she +could be. One thing was certain, she had seen some great trouble which +bid fair to dethrone her reason. + +At times she would clasp his hands, calling him Uncle John, begging +him piteously to tell her how she could die. And she talked +incoherently, too, of a dark, handsome woman's face, that had come +between her and some lost treasure. + +Then a grave look would come into the detective's face. He had seen +many such cases, and they always ended badly, he said to himself. She +had such an innocent face, so fair, so childish, he could not make up +his mind whether she was sinned against or had been guilty of a hidden +sin herself. + +Love must have something to do with it, he thought, grimly. Whenever +he saw such a hopeless, despairing look on a young and beautiful face +he always set it down as a love case in his own mind, and in nine +cases out of ten he was right. + +"Ah! it is the old, old story," he muttered. "A pretty, romantic +school-girl, and some handsome, reckless lover," and something very +much like an imprecation broke from his lips, thorough man of the +world though he was, as he ruminated on the wickedness of men. + +Two days before the marriage of Rex and Pluma was to be solemnized, +poor little Daisy awoke to consciousness, her blue eyes resting on the +joyous face of Mrs. Tudor, who bent over her with bated breath, gazing +into the upraised eyes, turned so wonderingly upon her. + +"You are to keep perfectly quiet, my dear," said Mrs. Tudor, +pleasantly, laying her hands on Daisy's lips as she attempted to +speak. "You must not try to talk or to think; turn your face from the +light, and go quietly to sleep for a bit, then you shall say what you +please." + +Daisy wondered who the lady was, as she obeyed her like an obedient, +tired child--the voice seemed so motherly, so kind, and so soothing, +as she lay there, trying to realize how she came there. Slowly all her +senses struggled into life, her memory came back, her mind and brain +grew clear. Then she remembered walking into the cool, shady garden, +and the dizziness which seemed to fall over her so suddenly. "I must +have fainted last night," she thought. She also remembered Pluma +bending so caressingly over her young husband in the moonlight, and +that the sight had almost driven her mad, and, despite her efforts to +suppress her emotion, she began to sob aloud. + +Mrs. Tudor hurried quickly to the bedside. She saw at once the ice +from the frozen fountain of memory had melted. + +"If you have any great sorrow on your mind, my dear, and wish to see +Mr. Tudor, I will call him at once. He is in the parlor." + +"Please don't," sobbed Daisy. "I don't want to see anybody. I must go +home to Uncle John at once. Have I been here all night?" + +"Why, bless your dear little heart, you have been here many a night +and many a week. We thought at one time you would surely die." + +"I wish I had," moaned Daisy. In the bitterness of her sorely wounded +heart she said to herself that Providence had done everything for her +without taking her life. + +"We thought," pursued Mrs. Tudor, gently, "that perhaps you desired to +see my husband--he is a detective--upon some matter. You fainted when +you were just within the gate." + +"Was it your garden?" asked Daisy, surprisedly. "I thought it was a +park!" + +"Then you were not in search of Mr. Tudor, my dear?" asked his wife, +quite mystified. + +"No," replied Daisy. "I wanted to get away from every one who knew me, +or every one I knew, except Uncle John." + +"I shall not question her concerning herself to-day," Mrs. Tudor +thought. "I will wait a bit until she is stronger." She felt delicate +about even asking her name. "She will seek my confidence soon," she +thought. "I must wait." + +Mrs. Tudor was a kind-hearted little soul. She tried every possible +means of diverting Daisy's attention from the absorbing sorrow which +seemed consuming her. + +She read her choice, sparkling paragraphs from the papers, commenting +upon them, in a pretty, gossiping way. + +Nothing seemed to interest the pretty little creature, or bring a +smile to the quivering, childish lips. + +"Ah! here is something quite racy!" she cried, drawing her chair up +closer to the bedside. "_A scandal in high life._ This is sure to be +entertaining." + +Mrs. Tudor was a good little woman, but, like all women in general, +she delighted in a spicy scandal. + +A handsome stranger had married a beautiful heiress. For a time all +went merry as a marriage-bell. Suddenly a second wife appeared on the +scene, of which no one previously knew the existence. The husband had +sincerely believed himself separated by law from wife number one, but +through some technicality of the law, the separation was pronounced +illegal, and the beautiful heiress bitterly realized to her cost that +she was no wife. + +"It must be a terrible calamity to be placed in such a predicament," +cried Mrs. Tudor, energetically. "I blame the husband for not finding +out beyond a doubt that he was free from his first wife." + +A sudden thought seemed to come to Daisy, so startling it almost took +her breath away. + +"Supposing a husband left his wife, and afterward thought her dead, +even though she were not, and he should marry again, would it not be +legal? Supposing the poor, deserted wife knew of it, but allowed him +to marry that some one else, because she believed he was unhappy with +herself, would it not be legal?" she repeated in an intense voice, +striving to appear calm. + +"I can scarcely understand the question, my dear. I should certainly +say, if the first wife knew her husband was about to remarry, and she +knew she was not separated from him by law or death, she was certainly +a criminal in allowing the ceremony to proceed. Why, did you ever hear +of such a peculiar case, my dear?" + +"No," replied Daisy, flushing crimson. "I was thinking of Enoch +Arden." + +"Why, there is scarcely a feature in Enoch Arden's case resembling the +one you have just cited. You must have made a mistake?" + +"Yes; you are right. I have made a mistake," muttered Daisy, growing +deadly pale. "I did not know. I believed it was right." + +"You believed what was right?" asked Mrs. Tudor, in amazement. + +"I believed it was right for the first wife to go out of her husband's +life if she had spoiled it, and leave him free to woo and win the +bride he loved," replied Daisy, pitifully embarrassed. + +"Why, you innocent child," laughed Mrs. Tudor, "I have said he would +_not_ be free as long as the law did not separate him from his first +wife, and she was alive. It is against the law of Heaven for any man +to have two wives; and if the first wife remained silent and saw the +sacred ceremony profaned by that silence, she broke the law of +Heaven--a sin against God beyond pardon. Did you speak?" she asked, +seeing Daisy's white lips move. + +She did not know a prayer had gone up to God from that young tortured +heart for guidance. + +Had she done wrong in letting Rex and the whole world believe her +dead? Was it ever well to do a wrong that good should come from it? + +And the clear, innocent, simple conscience was quick to answer, "No!" + +Poor Daisy looked at the position in every possible way, and the more +she reflected the more frightened she became. + +Poor, little, artless child-bride, she was completely bewildered. She +could find no way out of her difficulty until the idea occurred to her +that the best person to help her would be John Brooks; and her whole +heart and soul fastened eagerly on this. + +She could not realize she had lain ill so long. Oh, Heaven, what might +have happened in the meantime, if Rex should marry Pluma? She would +not be his wife because _she_--who was a barrier between them--lived. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +Daisy had decided the great question of her life. Yes, she would go to +John Brooks with her pitiful secret, and, kneeling at his feet, tell +him all, and be guided by his judgment. + +"I can never go back to Rex," she thought, wearily. "I have spoiled +his life; he does not love me; he wished to be free and marry Pluma." + +"You must not think of the troubles of other people, my dear," said +Mrs. Tudor, briskly, noting the thoughtful expression of the fair +young face. "Such cases as I have just read you are fortunately rare. +I should not have read you the scandals. Young girls like to hear +about the marriages best. Ah! here is one that is interesting--a grand +wedding which is to take place at Whitestone Hall, in Allendale, +to-morrow night. I have read of it before; it will be a magnificent +affair. The husband-to-be, Mr. Rexford Lyon, is very wealthy; and the +bride, Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, is quite a society belle--a beauty and an +heiress." + +Poor Daisy! although she had long expected it, the announcement seemed +like a death-blow to her loving little heart; in a single instant all +her yearning, passionate love for her handsome young husband awoke +into new life. + +She had suddenly awakened to the awful reality that her husband was +about to marry another. + +"Oh, pitiful Heaven, what shall I do?" she cried, wringing her hands. +"I will be too late to warn them. Yet I must--I must! It must not be!" +she cried out to herself; "the marriage would be wrong." If she +allowed it to go on, she would be guilty of a crime; therefore, she +must prevent it. + +Pluma was her mortal enemy. Yet she must warn her that the flower-covered +path she was treading led to a precipice. The very thought filled her +soul with horror. + +She wasted no more time in thinking, she must act. + +"I can not go to poor old Uncle John first," she told herself. "I must +go at once to Pluma. Heaven give me strength to do it. Rex will never +know, and I can go quietly out of his life again." + +The marriage must not be! Say, think, argue with herself as she would, +she could not help owning to herself that it was something that must +be stopped at any price. She had not realized it in its true light +before. She had had a vague idea that her supposed death would leave +Rex free to marry Pluma. That wrong could come of it, in any way, she +never once dreamed. + +The terrible awakening truth had flashed upon her suddenly; she might +hide herself forever from her husband, but it would not lessen the +fact; she, and she only, was his lawful wife before God and man. From +Heaven nothing could be hidden. + +Her whole heart seemed to go out to her young husband and cling to him +as it had never done before. + +"What a fatal love mine was!" she said to herself; "how fatal, how +cruel to me!" + +To-morrow night! Oh, Heaven! would she be in time to save him? The +very thought seemed to arouse all her energy. + +"Why, what are you going to do, my dear?" cried Mrs. Tudor, in +consternation, as Daisy staggered, weak and trembling, from her +couch. + +"I am going away," she cried. "I have been guilty of a great wrong. I +can not tell you all that I have done, but I must atone for it if it +is in my power while yet there is time. Pity me, but do not censure +me;" and sobbing as if her heart would break, she knelt at the feet of +the kind friend Heaven had given her and told her all. + +Mrs. Tudor listened in painful interest and amazement. It was a +strange story this young girl told her; it seemed more like a romance +than a page from life's history. + +"You say you must prevent this marriage at Whitestone Hall." She took +Daisy's clasped hands from her weeping face, and holding them in her +own looked into it silently, keenly, steadily. "How could you do it? +What is Rexford Lyon to you?" + +Lower and lower drooped the golden bowed head, and a voice like no +other voice, like nothing human, said: + +"I am Rex Lyon's wife, his wretched, unhappy, abandoned wife." + +Mrs. Tudor dropped her hands with a low cry of dismay. + +"You will keep my secret," sobbed Daisy; and in her great sorrow she +did not notice the lady did not promise. + +In vain Mrs. Tudor pleaded with her to go back to her husband and beg +him to hear her. + +"No," said Daisy, brokenly. "He said I had spoiled his life, and he +would never forgive me. I have never taken his name, and I never +shall. I will be Daisy Brooks until I die." + +"Daisy Brooks!" The name seemed familiar to Mrs. Tudor, yet she could +not tell where she had heard it before. + +Persuasion was useless. "Perhaps Heaven knows best," sighed Mrs. +Tudor, and with tears in her eyes (for she had really loved the +beautiful young stranger, thrown for so many long weeks upon her mercy +and kindness) she saw Daisy depart. + +"May God grant you may not be too late!" she cried, fervently, +clasping the young girl, for the last time, in her arms. + +Too late! The words sounded like a fatal warning to her. No, no; she +could not, she must not, be too late! + + * * * * * + +At the very moment Daisy had left the detective's house, Basil +Hurlhurst was closeted with Mr. Tudor in his private office, relating +minutely the disappearance of his infant daughter, as told him by the +dying housekeeper, Mrs. Corliss. + +"I will make you a rich man for life," he cried, vehemently, "if you +can trace my long-lost child, either dead or alive!" + +Mr. Tudor shook his head. "I am inclined to think there is little +hope, after all these years." + +"Stranger things than that have happened," cried Basil Hurlhurst, +tremulously. "You must give me hope, Mr. Tudor. You are a skillful, +expert detective; you will find her, if any one can. If my other child +were living," he continued, with an effort, "you know it would make +considerable difference in the distribution of my property. On the +night my lost child was born I made my will, leaving Whitestone Hall +and the Hurlhurst Plantations to the child just born, and the +remainder of my vast estates I bequeathed to my daughter Pluma. I +believed my little child buried with its mother, and in all these +years that followed I never changed that will--it still stands. My +daughter Pluma is to be married to-morrow night. I have not told her +of the startling discovery I have made; for if anything should come of +it, her hopes of a lifetime would be dashed. She believes herself sole +heiress to my wealth. I have made up my mind, however," he continued, +eagerly, "to confide in the young man who is to be my future +son-in-law. If nothing ever comes of this affair, Pluma need never +know of it." + +"That would be a wise and safe plan," assented the detective. + +"Wealth can have no influence over him," continued the father, +reflectively; "for Mr. Rex Lyon's wealth is sufficient for them, even +if they never had a single dollar from me; still, it is best to +mention this matter to him." + +Rex Lyon! Ah! the detective remembered him well--the handsome, +debonair young fellow who had sought his services some time since, +whose wife had died such a tragic death. He remembered how sorry he +had been for the young husband; still he made no comment. He had +little time to ruminate upon past affairs. It was his business now to +glean from Mr. Hurlhurst all the information possible to assist him in +the difficult search he was about to commence. If he gave him even the +slightest clew, he could have had some definite starting point. The +detective was wholly at sea--it was like looking for a needle in a +hay-stack. + +"You will lose no time," said Basil Hurlhurst, rising to depart. "Ah!" +he exclaimed, "I had forgotten to leave you my wife's portrait. I have +a fancy the child, if living, must have her mother's face." + +At that opportune moment some one interrupted them. Mr. Tudor had not +time to open the portrait and examine it then, and, placing it +securely in his private desk, he courteously bade Mr. Hurlhurst +good-afternoon; adding, if he _should_ find a possible clew, he would +let him know at once, or, perhaps, take a run up to Whitestone Hall to +look around a bit among the old inhabitants of that locality. + +It was almost time for quitting the office for the night, when the +detective thought of the portrait. He untied the faded blue ribbon, +and touched the spring; the case flew open, revealing a face that made +him cry out in amazement: + +"Pshaw! people have a strange trick of resembling each other very +often," he muttered; "I must be mistaken." + +Yet the more he examined the fair, bewitching face of the portrait, +with its childish face and sunny, golden curls, the more he knit his +brow and whistled softly to himself--a habit he had when thinking +deeply. + +He placed the portrait in his breast-pocket, and walked slowly home. A +brilliant idea was in his active brain. + +"I shall soon see," he muttered. + +His wife met him at the door, and he saw that her eyes were red with +weeping. + +"What is the commotion, my dear?" he asked, hanging his hat and coat +on the hat-rack in the hall. "What's the difficulty?" + +"Our protegee has gone, Harvey; she--" + +"Gone!" yelled the detective, frantically, "where did she go? How long +has she been gone?" + +Down from the rack came his hat and coat. + +"Where are you going, Harvey?" + +"I am going to hunt that girl up just as fast as I can." + +"She did not wish to see you, my dear." + +"I haven't the time to explain to you," he expostulated. "Of course, +you have no idea where she went, have you?" + +"Wait a bit, Harvey," she replied, a merry twinkle in her eye. "You +have given me no time to tell you. I do know where she went. Sit down +and I will tell you all about it." + +"You will make a long story out of nothing," he exclaimed, impatiently; +"and fooling my time here may cost me a fortune." + +Very reluctantly Mr. Tudor resumed his seat at his wife's earnest +persuasion. + +"Skim lightly over the details, my dear; just give me the main +points," he said. + +Like the good little wife she was, Mrs. Tudor obediently obeyed. + +It was not often the cool, calculating detective allowed himself to +get excited, but as she proceeded he jumped up from his seat, and +paced restlessly up and down the room. He was literally astounded. + +"Rex Lyon's wife," he mused, thoughtfully. "Well, in all the years of +my experience I have never come across anything like this. She has +gone to Whitestone Hall, you say, to stop the marriage?" he +questioned, eagerly. + +"Yes," she replied, "the poor child was almost frantic over it. You +seem greatly agitated, Harvey. Have you some new case connected with +her?" + +"Yes," he answered, grimly. "I think I have two cases." + +Mr. Tudor seldom brought his business perplexities to his fireside. +His little wife knew as little of business matters as the sparrows +twittering on the branches of the trees out in the garden. + +He made up his mind not to mention certain suspicions that had lodged +in his mind until he saw his way clearly out of the complicated +affair. + +He determined it would do no harm to try an experiment, however. +Suiting the action to the thought, he drew out the portrait from his +pocket. + +"I do not think I shall have as much trouble with this affair as I +anticipated." + +Mrs. Tudor came and leaned over his shoulder. + +"Whose picture have you there, Harvey? Why, I declare," she cried, in +amazement, "if it isn't Daisy Brooks!" + +"Mrs. Rex Lyon, you mean," said the detective, with a sly twinkle in +his eye. "But for once in your life you are at sea--and far from +shore; this portrait represents a different person altogether. Come, +come, wife, get me a cup of tea--quick--and a biscuit," he cried, +leading the way to the kitchen, where the savory supper was cooking. +"I haven't time to wait for tea, I must overtake that girl before she +reaches Whitestone Hall." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +The shade of night was wrapping its dusky mantle over the earth as +Daisy, flushed and excited, and trembling in every limb, alighted from +the train at Allendale. + +Whitestone Hall was quite a distance from the station; she had quite a +walk before her. + +Not a breath of air seemed to stir the branches of the trees, and the +inky blackness of the sky presaged the coming storm. + +Since dusk the coppery haze seemed to gather itself together; great +purple masses of clouds piled themselves in the sky; a lurid light +overspread the heavens, and now and then the dense, oppressive silence +was broken by distant peals of thunder, accompanied by great fierce +rain-drops. + +Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, struggling bravely on through +the storm and the darkness, her heart beating so loudly she wondered +it did not break. + +Poor child! how little she knew she was fast approaching the crisis of +her life! + +She remembered, with a little sob, the last time she had traversed +that road--she was seated by John Brooks's side straining her eyes +toward the bend in the road, watching eagerly for the first glimpse of +the magnolia-tree, and the handsome young husband waiting there. + +Coy blushes suffused Daisy's cheeks as she struggled on through the +pouring rain. She forgot she was a wretched, unpitied, forsaken little +bride, on a mission of such great importance. She was only a simple +child, after all, losing sight of all the whole world, as her thoughts +dwelt on the handsome young fellow, her husband in name only, whom she +saw waiting for her at the trysting-place, looking so cool, so +handsome and lovable in his white linen suit and blue tie; his white +straw hat, with the blue-dotted band around it, lying on the green +grass beside him, and the sunshine drifting through the green leaves +on his smiling face and brown, curling hair. + +"If Rex had only known I was innocent, he could not have judged me so +harshly. Oh, my love--my love!" she cried out. "Heaven must have made +us for each other, but a fate more cruel than death has torn us +asunder. Oh, Rex, my love, if you had only been more patient with +me!" + +She crept carefully along the road through the intense darkness and +the down-pouring rain. She knew every inch of the ground. She could +not lose her way. She reached the turn in the road which was but a few +feet distant from the magnolia-tree where first she had met Rex and +where she had seen him last--a few steps more and she would reach it. + +A blinding glare of lightning lighted up the scene for one brief +instant; there was the tree, but, oh! was it only a fancy of her +imagination? she thought she saw a man's figure kneeling under it. + +"Who was he, and what was he doing there?" she wondered. She stood +rooted to the spot. "Perhaps he had taken refuge there from the fury +of the storm." + +Daisy was a shrinking, timid little creature; she dared not move a +step further, although the golden moments that flitted by were as +precious as her life-blood. + +She drew back, faint with fear, among the protecting shadows of the +trees. Another flash of light--the man was surely gathering wild +flowers from the rain-drenched grass. + +"Surely the man must be mad," thought Daisy, with a cold thrill of +horror. + +Her limbs trembled so from sheer fright they refused to bear her +slight weight, and with a shudder of terror she sunk down in the wet +grass, her eyes fixed as one fascinated on the figure under the tree, +watching his every movement, as the lurid lightning illumined the +scene at brief intervals. + +The great bell from the turret of Whitestone Hall pealed the hour of +seven, and in the lightning's flash she saw the man arise from his +knees; in one hand he held a small bunch of flowers, the other was +pressed over his heart. + +Surely there was something strangely familiar in that graceful form; +then he turned his face toward her. + +In that one instantaneous glance she had recognized him--it was Rex, +her husband--as he turned hastily from the spot, hurrying rapidly away +in the direction of Whitestone Hall. + +"Why was Rex there alone on his wedding-night under the magnolia-tree +in the terrible storm?" she asked herself, in a strange, bewildered +way. "What could it mean?" She had heard the ceremony was to be +performed promptly at half past eight, it was seven already. "What +could it mean?" + +She had been too much startled and dismayed when she found it was Rex +to make herself known. Ah, no, Rex must never know she was so near +him; it was Pluma she must see. + +"Why had he come to the magnolia-tree?" she asked herself over and +over again. A moment later she had reached the self-same spot, and was +kneeling beneath the tree, just as Rex had done. She put out her +little white hand to caress the grass upon which her husband had +knelt, but it was not grass which met her touch, but a bed of flowers; +that was strange, too. + +She never remembered flowers to grow on that spot. There was nothing +but the soft carpet of green grass, she remembered. + +One or two beneath her touch were broken from the stem. She knew Rex +must have dropped them, and the poor little soul pressed the flowers +to her lips, murmuring passionate, loving words over them. She did not +know the flowers were daisies; yet they seemed so familiar to the +touch. + +She remembered how she had walked home from the rectory with Rex in +the moonlight, and thought to herself how funny it sounded to hear Rex +call her his wife, in that rich melodious voice of his. Septima had +said it was such a terrible thing to be married. She had found it just +the reverse, as she glanced up into her pretty young husband's face, +as they walked home together; and how well she remembered how Rex had +taken her in his arms at the gate, kissing her rosy, blushing face, +until she cried out for mercy. + +A sudden, blinding flash of lightning lighted up the spot with a lurid +light, and she saw a little white cross, with white daisies growing +around it, and upon the cross, in that one meteoric flash, she read +the words, "Sacred to the memory of Daisy Brooks." + +She did not faint, or cry out, or utter any word. She realized all in +an instant why Rex had been there. Perhaps he felt some remorse for +casting her off so cruelly. If some tender regret for her, whom he +supposed dead, was not stirring in his heart, why was he there, +kneeling before the little cross which bore her name, on his +wedding-night? + +Could it be that he had ever loved her? She held out her arms toward +the blazing lights that shone in the distance from Whitestone Hall, +with a yearning, passionate cry. Surely, hers was the saddest fate +that had ever fallen to the lot of a young girl. + +A great thrill of joy filled her heart, that she was able to prevent +the marriage. + +She arose from her knees and made her way swiftly through the storm +and the darkness, toward the distant cotton fields. She did not wish +to enter the Hall by the main gate; there was a small path, seldom +used, that led to the Hall, which she had often taken from John +Brooks's cottage; that was the one she chose to-night. + +Although the storm raged in all its fury without, the interior of +Whitestone Hall was ablaze with light, that streamed with a bright, +golden glow from every casement. + +Strains of music, mingled with the hum of voices, fell upon Daisy's +ear, as she walked hurriedly up the path. The damp air that swept +across her face with the beating rain was odorous with the perfume of +rare exotics. + +The path up which she walked commanded a full view of Pluma +Hurlhurst's boudoir. + +The crimson satin curtains, for some reason, were still looped back, +and she could see the trim little maid arranging her long dark hair; +she wore a silver-white dressing-robe, bordered around with soft +white swan's-down and her dainty white satin-slippered feet rested on +a crimson velvet hassock. + +"How beautiful she is!" thought the poor little child-wife, wistfully +gazing at her fair, false enemy. "I can not wonder Rex is dazzled by +her peerless, royal beauty. I was mad to indulge the fatal, foolish +dream that he could ever love me, poor, plain little Daisy Brooks." + +Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, and her thick veil more +securely over her face. As she raised the huge brass knocker her heart +beat pitifully, yet she told herself she must be brave to the bitter +end. + +One, two, three minutes passed. Was no one coming to answer the +summons? Yes--some one came at last, a spruce little French maid, whom +Daisy never remembered having seen before. + +She laughed outright when Daisy falteringly stated her errand. + +"You are mad to think mademoiselle will see you to-night," she +answered, contemptuously. "Do you not know this is her wedding-night?" + +"She is not married _yet_?" cried Daisy, in a low, wailing voice. "Oh, +I must see her!" + +With a quizzical expression crossing her face the girl shrugged her +shoulders, as she scanned the little dark, dripping figure, answering +mockingly: + +"The poor make one grand mistake, insisting on what the rich must do. +I say again, my lady will not see you--you had better go about your +business." + +"Oh, I _must_ see her! indeed, I must!" pleaded Daisy. "Your heart, +dear girl, is human, and you can see my anguish is no light one." + +Her courage and high resolve seemed to give way, and she wept--as +women weep only once in a lifetime--but the heart of the French maid +was obdurate. + +"Mademoiselle would only be angry," she said; "it would be as much as +my place is worth to even mention you to her." + +"But my errand can brook no delay," urged Daisy. "You do not realize," +she gasped, brokenly, while her delicate frame was shaken with sobs, +and the hot tears fell like rain down her face. + +"All that you say is useless," cried the girl, impatiently, as she +purposely obstructed the passage-way, holding the doorknob in her +hand; "all your speech is in vain--she will not see you, I say--I will +not take her your message." + +"Then I will go to her myself," cried Daisy, in desperate determination. + +"What's the matter, Marie?" cried a shrill voice from the head of the +rose-lighted stairway; "what in the world keeps you down there so +long? Come here instantly." + +Daisy knew too well the handsome, impatient face and the imperious, +commanding voice. + +"Miss Hurlhurst," she called out, piteously, "I must see you for a few +minutes. I shall die if you refuse me. My errand is one of almost life +and death; if you knew how vitally important it was you would not +refuse me," she panted. + +Pluma Hurlhurst laughed a little hard laugh that had no music in it. + +"What would a hundred lives or deaths matter to me?" she said, +contemptuously. "I would not listen to you ten minutes to-night if I +actually knew it was to save your life," cried the haughty beauty, +stamping her slippered foot impatiently. + +"It is for your own sake," pleaded Daisy. "See, I kneel to you, Miss +Hurlhurst. If you would not commit a crime, I implore you by all you +hold sacred, to hear me--grant me but a few brief moments." + +"Not an instant," cried Pluma, scornfully; "shut the door, Marie, and +send that person from the house." + +"Oh, what shall I do!" cried Daisy, wringing her hands. "I am driven +to the very verge of madness! Heaven pity me--the bitter consequence +must fall upon your own head." + +She turned away with a low, bitter cry, as the maid slammed the heavy +oaken door in her face. + +"There is no other way for me to do," she told herself, despairingly, +"but to see Rex. I do not know how I am going to live through the +ordeal of entering his presence--listening to his voice--knowing I +bring him such a burden of woe--spoiling his life for the second +time." + +She did not hear the door quietly reopen. + +"I have heard all that has just passed, young lady," said a kind voice +close beside her. "I am extremely sorry for you--your case seems a +pitiful one. I am sorry my daughter refused to see you; perhaps I can +be of some assistance to you. I am Miss Hurlhurst's father." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +For a moment Daisy stood irresolute. "Follow me into my study, and +tell me your trouble. You say it concerns my daughter. Perhaps I can +advise you." + +Ah, yes! he above all others could help her--he was Pluma's father--he +could stop the fatal marriage. She would not be obliged to face Rex. + +Without another word Daisy turned and followed him. Although Daisy had +lived the greater portion of her life at John Brooks' cottage on the +Hurlhurst plantation, this was the first time she had ever gazed upon +the face of the recluse master of Whitestone Hall. He had spent those +years abroad; and poor Daisy's banishment dated from the time the lawn +fete had been given in honor of their return. + +Daisy glanced shyly up through her veil with a strange feeling of awe +at the noble face, with the deep lines of suffering around the mouth, +as he opened his study door, and, with a stately inclination of the +head, bade her enter. + +"His face is not like Pluma's," she thought, with a strange flutter at +her heart. "He looks good and kind. I am sure I can trust him." + +Daisy was quite confused as she took the seat he indicated. Mr. +Hurlhurst drew up his arm-chair opposite her, and waited with the +utmost patience for her to commence. + +She arose and stood before him, clasping her trembling little white +hands together supplicatingly. He could not see her face, for she +stood in the shadow, and the room was dimly lighted; but he knew that +the sweet, pathetic voice was like the sound of silvery bells chiming +some half-forgotten strain. + +"I have come to tell you this wedding can not--must not--go on +to-night!" she cried, excitedly. + +Basil Hurlhurst certainly thought the young girl standing before him +must be mad. + +"I do not understand," he said, slowly, yet gently. "Why do you, a +stranger, come to me on my daughter's wedding-night with such words as +these? What reason can you offer why this marriage should not +proceed?" + +He could not tell whether she had heard his words or not, she stood +before him so silent, her little hands working nervously together. She +looked wistfully into his face, and she drew her slender figure up to +its full height, as she replied, in a low, passionate, musical voice: + +"Mr. Lyon can not marry your daughter, sir, for he has a living +wife." + +"Mr. Lyon has a wife?" repeated Basil Hurlhurst, literally dumbfounded +with amazement. "In Heaven's name, explain yourself!" he cried, rising +hastily from his chair and facing her. + +The agitation on his face was almost alarming. His grand old face was +as white as his linen. His eyes were full of eager, painful suspense +and excitement. With a violent effort at self-control he restrained +his emotions, sinking back in his arm-chair like one who had received +an unexpected blow. + +Daisy never remembered in what words she told him the startling truth. +He never interrupted her until she had quite finished. + +"You will not blame Rex," she pleaded, her sweet voice choking with +emotion; "he believes me dead." + +Basil Hurlhurst did not answer; his thoughts were too confused. Yes, +it was but too true--the marriage could not go on. He reached hastily +toward the bell-rope. + +"You will not let my--Rex know until I am far away," she cried, +piteously, as she put her marriage certificate in Mr. Hurlhurst's +hand. + +"I am going to send for Rex to come here at once," he made answer. + +With a low, agonized moan, Daisy grasped his outstretched hand, +scarcely knowing what she did. + +"Oh, please do not, Mr. Hurlhurst," she sobbed. "Rex must not see me; +I should die if you sent for him; I could not bear it--indeed, I could +not." She was looking at him, all her heart in her eyes, and, as if he +felt magnetically the power of her glance, he turned toward her, +meeting the earnest gaze of the blue, uplifted eyes. + +The light fell full upon her fair, flushed face, and the bonnet and +veil she wore had fallen back from the golden head. + +A sudden mist seemed to come before his eyes, and he caught his breath +with a sharp gasp. + +"What did you say your name was before you were married?" he asked, in +a low, intense voice. "I--I--did not quite understand." + +"Daisy Brooks, your overseer's niece," she answered, simply. + +She wondered why he uttered such a dreary sigh as he muttered, half +aloud, how foolish he was to catch at every straw of hope. + +Carefully he examined the certificate. It was too true. It certainly +certified Rexford Lyon and Daisy Brooks were joined together in the +bonds of matrimony nearly a year before. And then he looked at the +paper containing the notice of her tragic death, which Daisy had read +and carefully saved. Surely no blame could be attached to Rex, in the +face of these proofs. + +He was sorry for the beautiful, haughty heiress, to whom this terrible +news would be a great shock; he was sorry for Rex, he had grown so +warmly attached to him of late, but he felt still more sorry for the +fair child-bride, toward whom he felt such a yearning, sympathetic +pity. + +The great bell in the tower slowly pealed the hour of eight, with a +dull, heavy clang, and he suddenly realized what was to be done must +be done at once. + +"I must send for both Rex and Pluma," he said, laying his hands on the +beautiful, bowed head; "but, if it will comfort you to be unobserved +during the interview, you shall have your wish." He motioned her to +one of the curtained recesses, and placed her in an easy-chair. He saw +she was trembling violently. + +It was a hard ordeal for him to go through, but there was no +alternative. + +He touched the bell with a shaking hand, thrusting the certificate and +paper into his desk. + +"Summon my daughter Pluma to me at once," he said to the servant who +answered the summons, "and bid Mr. Lyon come to me here within half an +hour." + +He saw the man held a letter in his hand. + +"If you please, sir," said the man, "as I was coming to answer your +bell I met John Brooks, your overseer, in the hall below. A stranger +was with him, who requested me to give you this without delay." + +Basil Hurlhurst broke open the seal. There were but a few penciled +words, which ran as follows: + + "MR. HURLHURST,--Will you kindly grant me an immediate interview? + I shall detain you but a few moments. + + "Yours, hastily, + "HARVEY TUDOR, + "Of Tudor, Peck & Co, Detectives, Baltimore." + +The man never forgot the cry that came from his master's lips as he +read those brief words. + +"Yes, tell him to come up at once," he cried; "I will see him here." + +He forgot the message he had sent for Pluma and Rex--forgot the +shrinking, timid little figure in the shadowy drapery of the +curtains--even the gay hum of the voices down below, and the strains +of music, or that the fatal marriage moment was drawing near. + +He was wondering if the detective's visit brought him a gleam of hope. +Surely he could have no other object in calling so hurriedly on this +night above all other nights. + +A decanter of wine always sat on the study table. He turned toward it +now with feverish impatience, poured out a full glass with his nervous +fingers, and drained it at a single draught. + +A moment later the detective and John Brooks, looking pale and +considerably excited, were ushered into the study. + +For a single instant the master of Whitestone Hall glanced into the +detective's keen gray eyes for one ray of hope, as he silently grasped +his extended hand. + +"I see we are alone," said Mr. Tudor, glancing hurriedly around the +room--"we three, I mean," he added. + +Suddenly Basil Hurlhurst thought of the young girl, quite hidden from +view. + +"No," he answered, leading the way toward an inner room, separated +from the study by a heavy silken curtain; "but in this apartment we +shall certainly be free from interruption. Your face reveals nothing," +he continued, in an agitated voice, "but I believe you have brought me +news of my child." + +Basil Hurlhurst had no idea the conversation carried on in the small +apartment to which he had conducted them could be overheard from the +curtained recess in which Daisy sat. But he was mistaken; Daisy could +hear every word of it. + +She dared not cry out or walk forth from her place of concealment lest +she should come suddenly face to face with Rex. + +As the light had fallen on John Brooks' honest face, how she had +longed to spring forward with a glad little cry and throw herself into +his strong, sheltering arms! She wondered childishly why he was there +with Mr. Tudor, the detective, whose voice she had instantly +recognized. + +"I have two errands here to-night," said the detective, pleasantly. "I +hope I shall bring good news, in one sense; the other we will discuss +later on." + +The master of Whitestone Hall made no comments; still he wondered why +the detective had used the words "one sense." Surely, he thought, +turning pale, his long-lost child could not be dead. + +Like one in a dream, Daisy heard the detective go carefully over the +ground with Basil Hurlhurst--all the incidents connected with the loss +of his child. Daisy listened out of sheer wonder. She could not tell +why. + +"I think we have the right clew," continued the detective, "but we +have no actual proof to support our supposition; there is one part +still cloudy." + +There were a few low-murmured words spoken to John Brooks. There was a +moment of silence, broken by her uncle John's voice. For several +moments he talked rapidly and earnestly, interrupted now and then by +an exclamation of surprise from the master of Whitestone Hall. + +Every word John Brooks uttered pierced Daisy's heart like an arrow. +She uttered a little, sharp cry, but no one heard her. She fairly held +her breath with intense interest. Then she heard the detective tell +them the story of Rex Lyon's marriage with her, and he had come to +Whitestone Hall to stop the ceremony about to be performed. + +Basil Hurlhurst scarcely heeded his words. He had risen to his feet +with a great, glad cry, and pushed aside the silken curtains that led +to the study. As he did so he came face to face with Daisy Brooks, +standing motionless, like a statue, before him. Then she fell, with a +low, gasping cry, senseless at Basil Hurlhurst's feet. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +Pluma Hurlhurst received her father's summons with no little surprise. +"What can that foolish old man want, I wonder?" she soliloquized, +clasping the diamond-studded bracelets on her perfect arms. "I shall +be heartily glad when I am Rex Lyon's wife. I shall soon tell him, +then, in pretty plain words, I am not at his beck and call any longer. +Come to him instantly, indeed! I shall certainly do no such thing," +she muttered. + +"Did you speak, mademoiselle?" asked the maid. + +"No," replied Pluma, glancing at the little jeweled watch that +glittered in its snow-white velvet case. She took it up with a +caressing movement. "How foolish I was to work myself up into such a +fury of excitement, when Rex sent for me to present me with the +jewels!" she laughed, softly, laying down the watch, and taking up an +exquisite jeweled necklace, admired the purity and beauty of the soft, +white, gleaming stones. + +The turret-bell had pealed the hour of eight; she had yet half an +hour. + +She never could tell what impulse prompted her to clasp the shining +gems around her white throat, even before she had removed her +dressing-robe. + +She leaned back dreamily in her cushioned chair, watching the effect +in the mirror opposite. + +Steadfastly she gazed at the wondrous loveliness of the picture she +made, the dark, lustrous eyes, gleaming with unwonted brilliancy, with +their jetty fringe; the rich, red lips, and glowing cheeks. + +"There are few such faces in the world," she told herself triumphantly. + +Those were the happiest moments proud, peerless Pluma Hurlhurst was +ever to know--"before the hour should wane the fruition of all her +hopes would be attained." + +No feeling of remorse stole over her to imbitter the sweets of her +triumphant thoughts. + +She had lived in a world of her own, planning and scheming, wasting +her youth, her beauty, and her genius, to accomplish the one great +ultimatum--winning Rex Lyon's love. + +She took from her bosom a tiny vial, containing a few white, flaky +crystals. "I shall not need this now," she told herself. "If Lester +Stanwick had intended to interfere he would have done so ere this; he +has left me to myself, realizing his threats were all in vain; yet I +have been sore afraid. Rex will never know that I lied and schemed to +win his love, or that I planned the removal of Daisy Brooks from his +path so cleverly; he will never know that I have deceived him, or the +wretched story of my folly and passionate, perilous love. I could not +have borne the shame and the exposure; there would have been but one +escape"--quite unconsciously she slid the vial into the pocket of her +silken robe--"I have lived a coward's life; I should have died a +coward's death." + +"It is time to commence arranging your toilet, mademoiselle," said the +maid, approaching her softly with the white glimmering satin robe, and +fleecy veil over her arm. "My fingers are deft, but you have not one +moment to spare." + +Pluma waved her off with an imperious gesture. + +"Not yet," she said. "I suppose I might as well go down first as last +to see what in the world he wants with me; he should have come to me +if he had wished to see me so very particularly;" and the dutiful +daughter, throwing the train of her dress carelessly over her arm, +walked swiftly through the brilliantly lighted corridor toward Basil +Hurlhurst's study. She turned the knob and entered. The room was +apparently deserted. "Not here!" she muttered, with surprise. "Well, +my dear, capricious father, I shall go straight back to my apartments. +You shall come to me hereafter." As she turned to retrace her steps a +hand was laid upon her shoulder, and a woman's voice whispered close +to her ear: + +"I was almost afraid I should miss you--fate is kind." + +Pluma Hurlhurst recoiled from the touch, fairly holding her breath, +speechless with fury and astonishment. + +"You insolent creature!" she cried. "I wonder at your boldness in +forcing your presence upon me. Did I not have you thrust from the +house an hour ago, with the full understanding I would not see you, no +matter who you were or whom you wanted." + +"I was not at the door an hour ago," replied the woman, coolly; "it +must have been some one else. I have been here--to Whitestone +Hall--several times before, but you have always eluded me. You shall +not do so to-night. You shall listen to what I have come to say to +you." + +For once in her life the haughty, willful heiress was completely taken +aback, and she sunk into the arm-chair so lately occupied by Basil +Hurlhurst. + +"I shall ring for the servants, and have you thrown from the house; +such impudence is unheard of, you miserable creature!" + +She made a movement toward the bell-rope, but the woman hastily thrust +her back into her seat, crossed over, turned the key in the lock, and +hastily removed it. Basil Hurlhurst and John Brooks were about to rush +to her assistance, but the detective suddenly thrust them back, +holding up his hand warningly. + +"Not yet," he whispered; "we will wait until we know what this strange +affair means. I shall request you both to remain perfectly quiet until +by word or signal I advise you to act differently." + +And, breathless with interest, the three, divided only by the silken +hanging curtains, awaited eagerly further developments of the strange +scene being enacted before them. + +Pluma's eyes flashed like ebony fires, and unrestrained passion was +written on every feature of her face, as the woman took her position +directly in front of her with folded arms, and dark eyes gleaming +quite as strangely as her own. Pluma, through sheer astonishment at +her peculiar, deliberate manner, was hushed into strange expectancy. + +For some moments the woman gazed into her face, coolly--deliberately--her +eyes fastening themselves on the diamond necklace which clasped her +throat, quivering with a thousand gleaming lights. + +"You are well cared for," she said, with a harsh, grating laugh, that +vibrated strangely on the girl's ear. "You have the good things of +life, while I have only the hardships. I am a fool to endure it. I +have come to you to-night to help me--and you must do it." + +"Put the key in that door instantly, or I shall cry out for +assistance. I have heard of insolence of beggars, but certainly this +is beyond all imagination. How dare you force your obnoxious presence +upon me? I will not listen to another word; you shall suffer for this +outrage, woman! Open the door instantly, I say." + +She did not proceed any further in her breathless defiance of retort; +the woman coolly interrupted her with that strange, grating laugh +again, as she answered, authoritatively: + +"I shall not play at cross-purposes with you any longer; it is plainly +evident there is little affection lost between us. You will do exactly +as I say, Pluma; you may spare yourself a great deal that may be +unpleasant--if you not only listen but quietly obey me. Otherwise--" + +Pluma sprung wildly to her feet. + +"Obey you! obey you!" + +She would have screamed the words in her ungovernable rage, had not a +look from this woman's eyes, who used her name with such ill-bred +familiarity, actually frightened her. + +"Be sensible and listen to what I intend you shall hear, and, as I +said and repeat, obey. You have made a slight mistake in defying me, +young lady. I hoped and intended to be your friend and adviser; but +since you have taken it into your head to show such an aversion to me, +it will be so much the worse for you, for I fully intend you shall act +hereafter under my instructions; it has spoiled you allowing you to +hold the reins in your own hands unchecked." + +"Oh, you horrible creature! I shall have you arrested and--" + +The woman interrupted her gasping, vindictive words again, more +imperiously than before. + +"Hush! not another word; you will not tell any one a syllable of what +has passed in this room." + +"Do you dare threaten me in my own house," cried Pluma, fairly beside +herself with passion. "I begin to believe you are not aware to whom +you are speaking. You shall not force me to listen. I shall raise the +window and cry out to the guests below." + +"Very well, then. I find I am compelled to tell you something I never +intended you should know--something that, unless I am greatly mistaken +in my estimate of you, will change your high and mighty notions +altogether." + +The woman was bending so near her, her breath almost scorched her +cheek. + +"I want money," she said, her thin lips quivering in an evil smile, +"and it is but right that you should supply me with it. Look at the +diamonds, representing a fortune, gleaming on your throat, while I am +lacking the necessaries of life." + +"What is that to me?" cried Pluma, scornfully. "Allow me to pass from +the room, and I will send my maid back to you with a twenty-dollar +note. My moments are precious; do not detain me." + +The woman laughed contemptuously. + +"Twenty dollars, indeed!" she sneered, mockingly. "Twenty thousand +will not answer my purpose. From this time forth I intend to live as +befits a lady. I want that necklace you are wearing, as security that +you will produce the required sum for me before to-morrow night." + +The coarse proposal amazed Pluma. + +"I thought Whitestone Hall especially guarded against thieves," she +said, steadily. "You seem to be a desperate woman; but I, Pluma +Hurlhurst, do not fear you. We will pass over the remarks you have +just uttered as simply beyond discussion." + +With a swift, gliding motion she attempted to reach the bell-rope. +Again the woman intercepted her. + +"Arouse the household if you dare!" hissed the woman, tightening her +hold upon the white arm upon which the jewels flashed and quivered. +"If Basil Hurlhurst knew what I know you would be driven from this +house before an hour had passed." + +"I--I--do not know what you mean," gasped Pluma, her great courage and +fortitude sinking before this woman's fearlessness and defiant +authority. + +"No, you don't know what I mean; and little you thank me for carrying +the treacherous secret since almost the hour of your birth. It is time +for you to know the truth at last. You are not the heiress of +Whitestone Hall--you are not Basil Hurlhurst's child!" + +Pluma's face grew deathly white; a strange mist seemed gathering +before her. + +"I can not--seem--to--grasp--what you mean, or who you are to terrify +me so." + +A mocking smile played about the woman's lips as she replied, in a +slow, even, distinct voice: + +"I am your mother, Pluma!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +At the self-same moment that the scene just described was being +enacted in the study Rex Lyon was pacing to and fro in his room, +waiting for the summons of Pluma to join the bridal-party in the +corridor and adjourn to the parlors below, where the guests and the +minister awaited them. + +He walked toward the window and drew aside the heavy curtains. The +storm was beating against the window-pane as he leaned his feverish +face against the cool glass, gazing out into the impenetrable darkness +without. + +Try as he would to feel reconciled to his marriage he could not do it. +How could he promise at the altar to love, honor, and cherish the wife +whom he was about to wed? + +He might honor and cherish her, but love her he could not, no matter +for all the promises he might make. The power of loving was directed +from Heaven above--it was not for mortals to accept or reject at +will. + +His heart seemed to cling with a strange restlessness to Daisy, the +fair little child-bride, whom he had loved so passionately--his first +and only love, sweet little Daisy! + +From the breast-pocket of his coat he took the cluster of daisies he +had gone through the storm on his wedding-night to gather. He was +waiting until the monument should arrive before he could gather +courage to tell Pluma the sorrowful story of his love-dream. + +All at once he remembered the letter a stranger had handed him outside +of the entrance gate. He had not thought much about the matter until +now. Mechanically he picked it up from the mantel, where he had tossed +it upon entering the room, glancing carelessly at the superscription. +His countenance changed when he saw it; his lips trembled, and a hard, +bitter light crept into his brown eyes. He remembered the chirography +but too well. + +"From Stanwick!" he cried, leaning heavily against the mantel. + +Rex read the letter through with a burning flush on his face, which +grew white as with the pallor of death as he read; a dark mist was +before his eyes, the sound of surging waters in his ears. + +"OLD COLLEGE CHUM,"--it began,--"For the sake of those happy hours of +our school-days, you will please favor me by reading what I have +written to the end. + +"If you love Pluma Hurlhurst better than your sense of honor this +letter is of no avail. I can not see you drifting on to ruin without +longing to save you. You have been cleverly caught in the net the +scheming heiress has set for you. It is certainly evident she loves +you with a love which is certainly a perilous one. There is not much +safety in the fierce, passionate love of a desperate, jealous woman. +You will pardon me for believing at one time your heart was elsewhere. +You will wonder why I refer to that; it will surprise you to learn, +that one subject forms the basis of this letter. I refer to little +Daisy Brooks. + +"You remember the night you saw little Daisy home, burning with +indignation at the cut direct--which Pluma had subjected the pretty +little fairy to? I simply recall that fact, as upon that event hangs +the terrible sequel which I free my conscience by unfolding. You had +scarcely left the Hall ere Pluma called me to her side. + +"'Do not leave me, Lester,' she said; 'I want to see you; remain until +after all the guests have left.' + +"I did so. You have read the lines: + + "'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, + Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned'? + +"They were too truly exemplified in the case of Pluma Hurlhurst when +she found you preferred little golden-haired Daisy Brooks to her own +peerless self. 'What shall I do, Lester,' she cried, 'to strike his +heart? What shall I do to humble his mighty pride as he has humbled +mine?' Heaven knows, old boy, I am ashamed to admit the shameful +truth. I rather enjoyed the situation of affairs. 'My love is turned +to hate!' she cried, vehemently. 'I must strike him through his love +for that little pink-and-white baby-faced creature he is so madly +infatuated with. Remove her from his path, Lester,' she cried, 'and I +shall make it worth your while. You asked me once if I would marry +you. I answer _now_: remove that girl from his path, by fair means or +foul, and I give you my hand as the reward, I, the heiress of +Whitestone Hall.' + +"She knew the temptation was dazzling. For long hours we talked the +matter over. She was to furnish money to send the girl to school, from +which I was shortly to abduct her. She little cared what happened the +little fair-haired creature. Before I had time to carry out the design +fate drifted her into my hands. I rescued her, at the risk of my own +life, from a watery grave. I gave out she was my wife, that the affair +might reach your ears, and you would believe the child willfully +eloped with me. I swear to you no impure thought ever crossed that +child's brain. I gave her a very satisfactory explanation as to why I +had started so false a report. In her innocence--it seemed +plausible--she did not contradict my words. + +"Then you came upon the scene, charging her with the report and +demanding to know the truth. + +"At that moment she saw the affair in its true light. Heaven knows she +was as pure as a spotless lily; but appearances were sadly against the +child, simply because she had not contradicted the report that I had +circulated--that she was my wife. Her lips were dumb at the mere +suspicion you hurled against her, and she could not plead with you for +very horror and amazement. + +"When you left her she was stricken with a fever that was said to have +cost her her life. She disappeared from sight, and it was said she had +thrown herself into the pit. + +"I give you this last and final statement in all truth. I was haunted +day and night by her sad, pitiful face; it almost drove me mad with +remorse, and to ease my mind I had the shaft searched a week ago, and +learned the startling fact--it revealed no trace of her ever having +been there. + +"The shaft does not contain the remains of Daisy Brooks, and I +solemnly affirm (although I have no clew to substantiate the belief) +that Daisy Brooks is not dead, but living, and Pluma Hurlhurst's soul +is not dyed with the blood which she would not have hesitated to shed +to remove an innocent rival from her path. I do not hold myself +guiltless, still the planner of a crime is far more guilty than the +tool who does the work in hope of reward. + +"The heiress of Whitestone Hall has played me false, take to your +heart your fair, blushing bride, but remember hers is a perilous +love." + + * * * * * + +The letter contained much more, explaining each incident in detail, +but Rex had caught at one hope, as a drowning man catches at a straw. + +"Merciful Heaven!" he cried, his heart beating loud and fast. "Was it +not a cruel jest to frighten him on his wedding-eve? Daisy alive! Oh, +just Heaven, if it could only be true!" He drew his breath, with a +long, quivering sigh, at the bare possibility. "Little Daisy was as +pure in thought, word and deed as an angel. God pity me!" he cried. +"Have patience with me for my harshness toward my little love. I did +not give my little love even the chance of explaining the situation," +he groaned. Then his thoughts went back to Pluma. + +He could not doubt the truth of the statement Stanwick offered, and +the absolute proofs of its sincerity. He could not curse her for her +horrible deceit, because his mother had loved her so, and it was done +through her blinding, passionate love for him; and he buried his face +in his hands, and wept bitterly. It was all clear as noonday to him +now why Daisy had not kept the tryst under the magnolia-tree, and the +cottage was empty. She must certainly have attempted to make her +escape from the school in which they placed her to come back to his +arms. + +"Oh, dupe that I have been!" he moaned. "Oh, my sweet little innocent +darling!" he cried. "I dare not hope Heaven has spared you to me!" + +Now he understood why he had felt such a terrible aversion to Pluma +all along. She had separated him from his beautiful, golden-haired +child-bride. + +His eyes rested on the certificate which bore Pluma's name, also his +own. He tore it into a thousand shreds. + +"It is all over between us now," he cried. "Even if Daisy were dead, I +could never take the viper to my bosom that has dealt me such a +death-stinging blow. If living, I shall search the world over till I +find her; if dead, I shall consecrate my life to the memory of my +darling, my pure, little, injured _only_ love." + +He heard a low rap at the door. The servant never forgot the young +man's haggard, hopeless face as he delivered Basil Hurlhurst's +message. + +"Ah, it is better so," cried Rex to himself, vehemently, as the man +silently and wonderingly closed the door. "I will go to him at once, +and tell him I shall never marry his daughter. Heaven help me! I will +tell him all." + +Hastily catching up the letter, Rex walked, with a firm, quick tread, +toward the study, in which the strangest tragedy which was ever +enacted was about to transpire. + + * * * * * + +"I am your mother, Pluma," repeated the woman, slowly. "Look into my +face, and you will see every lineament of your own mirrored there. But +for me you would never have enjoyed the luxuries of Whitestone Hall, +and this is the way you repay me! Is there no natural instinct in your +heart that tells you you are standing in your mother's presence?" + +"Every instinct in my heart tells me you are a vile impostor, woman. I +wonder that you dare intimate such a thing. You are certainly an +escaped lunatic. My mother was lost at sea long years ago." + +"So every one believed. But my very presence here is proof positive +such was not the case." + +Pluma tried to speak, but no sound issued from her white lips. The +very tone of the woman's voice carried positive conviction with it. A +dim realization was stealing over her that this woman's face, and the +peculiar tone of her voice, were strangely mixed up with her childhood +dreams; and, try as she would to scoff at the idea, it seemed to be +gaining strength with every moment. + +"You do not believe me, I see," pursued the woman, calmly. "There is +nothing but the stern facts that will satisfy you. You shall have +them. They are soon told: Years ago, when I was young and fair as you +are now, I lived at the home of a quiet, well-to-do spinster, Taiza +Burt. She had a nephew, an honest, well-to-do young fellow, who +worshiped me, much to the chagrin of his aunt; and out of pique one +day I married him. I did not love the honest-hearted fellow, and I +lived with him but a few brief months. I hated him--yes, hated him, +for I had seen another--young, gay and handsome--whom I might have won +had it not been for the chains which bound me. He was a handsome, +debonair college fellow, as rich as he was handsome. This was Basil +Hurlhurst, the planter's only son and heir. Our meeting was romantic. +I had driven over to the village in which the college was situated, on +an errand for Taiza. Basil met me driving through the park. He was +young, reckless and impulsive. He loved me, and the knowledge of his +wealth dazzled me. I did not tell him I was a wife, and there +commenced my first sin. My extreme youth and ignorance of the world +must plead for me--my husband or the world would never know of it. I +listened to his pleading, and married him--that is, we went through +the ceremony. He had perfect faith in its sincerity. I alone knew the +guilty truth. Yet enormous as was my crime, I had but a dim +realization of it. + +"For one brief week I was dazzled with the wealth and jewels he +lavished upon me; but my conscience would not let me rest when I +thought of my honest-hearted husband, from whom I had fled and whom I +had so cruelly deceived. + +"My love for Basil was short lived; I was too reckless to care much +for any one. My conscience bade me fly from him. I gathered up what +money and jewels I could, and fled. A few months after you were born; +and I swear to you, by the proofs I can bring you, beyond all shadow +of a doubt, you were my lawful husband's child, not Basil's. + +"Soon after this event a daring thought came to me. I could present +you, ere long, with myself, at Whitestone Hall. Basil Hurlhurst would +never know the deception practiced upon him; and you, the child of +humble parentage, should enjoy and inherit his vast wealth. My bold +plan was successful. We had a stormy interview, and it never occurred +to him there could be the least deception--that I was not his lawful +wife, or you his child. + +"I found Basil had learned to despise even more fiercely than he had +ever loved me. + +"He took us abroad, refusing to speak or look upon my face, even +though he escorted us. In a fit of desperation I threw myself into the +sea, but I was rescued by another vessel. A strong inclination seized +me to again visit Whitestone Hall and see what disposition he had made +of you. Years had passed; you were then a child of five years. + +"One terrible stormy night--as bad a night as this one--I made my way +to the Hall. It was brilliantly lighted up, just as it is to-night. + +"I saw the gate was locked; and through the flashes of lightning I saw +a little girl sobbing wildly, flung face downward in the grass, +heedless of the storm. + +"I knew you, and called you to me. I questioned you as to why the +house was lighted, and learned the truth. Basil Hurlhurst had +remarried; he had been abroad with his wife, and to-night he was +bringing home his young wife. + +"My rage knew no bounds. I commanded you to bring me the key of the +gate. You obeyed. That night a little golden-haired child was born at +Whitestone Hall, and I knew it would live to divide the honors and +wealth of Whitestone Hall with you--my child. + +"The thought maddened me. I stole the child from its mother's arms, +and fled. I expected to see the papers full of the terrible deed, or +to hear you had betrayed me, a stranger, wanting the key of the +gate." + +"My surprise knew no bounds when I found it was given out the child +had died, and was buried with its young mother. I never understood why +Basil Hurlhurst did not attempt to recover his child. + +"I took the child far from here, placing it in a basket on the river +brink, with a note pinned to it saying that I, the mother, had sinned +and had sought a watery grave beneath the waves. I screened myself, +and watched to see what would become of the child, as I saw a man's +form approaching in the distance. + +"I fairly caught my breath as he drew near. I saw it was my own +husband, whom I had so cruelly deserted years ago--your father, Pluma, +who never even knew or dreamed of your existence. + +"Carefully he lifted the basket and the sleeping babe. How he came in +that locality I do not know. I found, by some strange freak of fate, +he had taken the child home to his aunt Taiza, and there the little +one remained until the spinster died. + +"Again, a few years later, I determined to visit Whitestone Hall, when +a startling and unexpected surprise presented itself. Since then I +have believed in fate. All unconscious of the strange manner in which +these two men's lives had crossed each other, I found Basil Hurlhurst +had engaged my own husband, and your father, John Brooks, for his +overseer." + +Pluma gave a terrible cry, but the woman did not heed her. + +"I dared not betray my identity then, but fled quickly from Whitestone +Hall; for I knew, if all came to light, it would be proved without a +doubt you were not the heiress of Whitestone Hall. + +"I saw a young girl, blue-eyed and golden-haired, singing like a lark +in the fields. One glance at her face, and I knew she was Basil +Hurlhurst's stolen child fate had brought directly to her father's +home. I questioned her, and she answered she had lived with Taiza +Burt, but her name was Daisy Brooks." + +"It is a lie--a base, ingenious lie!" shrieked Pluma. "Daisy Brooks +the heiress of Whitestone Hall! Even if it were true," she cried, +exultingly, "she will never reign here, the mistress of Whitestone +Hall. She is dead." + +"Not exactly!" cried a ringing voice from the rear; and before the two +women could comprehend the situation, the detective sprung through the +silken curtains, placing his back firmly against the door. "You have +laid a deep scheme, with a cruel vengeance; but your own weapons are +turned against you. Bring your daughter forward, Mr. Hurlhurst. Your +presence is also needed, Mr. Brooks," he called. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +Not a muscle of Pluma Hurlhurst's face quivered, but the woman uttered +a low cry, shrinking close to her side. + +"Save me, Pluma!" she gasped. "I did it for your sake!" + +Basil Hurlhurst slowly put back the curtain, and stepped into the +room, clasping his long-lost daughter to his breast. Daisy's arms were +clinging round his neck, and her golden head rested on his shoulder. +She was sobbing hysterically, John Brooks, deeply affected, following +after. + +Like a stag at bay, the woman's courage seemed to return to her, as +she stood face to face after all those years with the husband whom she +had so cruelly deceived--and the proud-faced man who stood beside +him--whose life she had blighted with the keenest and most cruel blow +of all. + +Basil Hurlhurst was the first to break the ominous silence. + +"It is unnecessary to tell you we have heard all," he said, slowly. "I +shall not seek redress for your double crime. Leave this locality at +once, or I may repent the leniency of my decision. I hold you +guiltless, Pluma," he added, gently. "You are not my child, yet I have +not been wanting in kindness toward you. I shall make every provision +for your future comfort with your father," he said, indicating John +Brooks, who stood pale and trembling at his side. + +"Pluma, my child," cried John Brooks, brokenly, extending his arms. + +But the scornful laugh that fell from her lips froze the blood in his +veins. + +"Your child!" she shrieked, mockingly; "do not dare call me that +again. What care I for your cotton fields, or for Whitestone Hall?" +she cried, proudly, drawing herself up to her full height. "You have +always hated me, Basil Hurlhurst," she cried, turning haughtily toward +him. "This is your triumph! Within the next hour I shall be Rex Lyon's +wife." + +She repeated the words with a clear, ringing laugh, her flaming eyes +fairly scorching poor little Daisy's pale, frightened face. + +"Do you hear me, Daisy Brooks!" she screamed. "You loved Rex Lyon, and +I have won him from you. You can queen it over Whitestone Hall, but I +shall not care. I shall be queen of Rex's heart and home! Mine is a +glorious revenge!" + +She stopped short for want of breath, and Basil Hurlhurst interrupted +her. + +"I have to inform you you are quite mistaken there," he replied, +calmly. "Mr. Rexford Lyon will not marry you to-night, for he is +already married to my little daughter Daisy." He produced the +certificate as he spoke, laying it on the table. "Rex thought her +dead," he continued, simply. "I have sent for him to break the +startling news of Daisy's presence, and I expect him here every +moment." + +"Pluma," cried Daisy, unclasping her arms from her father's neck, and +swiftly crossing over to where her rival stood, beautifully, proudly +defiant, "forgive me for the pain I have caused you unknowingly. I did +not dream I was--an--an--heiress--or that Mr. Hurlhurst was my father. +I don't want you to go away, Pluma, from the luxury that has been +yours; stay and be my sister--share my home." + +"My little tender-hearted angel!" cried Basil Hurlhurst, moved to +tears. + +John Brooks hid his face in his hands. + +For a single instant the eyes of these two girls met--whose lives had +crossed each other so strangely--Daisy's blue eyes soft, tender and +appealing, Pluma's hard, flashing, bitter and scornful. + +She drew herself up to her full height. + +"Remain in your house?" she cried, haughtily, trembling with rage. +"You mistake me, girl: do you think I could see you enjoying the home +that I have believed to be mine--see the man I love better than life +itself lavish caresses upon you--kiss your lips--and bear it calmly? +Live the life of a pauper when I have been led to believe I was an +heiress! Better had I never known wealth than be cast from luxury into +the slums of poverty," she wailed out, sharply. "I shall not touch a +dollar of your money, Basil Hurlhurst. I despise you too much. I have +lived with the trappings of wealth around me--the petted child of +luxury--all in vain--all in vain." + +Basil Hurlhurst was struck with the terrible grandeur of the picture +she made, standing there in her magnificent, scornful pride--a wealth +of jewels flashing on her throat and breast and twined in the long, +sweeping hair that had become loosened and swept in a dark, shining +mass to her slender waist, her flashing eyes far outshining the jewels +upon which the softened gas-light streamed. Not one gleam of remorse +softened her stony face in its cruel, wicked beauty. Her jeweled hand +suddenly crept to the pocket of her dress where she had placed the +vial. + +"Open that door!" she commanded. + +The key fell from her mother's nerveless grasp. The detective quietly +picked it up, placed it in the lock, and opened the door. And just at +that instant, Rex Lyon, with the letter in his hand, reached it. + +Pluma saw him first. + +"Rex!" she cried, in a low, hoarse voice, staggering toward him; but +he recoiled from her, and she saw Stanwick's letter in his hands; and +she knew in an instant all her treachery was revealed; and without +another word--pale as death--but with head proudly erect, she swept +with the dignity of a princess from the scene of her bitter defeat, +closely followed by her cowering mother. + +Rex did not seek to detain her; his eyes had suddenly fallen upon the +golden-haired little figure kneeling by Basil Hurlhurst's chair. + +He reached her side at a single bound. + +"Oh, Daisy, my darling, my darling!" he cried, snatching her in his +arms, and straining her to his breast, as he murmured passionate, +endearing words over her. + +Suddenly he turned to Mr. Hurlhurst. + +"I must explain--" + +"That is quite unnecessary, Rex, my boy," said Mr. Tudor, stepping +forward with tears in his eyes; "Mr. Hurlhurst knows all." + +It never occurred to handsome, impulsive Rex to question what Daisy +was doing there. He only knew Heaven had restored him his beautiful, +idolized child-bride. + +"You will forgive my harshness, won't you, love?" he pleaded. "I will +devote my whole life to blot out the past. Can you learn to love me, +sweetheart, and forget the cloud that drifted between us?" + +A rosy flush suffused the beautiful flower-like face, as Daisy shyly +lifted her radiantly love-lighted blue eyes to his face with a coy +glance that fairly took his breath away for rapturous ecstasy. + +Daisy's golden head nestled closer on his breast, and two little soft, +white arms, whose touch thrilled him through and through, stole round +his neck--that was all the answer she made him. + +John Brooks had quietly withdrawn from the room; and while Basil +Hurlhurst with a proudly glowing face went down among the waiting and +expectant guests to unfold to them the marvelous story, and explain +why the marriage could not take place, the detective briefly +acquainted Rex with the wonderful story. + +"I sought and won you when you were simple little Daisy Brooks, and +now that you are a wealthy heiress in your own right, you must not +love me less." + +Daisy glanced up into her handsome young husband's face as she +whispered, softly: + +"Nothing can ever change my love, Rex, unless it is to love you more +and more." + +And for answer Rex clasped the little fairy still closer in his arms, +kissing the rosy mouth over and over again, as he laughingly replied +he was more fortunate than most fellows, being lover and husband all +in one. + +The announcement created an intense _furor_ among the fluttering +maidens down in the spacious parlors. Nobody regretted Pluma's +downfall, although Basil Hurlhurst carefully kept that part of the +narrative back. + +"Oh, it is just like a romance," cried Eve Glenn, rapturously; "but +still we must not be disappointed, girls; we must have a wedding all +the same. Rex and Daisy must be married over again." + +Every one was on the tiptoe of expectancy to see the beautiful little +heroine of a double romance. + +Eve Glenn, followed by Birdie, found her out at once in the study. + +"Oh, you darling!" cried Eve, laughing and crying in one breath, as +she hugged and kissed Daisy rapturously; "and just to think you were +married all the time, and to Rex, too; above all other fellows in the +world, he was just the one I had picked out for you." + +Rex was loath to let Daisy leave him even for a moment. Eve was firm. + +"I shall take her to my room and convert her in no time at all into a +veritable Cinderella." + +"She is the pretty young girl that carried me from the stone wall, and +I have loved her so much ever since, even if I couldn't remember her +name," cried Birdie, clapping her hands in the greatest glee. + +In the din of the excitement, Pluma Hurlhurst shook the dust of +Whitestone Hall forever from her feet, muttering maledictions at the +happy occupants. She had taken good care to secure all the valuables +that she could lay her hands on, which were quite a fortune in +themselves, securing her from want for life. She was never heard from +more. + + * * * * * + +Eve Glenn took Daisy to her own room, and there the wonderful +transformation began. She dressed Daisy in her own white satin dress, +and twined deep crimson passion-roses in the golden curls, clapping +her hands--at Daisy's wondrous beauty--kissing her, and petting her by +turns. + +"There never was such a little fairy of a bride!" she cried, +exultantly leading Daisy to the mirror. "True, you haven't any +diamonds, and I haven't any to loan you; but who would miss such +trifles, gazing at such a bewitching, blushing face and eyes bright as +stars? Oh, won't every one envy Rex, though!" + +"Please don't, Eve," cried Daisy. "I'm so happy, and you are trying to +make me vain." + +A few moments later there was a great hush in the vast parlors below, +as Daisy entered the room, leaning tremblingly on Rex's arm, who +looked as happy as a king, and Basil Hurlhurst, looking fully ten +years younger than was his wont, walking proudly beside his long-lost +daughter. + +The storm had died away, and the moon broke through the dark clouds, +lighting the earth with a silvery radiance, as Rex and Daisy took +their places before the altar, where the ceremony which made them man +and wife was for the second time performed. + +Heaven's light never fell on two such supremely happy mortals as were +Rex and his bonny blushing bride. + +Outside of Whitestone Hall a motley throng was gathering with the +rapidity of lightning--the story had gone from lip to lip--the +wonderful story of the long-lost heiress and the double romance. + +Cheer after cheer rent the air, and telegraph wires were busy with the +startling revelations. + +The throng around the Hall pressed forward to catch a glimpse of the +pretty little bride. Young girls laughed and cried for very joy. +Mothers, fathers, and sweethearts fervently cried: "God bless her!" + +All night long the bells rang from the church belfries, bonfires were +lighted on all the surrounding hills. A telegram was sent to a +Baltimore marble firm countermanding a certain order. + +All night long the young people danced to the chime of merry music, +and all night long the joy-bells pealed from the turrets of Whitestone +Hall, and they seemed to echo the chorus of the people. "God bless +sweet little Daisy Lyon, the long-lost heiress of Whitestone Hall!" + +THE END + + + + +LAURA JEAN LIBBEY'S BOOKS + +BOUND IN CLOTH. + +If you like to read fascinating love stories we are sure you will want +to read this popular author's writings, and call your special attention +to the following list of her best books. + +THE ALPHABET OF LOVE.--A thrilling romance portraying the strange +adventures of a beautiful young girl. + +A BEAUTIFUL COQUETTE.--Sought by many but finally won by a strong, +masterful love. + +THE CRIME OF HALLOW E'EN.--Surrounded with the mysticism of that +occasion, relating the adventures of the Heiress of Graystone Hall. + +DAISY BROOKS.--The story of a perilous love. + +DAISY GORDON'S FOLLY.--The world lost for love's sake. Concealment of +her love affairs wrought great havoc. + +DORA MILLER.--"There's nothing half so sweet in life as love's young +dream." + +FLIRTATIONS OF A BEAUTY.--A fascinating story of a lovely belle's summer +romance at Newport. + +A FORBIDDEN MARRIAGE.--And what followed a mother's statement to her +daughter's lover: "I would rather see my daughter dead than give her to +you." + +GILBERTA THE BEAUTY.--A romance of a girls' fashionable boarding-school. + +HE LOVED, BUT WAS LURED AWAY.--In love and war the _occasion_ is +everything, but when true love enters the heart it conquers. + +JUNIE'S LOVE TEST.--Sorely tried and deceived by circumstances, even to +the extent of divorce proceedings, intense and whole-hearted love is +finally rewarded. + +LITTLE LEAFY.--The cloakmaker's beautiful daughter. A romantic story of +a lovely working girl in the City of New York. + +LITTLE ROSEBUD'S LOVERS.--A South Carolina story of a cruel revenge. + +The above books contain 200 to 300 pages each, printed on best grade +antique wove book paper, with beautiful lithograph inlay in 10 colors, +and will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price 50 cents, or +any 3 books for $1.00. Ask your dealer for them, or send your order +direct to us. + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +57 Rose Street, New York. + + + + +LAURA JEAN LIBBEY'S BOOKS + +BOUND IN CLOTH + +If you like to read fascinating love stories we are sure you will want +to read this popular author's writings, and call your special attention +to the following list of her best books. + +LITTLE ROMP EDDA.--A story of the great World's Fair at Chicago, and +what befell a mischievous maid. + +LYNDALL'S TEMPTATION; Or, Blinded by Love.--A story of fashionable +life at Lenox. To Love and Be Loved is the Grand Dream of Life.--The +Hand of Fate.--What Might Have Been.--I Must Forget You, Dear.--The +Tragedy.--Who is Guilty? Do You Regret the Past? + +A MASTER WORKMAN'S OATH; Or, Coralie the Unfortunate.--A love story +portraying the life, romance and strange fate of a beautiful New York +working girl. Love at First Sight.--A Marriage In Haste.--To Learn to +Forget Will Be Bitter.--The Abduction.--Fate Marks Her Destiny.--The +Rival Lovers. + +MISS MIDDLETON'S LOVER; Or, Parted on Her Bridal Tour. A story of +London. The Banker's Niece.--It Would Have Been Better Had She +Died.--A Convict's Bride.--Fate Settles the Matter.--The Serpent +Enters the Garden of Eden.--The Price of My Lady's Secret.--A Great +Temptation.--I Would Not Forgive Her.--Without Love the World is a +Desert. + +PRETTY FREDA'S LOVERS; Or, Married by Mistake.--A thrilling romance of +a beautiful young school girl. The Spoiled Darling.--Mad Folly.--My +Promised Bride.--Freda's Fate.--The Quarrel.--The Smoke of +Scandal.--The Elopement.--Forgotten.--Humbled.--Freda's Test and +Flight.--Learned to Love Me at Last. + +WHEN HIS LOVE GREW COLD.--A love story full of trials and struggles of +lover and loved one. + +WILLFUL GAYNELL.--A romantic story of the life and love of a lovely +working girl. A Rescue.--The Grand Ball.--The Duel.--The Heiress.--An +Abduction.--Defiance.--A Thrilling Adventure.--Vengeance.--Temptation.-- +Gay Decides Her Fate.--The Rivals Meet.--Would You Break Our Betrothal?-- +Gay Found at Last. + +The above books contain 200 to 300 pages each, printed on best grade +antique wove book paper, with beautiful lithograph inlay in 10 colors, +and will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price 50 cents, or +any 3 books for $1.00. Ask your dealer for them, or send your order +direct to us. + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +57 Rose Street, New York. + + + + +THE BIG NOISE! 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Better Than Vaudeville! + +A WHOLE CIRCUS IN ITSELF! + +The Time, the Place, the Opportunity is Here! + +BUY IT NOW! + +THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN contains 170 solid pages of reading +matter, illustrated, is bound in heavy lithographed paper covers, and +will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of price, 25 +cents. Address orders to + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +P.O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. + + + + +THE MODEL LETTER WRITER. + +A comprehensive and complete guide and assistant for those who wish to +become perfect correspondents. This book contains Sample Letters of +Compliment, Inquiry, and Congratulation; Letters of Recommendation, +Letters of Business, Advice and Excuse, and gives Rules for +Punctuation, Postscripts, and Styles of Addressing, etc. + +It also contains love letters, giving the correspondence between a +young man and a young lady, on love, courtship and marriage, and +should prove indispensable to all young people. + +You cannot afford to be without this book, as you do not know at what +time you may have to write a particularly important letter. If you +have a book of this kind on hand to consult, it may be the means of +bringing to a successful end matters of great moment, and upon which +may depend your entire future happiness, well-being, and success in +life. + +The book contains 128 pages, is bound in paper covers with handsome +illustration in two colors, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any +address upon receipt of 25 cents in U.S. stamps or postal money order. +Address all orders to + +J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +P.O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. + + + + +LAUGH! YELL! SCREAM! + +Read It! Read It! 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The BAD +BOY'S DIARY is making the whole world scream with laughter. Get in +line and laugh too. BUY IT TO-DAY! It contains 276 solid pages of +reading matter, illustrated, is bound in lithographed paper covers, +and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of +price, 25 cents. Address all orders to + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +P.O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. + + + + +THE HOUSEWIFE'S TREASURE! + +THE HOME-KEEPER'S DELIGHT! + +PEERLESS! UNEQUALLED! + +THE EVERYDAY COOK BOOK + +saves money, saves labor. Makes cooking pleasurable, easy and +delightful. Without previous experience or instruction, by the aid of +this magic volume, the busy housewife can quickly learn to make +hundreds of savory, appetizing, nourishing dishes, plain or fancy, +dainty or substantial. + +Easy! Practical! Economical! 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Also +contains scores of immensely valuable household hints and information +on every subject of interest to the cook, housewife and home-keeper. + +A Cook Book and Home Encyclopedia All in One! + +Invaluable for the Kitchen! Unequalled for the Home! + +You Want it! You Cannot do Without It! Buy It Now! + +The book contains 200 pages, size 7x5 inches, is bound in heavy paper +cover, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of only 25 +cents in stamps or silver. + +J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, + +P.O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK + + + + +TWO HUNDRED OLD-TIME SONGS. + +This volume contains the _words and music_ of choicest gems of +the old and familiar songs we used to sing when we were young. It has +been arranged with great care and we have no hesitation in saying that +it is the best book of the kind published. Read the following +Partial Table of Contents. The book contains 130 songs besides +the ones mentioned here and would cost $50 in sheet music form. + + Annie Laurie. + Auld Lang Syne. + Angel's Whisper, The. + Black Eyed Susan. + Billy Boy. + Baby Mine. + Bell Brandon. + Bonnie Dundee. + Ben Bolt. + Bingen on the Rhine. + Comrades. + Comin' Thro' the Rye. + Caller Herrin'. + Do They Miss Me at Home? + Don't You Go, Tommy. + Flee as a Bird. + In the Gloaming. + John Anderson, My Joe. + Katie's Letter. + Little Annie Rooney. + Larboard Watch. + Life on the Ocean Wave, A. + Low Backed Car, The. + Mollie, Put the Kettle On. + Meet Me by Moonlight. + Nancy Lee. + O, Boys Carry Me 'Long. + Oh! Susannah. + Our Flag is There. + O Had I Wings Like a Dove. + Old Oaken Bucket, The. + O Come, Come Away. + Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep. + Rock Me to Sleep, Mother. + Sparkling and Bright. + There was an Old Woman. + 'Tis the Last Rose of Summer. + Willie, We Have Missed You. + Wait for the Wagon. + Oh Dear! What Can the Matter be. + Oh Why do you Tease Me. + Oh, Would I Were a Bird. + Oh, Would I Were a Boy Again. + Over the Garden Wall. + Pilgrim Fathers, The. + Pat Malloy. + Pauper's Drive, The. + Paddle Your Own Canoe. + Robin Adair. + Robinson Crusoe. + Rose of Allandale. + Star Spangled Banner, The. + Saint Patrick Was a Gentleman. + See Saw, Margery Daw. + Sing a Song of Sixpence. + See, the Conquering Hero Comes. + Stop Dat Knockin'. + Sally in Our Alley. + Scots, What Ha'e Wi' Wallace Bled. + Sword of Bunker Hill, The. + Spider and the Fly, The. + Shells of Ocean. + Steal Away. + Take Back the Heart. + Three Fishers Went Sailing. + Ten Little Niggers. + 'Tis the Last Rose of Summer. + Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-De-Ay. + Thou Art Gone From My Gaze. + There is a Green Hill far Away. + There was a Jolly Miller. + +This book of 176 pages containing the above entire list of songs and +many others, _words and music_, will be sent by mail postpaid upon +receipt of price. Paper Cover, 25 cents. Address all orders to + +J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING CO., 57 Rose Street, New York. + + + + +OLD WITCHES' DREAM BOOK + +AND + +COMPLETE FORTUNE TELLER. + +You dream like everyone else does, but can you interpret them--do you +understand what your dream portends? If you wish to know what it +means, you should buy this book, which contains the full and correct +interpretation of all dreams and their lucky numbers. 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