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 aclose; the heat during the day had been almost intolerable under therays of the piercing sun, and the night was coming on in sullensultriness. No breath of cooling air stirred the leafy branches of thetrees; the stillness was broken only by the chirping of the crickets, and the fire-flies twinkled for a moment, and were then lost to sightin the long grasses. 

On one of the most prosperous plantations in that section of thecountry there was a great stir of excitement; the master, BasilHurlhurst, was momentarily expected home with his bride. The negroesin their best attire were scattered in anxious groups here and there, watching eagerly for the first approach of their master's carriage onthe white pebbled road. 

The curtains of Whitestone Hall were looped back, and a cheerful floodof light shone out on the waving cotton fields that stretched out asfar as the eye could reach, like a field of snow. The last touches hadbeen given to the pillars of roses that filled every available nookand corner, making the summer air redolent with their odorousperfumes. Mrs. Corliss, who had maintained the position of housekeeperfor a score of years or more, stood at the window twisting thetelegram she held in her hand with ill-concealed impatience. Theannouncement of this home-coming had been as unexpected as the news ofhis marriage had been quite a year before. 

"Let there be no guests assembled--my reasons will be made apparent toyou later on, " so read the telegram, which puzzled the housekeepermore than she cared to admit to the inquisitive maid, who stood nearher, 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-dropssplashed against the window-pane. 

Both stood gazing intently out into the darkness. The storm had nowcommenced in earnest. The great trees bent to and fro like reedsbefore the wind; the lightning flashed, and the terrific crash ofroaring thunder mingled with the torrent of rain that beat furiouslyagainst the casement. It seemed as if the very flood-gates of heavenwere 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-comingthe sunlight falls, " muttered Mrs. Corliss under her breath. 

Hagar had caught the low-spoken words, and in a voice that soundedstrange and weird like a warning, she answered:

"Yes, and unhappy is the bride upon whose home-coming rain-dropsfall. "

How little they knew, as they stood there, of the terrible tragedy--thecruelest ever enacted--those grim, silent walls of Whitestone Hallwere soon to witness, in fulfillment of the strange prophecy. Hagar, the maid, had scarcely ceased speaking ere the door was flung violentlyopen, and a child of some five summers rushed into the room, her facelivid with passion, and her dark, gleaming eyes shining like banefulstars, before which the two women involuntarily quailed. 

"What is this I hear?" she cried, with wild energy, glancing fiercelyfrom the one to the other. "Is it true what they tell me--my father isbringing home his bride?"

"Pluma, my child, " remonstrated Mrs. Corliss, feebly, "I--"

"Don't Pluma me!" retorted the child, clutching the deep crimsonpassion-roses from a vase at her side, and trampling them ruthlesslybeneath 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 herdarkly beautiful, willful face toward her with an imperious gesture. 

"Do not come a step nearer, " cried the child, bitterly, "or I shallfling myself from the window down on to the rocks below. I shall neverwelcome 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. Nopower, save God, could stay the turbulent current of the ungovernableself-will which would drag her on to her doom. No human being couldhold in subjection the fierce, untamed will of the beautiful, youthfultyrant. 

There had been strange rumors of the unhappiness of Basil Hurlhurst'sformer marriage. No one remembered having seen her but once, quitefive years before. A beautiful woman with a little babe had suddenlyappeared at Whitestone Hall, announcing herself as Basil Hurlhurst'swife. There had been a fierce, stormy interview, and on that verynight Basil Hurlhurst took his wife and child abroad; those who hadonce seen the dark, glorious, scornful beauty of the woman's facenever forgot it. Two years later the master had returned alone withthe little child, heavily draped in widower's weeds. 

The master of Whitestone Hall was young; those who knew his story werenot surprised that he should marry--he could not go through lifealone; still they felt a nameless pity for the young wife who was tobe 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 tellon which side the scales of mercy and justice would be balanced. 

At that instant, through the raging of the fierce elements, the soundof carriage wheels smote upon their ears as the vehicle dashed rapidlyup the long avenue to the porch; while, in another instant, the youngmaster, half carrying the slight, delicate figure that clung timidlyto his arm, hurriedly entered the spacious parlor. There was a shortconsultation with the housekeeper, and Basil Hurlhurst, tenderlylifting the slight burden in his strong, powerful arms, quickly borehis wife to the beautiful apartments that had been prepared for her. 

In the excitement of the moment Pluma was quite forgotten; for aninstant only she glanced bitterly at the sweet, fair face restingagainst her father's shoulder, framed in a mass of golden hair. Thechild clinched her small hands until she almost cried aloud with theintense pain, never once deigning a glance at her father's face. Inthat one instant the evil seeds of a lifetime were sown strong as lifeand more bitter than death. 

Turning hastily aside she sprung hurriedly down the long corridor, andout into the darkness and the storm, never stopping to gain breathuntil she had quite reached the huge ponderous gate that shut in thegarden from the dense thicket that skirted the southern portion of theplantation. She laughed a hard, mocking laugh that sounded unnaturalfrom such childish lips, as she saw a white hand hurriedly loop backthe silken curtains of her father's window, and saw him bend tenderlyover the golden-haired figure in the arm-chair. Suddenly the sound ofher own name fell upon her ear. 

"Pluma, " whispered a low, cautious voice; and in the quick flashes oflightning she saw a white, haggard woman's face pressed close againstthe grating, and two white hands were steadily forcing the rusty lock. There was no fear in the fiery, rebellious heart of the dauntlesschild. 

"Go away, you miserable beggar-woman, " she cried, "or I shall set thehounds 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 abovethe 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 strangelylike the mysterious woman's own, standing vividly out against thecrimson lightning flashes, her dark curls blown about the gypsy-likeface, 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 throbbedthrough the child's pulses like leaping fire--a strange, mysteriousinfluence that bound her, heart and soul, like the mesmeric influencea serpent exerts over a fascinated dove. Slowly, hesitatingly, thischild, whose fiery will had never bowed before human power, cametimidly forward, step by step, close to the iron gate against whichthe woman's face was pressed. She stretched out her hand, and itrested for a moment on the child's dark curls. 

"Pluma, the gate is locked, " she said. "Do you know where the keysare?"

"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 andquietly, and bring me the longest and thinnest one. You are not tobreathe 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 isthe 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 himbending 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-hairedyoung girl-wife's head resting against Basil Hurlhurst's breast, hisarms clasped lovingly about her?

"Go, Pluma!" she commanded, bitterly. 

Quickly and cautiously the child sped on her fatal errand through thestorm and the darkness. A moment later she had returned with the keywhich was to unlock a world of misery to so many lives. 

"Promise me, Pluma, heiress of Whitestone Hall, never to tell what youhave done or seen or heard to-night. You must never dare breathe itwhile you live. Say you will never tell, Pluma. "

"No, " cried the child, "I shall never tell. They might kill me, but Iwould never tell them. "

The next moment she was alone. Stunned and bewildered, she turned herface slowly toward the house. The storm did not abate in its fury;night-birds flapped their wings through the storm overhead; owlsshrieked in the distance from the swaying tree-tops; yet the childwalked slowly home, knowing no fear. In the house lights were movingto and fro, while servants, with bated breath and light footfalls, hurried through the long corridors toward her father's room. No oneseemed to notice Pluma, in her dripping robe, creeping slowly along bytheir side toward her own little chamber. 

It was quite midnight when her father sent for her. Pluma suffered himto 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 isyour sister, dear. Pluma must love her new mamma and sister for papa'ssake. "

The dark frown on the child's face never relaxed, and, with animpatient gesture, her father ordered her taken at once from theroom. 

Suddenly the great bells of Whitestone Hall ceased pealing for thejoyous birth of Basil Hurlhurst's daughter, and bitter cries of astrong man in mortal anguish rent the air. No one had noticed how orwhen the sweet, golden-haired young wife had died. With a smile on herlips, she was dead, with her tiny little darling pressed close to herpulseless heart. 

But sorrow even as pitiful as death but rarely travels singly. DearHeaven! how could they tell the broken-hearted man, who wept in suchagony beside the wife he had loved so well, of another mighty sorrowthat had fallen upon him? Who was there that could break the news tohim? The tiny, fair-haired infant had been stolen from their midst. They would have thanked God if it had been lying cold in death uponits mother's bosom. 

Slowly throughout the long night--that terrible night that was neverto be forgotten--the solemn bells pealed forth from the turrets ofWhitestone Hall, echoing in their sound: "Unhappy is the bride therain falls on. " Most truly had been the fulfillment of the fearfulprophecy!

"Merciful God!" cried Mrs. Corliss, "how shall I break the news to mymaster? The sweet little babe is gone!"

For answer Hagar bent quickly over her, and breathed a few words inher 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 Hurlhurstawoke to consciousness from the ravages of brain-fever--awoke to a lifenot worth the living. Quickly Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, wassent 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 wereirrevocably sown. 

CHAPTER II. 

One bright May morning some sixteen years later, the golden sunshinewas just putting forth its first crimson rays, lighting up theivy-grown turrets of Whitestone Hall, and shining upon a little whitecottage 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--theplantation being placed in charge of a careful overseer. Once againWhitestone Hall was thrown open to welcome the master, BasilHurlhurst, who had returned from abroad, bringing with him hisbeautiful 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 weregoing to the fields, and the dairy-maids were beginning their work. 

In the door-way of the cottage stood a tall, angular woman, shadingher 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 noDaisy came. "Here's a pretty go, " she cried, turning into the roomwhere her brother sat calmly finishing his morning meal, "a pretty go, indeed! I promised Miss Pluma those white mulls should be sent over toher 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 heridleness. "

"Don't be too hard on little Daisy, Septima, " answered John Brooks, timidly, reaching for his hat. "She will have the dresses at the Hallin 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 wasa sorry day for _me_ when your aunt Taiza died, leaving this girl toour care. "

A deep flush mantled John Brooks' face, but he made no retort, whileSeptima energetically piled the white fluted laces in the hugebasket--piled it full to the brim, until her arm ached with the weightof it--the basket which was to play such a fatal part in the truantDaisy's life--the life which for sixteen short years had been somonotonous. 

Over the corn-fields half hid by the clover came a young girl trippinglightly along. John Brooks paused in the path as he caught sight ofher. "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 wonderthe man's heart softened as he gazed. He saw a glitter of goldencurls, and the scarlet gleam of a mantle--a young girl, tall andslender, with rounded, supple limbs, and a figure graceful in everyline and curve--while her arms, bare to the elbow, would have charmeda sculptor. Cheek and lips were a glowing rosy red--while her eyes, ofthe deepest and darkest blue, were the merriest that ever gazed up tothe summer sunshine. 

Suddenly from over the trees there came the sound of the great bell atthe Hall. Daisy stood quite still in alarm. 

"It is five o'clock!" she cried. "What shall I do? Aunt Septima willbe so angry with me; she promised Miss Pluma her white dresses shouldbe at the Hall by five, and it is that already. "

Poor little Daisy! no wonder her heart throbbed painfully and the lookof fear deepened in her blue eyes as she sped rapidly up the path thatled to the little cottage where Septima grimly awaited her withflushed face and flashing eyes. 

"So, " she said, harshly, "you are come at last, are you? and a prettyfright you have given me. You shall answer to Miss Pluma _herself_ forthis. I dare say you will never attempt to offend her a second time. "

"Indeed, Aunt Septima, I never dreamed it was so late, " criedconscious Daisy. "I was watching the sun rise over the cotton-fields, and watching the dewdrops glittering on the corn, thinking of thebeautiful heiress of Whitestone Hall. I am so sorry I forgot about thedresses. "

Hastily catching up the heavy basket, she hurried quickly down thepath, like a startled deer, to escape the volley of wrath theindignant spinster hurled after her. 

It was a beautiful morning; no cloud was in the smiling heavens; thesun shone brightly, and the great oak and cedar-trees that skirted theroadside seemed to thrill with the song of birds. Butterflies spreadtheir light wings and coquetted with the fragrant blossoms, and busyhumming-bees buried themselves in the heart of the crimson wild rose. The basket was very heavy, and poor little Daisy's hands ached withthe 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 twowill not matter. Oh, dear, I am so tired!"

She set the basket down on the cool, green grass, flinging herselfbeside it beneath the grateful shade of a blossoming magnolia-tree, resting her golden head against the basket of filmy laces that were toadorn the beautiful heiress of whom she had heard so much, yet neverseen, and of whom every one felt in such awe. 

She looked wistfully at the great mansion in the distance, thinkinghow differently her own life had been. 

The soft, wooing breeze fanned her cheeks, tossing about her goldencurls in wanton sport. It was so pleasant to sit there in the dreamysilence 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 asmile--all unheeded were the fluted laces--Daisy slept. Oh, cruelbreeze--oh, fatal wooing breeze to have infolded hapless Daisy in yoursoft embrace!

Over the hills came the sound of baying hounds, followed by a quick, springy step through the crackling underbrush, as a young man inclose-fitting velvet hunting-suit and jaunty velvet cap emerged fromthe thicket toward the main road. 

As he parted the magnolia branches the hound sprang quickly forward atsome object beneath the tree, with a low, hoarse growl. 

"Down, Towser, down!" cried Rex Lyon, leaping lightly over someintervening brushwood. "What kind of game have we here? Whew!" heejaculated, surprisedly; "a young girl, pretty as a picture, and, bythe eternal, fast asleep, too!"

Still Daisy slept on, utterly unconscious of the handsome brown eyesthat were regarding her so admiringly. 

"I have often heard of fairies, but this is the first time I have evercaught one napping under the trees. I wonder who she is anyhow? Surelyshe can not be some drudging farmer's daughter with a form and facelike that?" he mused, suspiciously eying the basket of freshlylaundered laces against which the flushed cheeks and waving goldenhair rested. 

Just then his ludicrous position struck him forcibly. 

"Come, Towser, " he said, "it would never do for you and me to becaught staring at this pretty wood-nymph so rudely, if she should bychance awaken just now. "

Tightening the strap of his game-bag over his shoulder, andreadjusting his velvet cap jauntily over his brown curls, Rex wasabout to resume his journey in the direction of Whitestone Hall, whenthe sound of rapidly approaching carriage-wheels fell upon his ears. Realizing his awkward position, Rex knew the wisest course he couldpossibly pursue would be to screen himself behind the magnoliabranches until the vehicle should pass. The next instant a pair ofprancing ponies, attached to a basket phaeton, in which sat a younggirl, who held them well in check, dashed rapidly up the road. Rexcould scarcely repress an exclamation of surprise as he saw theoccupant was his young hostess, Pluma Hurlhurst of Whitestone Hall. She drew rein directly in front of the sleeping girl, and Rex Lyonnever forgot, to his dying day, the discordant laugh that broke fromher red lips--a laugh which caused poor Daisy to start from herslumber in wild alarm, scattering the snowy contents of the basket inall directions. 

For a single instant their eyes met--these two girls, whose lives wereto 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 mymull dresses some three hours since, I presume. May I ask whatdetained you?"

Poor Daisy was quite crestfallen; great tear-drops trembled on herlong lashes. How could she answer? She had fallen asleep, wooed by thelulling breeze and the sunshine. 

"The basket was so heavy, " she answered, timidly, "and I--I--sat downto 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 Hallwithin ten minutes; not an instant later. "

Touching the prancing ponies with her ivory-handled whip, the haughtyyoung heiress whirled leisurely down the road, leaving Daisy, withflushed face and tear-dimmed eyes, gazing after her. 

"Oh, dear, I wish I had never been born, " she sobbed, flinging herselfdown on her knees, and burying her face in the long, cool grass. "Noone ever speaks a kind word to me but poor old Uncle John, and even hedare not be kind when Aunt Septima is near. She might have taken thisheavy basket in her carriage, " sighed Daisy, bravely lifting the heavyburden in her delicate arms. 

"That is just what I think, " muttered Rex Lyon from his place ofconcealment, savagely biting his lip. 

In another moment he was by her side. 

"Pardon me, " he said, deferentially raising his cap from his glossycurls, "that basket is too heavy for your slender arms. Allow me toassist you. "

In a moment the young girl stood up, and made the prettiest and mostgraceful of courtesies as she raised to his a face he never forgot. Involuntarily he raised his cap again in homage to her youth, and hershy sweet beauty. 

"No; I thank you, sir, I have not far to carry the basket, " shereplied, in a voice sweet as the chiming of silver bells--a voice thatthrilled him, he could not tell why. 

A sudden desire possessed Rex to know who she was and from whence shecame. 

"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 itsuits you!"

He watched the crimson blushes that dyed her fair young face--shenever once raised her dark-blue eyes to his. The more Rex looked ather the more he admired this coy, bewitching, pretty little maiden. She made a fair picture under the boughs of the magnolia-tree, thickwith odorous pink-and-white tinted blossoms, the sunbeams falling onher golden hair. 

The sunshine or the gentle southern wind brought Rex no warning he wasforging the first links of a dreadful tragedy. He thought only of theshy blushing beauty and coy grace of the young girl--he never dreamedof the hour when he should look back to that moment, wondering at hisown blind folly, with a curse on his lips. 

Again from over the trees came the sound of the great bell from theHall. 

"It is eight o'clock, " cried Daisy, in alarm. "Miss Pluma will be soangry 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 withthis 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 hadno choice but to follow him. "There, " said Rex, setting the basketdown by the plantation gate, which they had reached all too soon, "youmust go, I suppose. It seems hard to leave the bright sunshine to goindoors. "

"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 inhis clasp. Daisy looked so happy yet so frightened, so charming yet soshy, Rex hardly knew how to define the feeling that stirred in hisheart. 

He watched the graceful, fairy figure as Daisy tripped away--insteadof thinking he had done a very foolish thing that bright morning. Rexlighted a cigar and fell to dreaming of sweet little Daisy Brooks, andwondering how he should pass the time until he should see her again. 

While Daisy almost flew up the broad gravel path to the house, theheavy burden she bore seemed light as a feather--no thought that shehad been imprudent ever entered her mind. 

There was no one to warn her of the peril which lay in the witchingdepths of the handsome stranger's glances. 

All her young life she had dreamed of the hero who would one day cometo her, just such a dream as all youthful maidens experience--an idolthey enshrine in their innermost heart, and worship in secret, neverdreaming of a cold, dark time when the idol may lie shattered in ruinsat their feet. How little knew gentle Daisy Brooks of the fatal lovewhich would drag her down to her doom!

CHAPTER III. 

In an elegant boudoir, all crimson and gold, some hours later, satPluma Hurlhurst, reclining negligently on a satin divan, toying idlywith a volume which lay in her lap. She tossed the book aside with ayawn, turning her superb dark eyes on the little figure bending overthe rich trailing silks which were to adorn her own fair beauty on thecoming 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 madeyourself very valuable to me. I like the artistic manner you havetwined these roses in my hair; the effect is quite picturesque. " Sheglanced satisfiedly at her own magnificent reflection in thecheval-glass opposite. Titian alone could have reproduced thoserich, marvelous colors--that perfect, queenly beauty. He would havepainted the picture, and the world would have raved about its beauty. The dark masses of raven-black hair; the proud, haughty face, withits warm southern tints; the dusky eyes, lighted with fire andpassion, and the red, curved lips. "I wish particularly to look myvery best to-night, Daisy, " she said; "that is why I wish you toremain. You can arrange those sprays of white heath in my hairsuperbly. Then you shall attend the fête, Daisy. Remember, you are notexpected to take part in it; you must sit in some secluded nookwhere you will be quite unobserved. "

Pluma could not help but smile at the ardent delight depicted inDaisy's face. 

"I am afraid I can not stay, " she said, doubtfully, glancing down indismay at the pink-and-white muslin she wore. "Every one would be sureto 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, forinstance--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 fainbelieve what she heard was really true. 

"Would you really?" asked Daisy, wonderingly. "You, whom people callso haughty and so proud--you would really let me wear one of yourdresses? I do not know how to tell you how much I am pleased!" shesaid, eagerly. 

Pluma Hurlhurst laughed. Such rapture was new to her. 

The night which drew its mantle over the smiling earth was a perfectone. Myriads of stars shone like jewels in the blue sky, and not acloud obscured the face of the clear full moon. Hurlhurst Plantationwas ablaze with colored lamps that threw out soft rainbow tints in alldirections as far as the eye could reach. The interior of WhitestoneHall was simply dazzling in its rich rose bloom, its lights, itsfountains, and rippling music from adjoining ferneries. 

In an elegant apartment of the Hall Basil Hurlhurst, the recluseinvalid, lay upon his couch, trying to shut out the mirth and gayetythat floated up to him from below. As the sound of Pluma's voicesounded upon his ear he turned his face to the wall with a bittergroan. "She is so like--" he muttered, grimly. "Ah! the pleasantvoices 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 countryround were gathered together to welcome the beautiful, peerlesshostess of Whitestone Hall. Pluma moved among her guests like a queen, yet in all that vast throng her eyes eagerly sought one face. "Wherewas Rex?" was the question which constantly perplexed her. After thefirst waltz he had suddenly disappeared. Only the evening beforehandsome Rex Lyon had held her jeweled hand long at parting, whispering, in his graceful, charming way, he had something to tellher on the morrow. "Why did he hold himself so strangely aloof?" Plumaasked herself, in bitter wonder. Ah! had she but known!

While Pluma, the wealthy heiress, awaited his coming so eagerly, RexLyon was standing, quite lost in thought, beside a rippling fountainin 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 dreamof loveliness, and without thinking of it found his fate, and thewhole world seemed changed for him. 

Handsome, impulsive Rex Lyon, owner of several of the most extensiveand lucrative orange groves in Florida, would have bartered everydollar 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. Lastnight he had said to himself: The time had come when he might as wellmarry; it might as well be Pluma as any one else, seeing she cared somuch for him. Now all that was changed. "I sincerely hope she will notattach undue significance to the words I spoke last evening, " hemused. 

Rex did not care to return again among the throng; it was sweeter farto sit there by the murmuring fountain dreaming of Daisy Brooks, andwondering when he should see her again. A throng which did not holdthe face of Daisy Brooks had no charm for Rex. 

Suddenly a soft step sounded on the grass; Rex's heart gave a suddenbound; surely it could not be--yes, it was--Daisy Brooks. 

She drew back with a startled cry as her eyes suddenly encounteredthose of her hero of the morning. She would have fled precipitatelyhad he not stretched out his hand quickly to detain her. 

"Daisy, " cried Rex, "why do you look so frightened? Are you displeasedto see me?"

"No, " she said. "I--I--do not know--"

She looked so pretty, so bewildered, so dazzled by joy, yet sopitifully uncertain, Rex was more desperately in love with her thanever. 

"Your eyes speak, telling me you _are_ pleased, Daisy, even if yourlips _refuse_ to tell me so. Sit down on this rustic bench, Daisy, while I tell you how anxiously I awaited your coming--waited until theshadows of evening fell. "

As he talked to her he grew more interested with every moment. Shehad no keen intellect, no graceful powers of repartee, knew little ofbooks or the great world beyond. Daisy was a simple, guileless childof nature. 

Rex's vanity was gratified at the unconscious admiration which shonein her eyes and the blushes his words brought to her cheeks. 

"There is my favorite waltz, Daisy, " he said, as the music of theirresistible "Blue Danube" floated out to them. "Will you favor mewith 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 atone another in surprise. Who is she? they asked one of the other, gazing upon her in wonder. No one could answer. The sweet-faced littlemaiden in soft, floating white, with a face like an angel's, who woreno other ornament than her crown of golden hair, was a mystery and anovelty. In all the long years of her after life Daisy never forgotthat supremely blissful moment. It seemed to her they were floatingaway into another sphere. Rex's arms were around her, his eyes smilingdown into hers; he could feel the slight form trembling in hisembrace, and he clasped her still closer. With youth, music, andbeauty--there was nothing wanting to complete the charm of love. 

Leaning gracefully against an overarching palm-tree stood a young manwatching the pair with a strange intentness; a dark, vindictive smilehovered about the corners of his mouth, hidden by his black mustache, and there was a cruel gleam in the dark, wicked eyes scanning the faceof the young girl so closely. 

"Ah! why not?" he mused. "It would be a glorious revenge. " He made hisway hurriedly in the direction of his young hostess, who was, asusual, surrounded by a group of admirers. A deep crimson spot burnedon either cheek, and her eyes glowed like stars, as of one underintense, suppressed excitement. 

Lester Stanwick made his way to her side just as the last echo of thewaltz died away on the air, inwardly congratulating himself uponfinding Rex and Daisy directly beside him. 

"Miss Pluma, " said Stanwick, with a low bow, "will you kindly presentme to the little fairy on your right? I am quite desperately smittenwith her. "

Several gentlemen crowded around Pluma asking the same favor. 

With a smile and a bow, what could Rex do but lead Daisy gracefullyforward. 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 scornfullyat the slight, girlish figure leaning upon Rex Lyon's arm. "I do notrecognize this person as a guest. If I mistake not, she is one of thehirelings connected with the plantation. "

If a thunderbolt had suddenly exploded beneath Rex's feet he could nothave been more thoroughly astounded. 

Daisy uttered a piteous little cry and, like a tender flower cut downby a sudden, rude blast, would have fallen at his feet had he notreached out his arm to save her. 

"Miss Hurlhurst, " cried Rex, in a voice husky with emotion, "I holdmyself responsible for this young lady's presence here. I--"

"Ah!" interrupts Pluma, ironically; "and may I ask by what right youforce one so inferior, and certainly obnoxious, among us?"

Rex Lyon's handsome face was white with rage. "Miss Hurlhurst, " hereplied, with stately dignity, "I regret, more than the mere wordsexpress, that my heedlessness has brought upon this little creature atmy side an insult so cruel, so unjust, and so bitter, in simplygranting my request for a waltz--a request very reluctantly granted. An invited guest among you she may not be; but I most emphaticallydefy 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 havedone that which any gentleman should have done; defended from insultone of the purest and sweetest of maidens. I will do more--I willshield her, henceforth and forever, with my very life, if need be. IfI can win her, I shall make Daisy Brooks my wife. "

Rex spoke rapidly--vehemently. His chivalrous soul was aroused; hescarcely heeded the impetuous words that fell from his lips. He couldnot endure the thought that innocent, trusting little Daisy shouldsuffer through any fault of his. 

"Come, Daisy, " he said, softly, clasping in his own strong white onesthe little fingers clinging so pitifully to his arm, "we will go awayfrom 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 thatto separate us--you have forgotten, Rex. You said you had something totell me. You will not part with me so easily, " she cried. 

A sudden terror seized her at the thought of losing him. He was herworld. She forgot the guests gathering about her--forgot she was thewealthy, courted heiress for whose glance or smiles men sued invain--forgot her haughty pride, in the one absorbing thought that Rexwas going from her. Her wild, fiery, passionate love could bear norestraint. 

"Rex, " she cried, suddenly falling on her knees before him, her facewhite and stormy, her white jeweled hands clasped supplicatingly, "youmust 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 willit matter, it is the truth. My love is my life. You loved me until shecame between us with her false, fair face. But for this you would haveasked 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 herbitter words. 

Rex was painfully distressed and annoyed. Fortunately but very few ofthe guests had observed the thrilling tableau enacted so near them. 

"Pluma--Miss Hurlhurst, " he said, "I am sorry you have unfortunatelythus expressed yourself, for your own sake. I beg you will say nomore. You yourself have severed this night the last link offriendship between us. I am frank with you in thus admitting it. Isympathize with you, while your words have filled me with thedeepest consternation and embarrassment, which it is useless longer toprolong. "

Drawing Daisy's arm hurriedly within his own, Rex Lyon strode quicklydown the graveled path, with the full determination of never againcrossing the threshold of Whitestone Hall, or gazing upon the face ofPluma 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 herside at that opportune moment. "On the stage you would have made agrand success. We are practicing for a coming charade, " explainedStanwick, laughingly; "and, judging from the expressions depicted onour friend's faces, I should say you have drawn largely upon reallife. 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 resumedits sway. 

Long after the guests had departed Pluma sat in her boudoir, her hearttorn with pain, love, and jealousy, her brain filled with schemes ofvengeance. 

"I can not take her life!" she cried; "but if I could mar herbeauty--the pink-and-white beauty of Daisy Brooks, which has won Rexfrom me--I would do it. I shall torture her for this, " she cried. "Iwill 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 whoanswered 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--"_Iwill not be long!_"

CHAPTER IV. 

"Daisy, " said Rex, gently, as he led her away from the lights and theechoing music out into the starlight that shone with a soft, silveryradiance over hill and vale, "I shall never forgive myself for beingthe 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 withyou, " 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 haveknown just how dear a certain little girl had grown to me; besides, Iam 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'sface, it was of her he was thinking, and not Pluma, by the words, "acertain 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 himso strangely. 

"Daisy, " he said, gently, taking her little clinging hands from hisarm, and clasping them in his own, "you must not be startled at what Iam going to tell you. When I met you under the magnolia boughs, I knewI had met my fate. I said to myself: 'She, and no other, shall be mywife. '"

"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, andI am only poor little Daisy Brooks. "

Oh, how soft and beautiful were the eyes swimming in tears and liftedso 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 theireyes met, with all the strength of his boyish, passionate nature; soit is not strange that the thought of possessing her, years soonerthan he should have dared hope, made his young blood stir with ecstasyeven though he knew it was wrong. 

"Wealth shall be no barrier between us, Daisy, " he cried. "What is allthe wealth in the world compared to love? Do not say that again. Loveoutweighs 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 menhave ever felt have come to them suddenly, without warning. "

The glamour of love was upon him; he could see no faults in prettylittle artless Daisy. True, she had not been educated abroad likePluma, but that did not matter; such a lovely rosebud mouth was madefor kisses, not grammar. 

Rex stood in suspense beside her, eagerly watching the conflict goingon in the girl's heart. 

"Don't refuse me, Daisy, " he cried, "give me the right to protect youforever from the cold world; let us be married to-night. We will keepit a secret if you say so. You must--you _must_, Daisy, for I can notgive you up. "

Rex was so eager, so earnest, so thoroughly the impassioned lover! Hishands were clinging to her own, his dark, handsome face drooped nearhers, his pleading eyes searching her very soul. 

Daisy was young, romantic, and impressible; a thousand thoughts rushedthrough her brain; it would be so nice to have a young husband to loveher and care for her like Rex, so handsome and so kind; then, too, shewould have plenty of dresses, as fine as Pluma wore, all lace andpuffs; she might have a carriage and ponies, too; and when she rolledby the little cottage, Septima, who had always been so cruel to her, would courtesy to _her_, as she did when Pluma, the haughty youngheiress, passed. 

The peachy bloom on her cheeks deepened; with Daisy's thoughtlessclinging nature, her craving for love and protection, her implicitfaith in Rex, who had protected her so nobly at the fête--it is not tobe wondered Rex won the day. 

Shyly Daisy raised her blue eyes to his face--and he read a shy, sweetconsent that thrilled his very soul. 

"You shall never regret this hour, my darling, " he cried, then in thesoft silvery twilight he took her to his heart and kissed herrapturously. 

His mother's bitter anger, so sure to follow--the cold, haughtymother, who never forgot or forgave an injury, and his little sisterBirdie's sorrow were at that moment quite forgotten--even if they hadbeen remembered they would have weighed as naught compared with hislovely little Daisy with the golden hair and eyes of blue looking upat him so trustingly. 

Daisy never forgot that walk through the sweet pink clover to thelittle chapel on the banks of the lonely river. The crickets chirpedin the long green grass, and the breeze swayed the branches of thetall leafy trees, rocking the little birds in their nests. 

A sudden, swift, terrified look crept up into Daisy's face as theyentered the dim shadowy parlor. Rex took her trembling chilled handsin his own; if he had not, at that moment, Daisy would have fled fromthe room. 

"Only a little courage, Daisy, " he whispered, "then a life ofhappiness. "

Then as if in a dream she stood quite still by his side, while thefatal ceremony went on; in a confused murmur she heard the questionsand 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 sownthe seeds from which was to spring up a harvest of woe so terriblethat her wildest imagination could not have painted it. 

"Are we really married, Rex?" she whispered, as he led her out againinto the starlight; "it seems so much like a dream. "

He bent his handsome head and kissed his pretty child-bride. Daisydrew 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 havethe right to scold you again; you are mine now, Daisy, but we mustkeep it a secret from every one for awhile, darling. You will do thisfor my sake, won't you, Daisy?" he asked. "I am rich, as far as theworld knows, but it was left to me under peculiar conditions. I--I--donot like to tell you what those conditions were, Daisy. "

"Please tell me, Rex, " she said, timidly; "you know I amyour--your--wife--now. "

Daisy blushed so prettily as she spoke. Rex could not refrain fromcatching her up in his arms and kissing her. 

"You _shall_ know, my darling, " he cried. "The conditions were Ishould marry the bride whom my mother selected for me. I was as muchstartled as you will be, Daisy, when you hear who it was--PlumaHurlhurst, 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 wildflower. I would not exchange you, sweet, for all the world. I haveonly told you this so you will see why it is necessary to keep ourmarriage 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 foundmy little wood-nymph, as I shall always call you. Then we can talkmatters over better. You will be sure to come while the dew sparkleson your pretty namesakes?" he asked, eagerly. 

Before she had time to answer the cottage door opened and Septimaappeared in the door-way. Rex was obliged to content himself withsnatching a hasty kiss from the rosy lips. The next moment he wasalone. 

He walked slowly back through the tangled brushwood--not toWhitestone Hall, but to an adjoining hostelry--feeling as though hewere in a new world. True, it _was_ hard to be separated from hislittle child-bride. But Rex had a clever brain; he meant to thinkof some plan out of the present difficulty. His face flushed andpaled as he thought of his new position; it seemed to him everyone must certainly read in his face he was a young husband. 

Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the broad gravel path to the littlecottage, wondering if it were a dream. 

"Well!" said Septima, sharply, "this is a pretty time of night to comedancing home, leaving me all alone with the baking! If I hadn't myhands full of dough I'd give your ears a sound boxing! I'll see you'renever 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 flingingher plump little arms around the irate spinster's neck, "please don'tbe 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 likelystory!"

"No, " laughed Daisy; "but you are dear old Uncle John's sister, and Icould love you for that, if for nothing else. But I really wasdetained, though. Where's Uncle John?"

"He's gone to the Hall after you, I reckon. I told him he had betterstop 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 loudlyshe 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 wasstretched out to stay her mad flight. "I--I--must go!"

CHAPTER V. 

"I say you shall not, " cried Septima, planting herself firmly beforeher. "You shall not leave this house to-night. "

"You have no right to keep me here, " panted Daisy. "I am--I am--" Thewords died away on her lips. Rex had told her she must not tell justyet. 

"You are a rash little fool, " cried Septima, wrathfully. "You are thebane of my life, and have been ever since that stormy winter nightJohn brought you here. I told him then to wash his hands of the wholematter; you would grow up a willful, impetuous minx, and turn out atlast like your mother. "

Daisy sprung to her feet like lightning, her velvet eyes blazing, herbreath coming quick and hot. 

"Speak of me as lightly as you will, Aunt Septima, " she cried, "butyou must spare my poor mother's name! Oh, mother, mother!" she cried, flinging herself down on her knees, and sobbing piteously, "if you hadonly 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 pathwithout, 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 notbeen home, and I was sorely afraid something had happened you. "

Ah! how little he knew! Something had happened to her, the darkest andcruelest shadow that had ever darkened a girl's life was slowlygathering above her innocent head, and was soon to break, carrying inits turbulent depths a sorrow more bitter than death to bear. 

John Brooks glanced inquiringly from the one to the other, intuitivelyguessing he must have interrupted a scene. 

Daisy had struggled up from her knees to a sitting posture, puttingher hair, curled into a thousand shining rings, away from her flushedface. 

"Have you been scolding Daisy again, Septima?" he asked, angrily, taking the panting little damsel from the floor and seating her uponhis knee, and drawing her curly head down to his rough-clad shoulder, and holding it there with his toil-hardened hand. "What have you beensaying to my little Daisy that I find her in tears?"

"I was telling her if she did not mend her willful ways she might turnout like her moth--"

"Hush!" exclaimed John Brooks, excitedly. "I shouldn't have thoughtyou 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 thesense to know Daisy is getting too big for you to take on your kneeand pet in that fashion? I am really ashamed of you. Daisy is almost awoman!" snapped Septima, scornfully--"quite sixteen. "

John Brooks looked at his sister in amazement, holding little Daisyoff and gazing into the sweet little blooming face, and stroking thelong fluffy golden curls as he replied:

"Ah, no, Septima; Daisy is only a child. Why, it seems as thoughit were but yesterday I used to take her with me through thecotton-fields, and laugh to see her stretch her chubby hands up, crying for the bursting blossoms, growing high above her curlygolden head. Pshaw! Septima, Daisy is only a merry, frolicsome, romantic child yet. "

Daisy nestled her tell-tale face closer on his broad shoulder to hidethe 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 haveheard of her romantic marriage with Rex, turning white to the verylips, 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 somethingthat 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 tobe filled up. There was something in his voice which made Daisy lookat him, but her eyes fell and her cheeks flushed hotly as she met hisglance. 

Daisy was not used to keeping a secret locked up in her truthfullittle heart. She longed to throw her arms around his neck and whisperto him of her mad, romantic marriage, and of the handsome younghusband who loved her so fondly. 

Daisy knew so little of real life, and less of love and marriage, upto the time she had met Rex! Her heroes had been imaginary ones, herideas of love only girlish, romantic fancies. It was all veryexciting and charming. She was very fond of handsome Rex, but she hadyet to learn the depths of love which, sooner or later, brightens thelives 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 tosend 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 mymind. "

"What!"

"I--I don't want to go off to boarding-school now. I had rather stayhere with you. "

John Brooks laid down the pipe he was just lighting in genuinesurprise. 

"Why, it's only last week you were crying those pretty eyes of yoursout, teasing to be sent to school. I--well, confound it--I don'tunderstand the ways of women. I always thought you were different fromthe rest, little Daisy, but I see you are all the same. Never two daysof 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 aboutit 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 havemade 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 bedat once, or there will be no roses in these checks to-morrow. "

He never forgot the expression of the white, startled face Daisyraised to his. For once in her life Daisy was unable to shake him fromhis purpose. 

"I know best, little one, " he said. "I mean to make a lady of you. Youhave no fortune, little Daisy, but your pretty face. It will be hardto lose my little sunbeam, but it is my duty, Daisy. It is too late toback out now; for once I am firm. You must start to-morrow morning. "

"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" sobbed Daisy, throwing herself down on herlittle 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 wasmarried being sent off to school. I--I dare not tell Uncle John I amsomebody's wife. Oh, if I could only see Rex!" Daisy springs out ofbed and crosses over to the little white curtained window, gazing outinto the still calm beauty of the night. "If I only knew where tofind Rex, " she mused, "I would go to him now. Surely he would not letme be sent away from him. " She turned away from the window with asigh. "I must see Rex to-morrow morning, " she said, determinedly. Andthe weary little golden head, tired out with the day which had justdied out, sunk restfully down upon the snowy pillow in a dreamlesssleep, the happiest, alas! that poor little girl-bride was to know forlong and weary years. 

A dark, dreamy silence wraps the cottage in its soft embrace, themoon, clear and full, sails tranquilly through the star-sown heavens, and the sweet scent of distant orange groves is wafted through themidnight breeze. Yet the dark-cloaked figure that walks quickly andsoftly up the graveled walk sees none of the soft, calm beauty of thestill summer night. She raises the brass knocker with a quick, imperative touch. After a wait of perhaps ten minutes or so Septimaanswers the summons, but the candle she holds nearly drops from herhands 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 theHall?"

"No!" replies Pluma, in a low, soft, guarded whisper. "I wished to seeyou--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 worefell from her shoulders, and Septima saw with wonder she still worethe shimmering silk she had in all probability worn at the fête. Therubies still glowed like restless, leaping fire upon her perfect armsand snowy throat, and sprays of hyacinth were still twined in herdark, glossy hair; but they were quite faded now, drooping, crushed, and limp among her curls; there was a strange dead-white pallor on herhaughty face, and a lurid gleam shone in her dark, slumbrous eyes. Pluma had studied well the character of the woman before her--who madeno secret of her dislike for the child thrust upon their bounty--andreadily imagined she would willingly aid her in carrying out thescheme she had planned. 

Slowly one by one the stars died out of the sky; the pale moon driftedsilently behind the heavy rolling clouds; the winds tossed the tops ofthe tall trees to and fro, and the dense darkness which precedes thebreaking of the gray dawn settled over the earth. 

The ponies which the groom had held for long hours pawed the groundrestlessly; the man himself was growing impatient. 

"She can be up to no good, " he muttered; "all honest people should bein their beds. "

The door of the cottage opened, and Pluma Hurlhurst walked slowly downthe path. 

"All is fair in love's warfare, " she mutters, triumphantly. "Fool!with your baby face and golden hair, you shall walk quickly into thenet I have spread for you; he shall despise you. Ay, crush with hisheel into the earth the very flowers that bear the name of _Daisy_. "

CHAPTER VI. 

Under the magnolia-tree, among the pink clover, Rex Lyon paceduneasily to and fro, wondering what could have happened to detainDaisy. He was very nervous, feverish, and impatient, as he watched thesun rising higher and higher in the blue heavens, and glanced at hiswatch for the fifth time in the space of a minute. 

"Pshaw!" he muttered, whisking off the tops of the buttercups near himwith his ebony walking-stick. "I am not myself at all. I am growing asnervous as a woman. I think I'll read little sister Birdie's letterover again to occupy my mind until my sweet little Daisy comes. "

He sighed and smiled in one breath, as he threw himself down at fulllength on the green grass under the trees. Taking from his pocket alittle square white envelope, addressed in a childish hand to "Mr. Rexford Lyon, Allendale, West Virginia, Care of Miss Pluma. " Rexlaughed aloud, until the tears started to his eyes, as they fell onthe words "_Care of Miss Pluma_, " heavily underlined in the lowercorner. 

"That is just like careless little romping Birdie, " he mused. "Shesupposes, because _she_ knows who _Miss Pluma_ is, every one else mustcertainly be aware of the same fact. "

He spread out the letter on his knee, trying hard to while away timein 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 curlsresting 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 towin the love of young romantic girls like Daisy and Pluma--the haughtyyoung heiress. 

Slowly Rex read the letter through to the end. The morning stagewhirled rapidly past him on its way to meet the early train. Yet, allunconscious that it bore away from him his treasure, he never onceglanced 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, whistlinga snatch of "The Pages' Chorus. " "Birdie won't have anything to fearon that score. I do wish mother hadn't set my heart on my marryingPluma. Parents make a mistake in choosing whom their children shallmarry 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 hourhad slipped away, "I can not stand this a minute longer. I _must_ seewhat has happened to Daisy. "

With a nameless fear clutching at his heart--a dark, shadowyfear--like the premonition of coming evil, Rex made his way rapidlythrough the tangled underbrush, cutting across lots to John Brooks'cottage. 

He had determined to call for Daisy upon some pretext. It was rather abold undertaking and might cause comment, still Rex was reckless ofall consequences; he _must_ see Daisy at all hazards; and when Rexmade up his mind to do anything he usually succeeded; he was as daringand 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; ityielded to the touch, swinging slowly back on its creaking hinges. 

"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, gazing wildly about him and as pale asdeath, "Daisy is gone and the cottage is empty!"

He leaned against the door-way, putting his hand to his brow like onewho had received a heavy blow; and the bare walls seemed to take upthe 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 waspassing the door a few hours since, just as the stage drove off withJohn Brooks and Daisy. 'Good-bye, neighbor, ' he called out to me, 'Iam off on an extended business trip. You must bring your wife over tosee Septima; she will be lonely, I'll warrant. ' There was no sign ofhim 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 thanever. 

"What can it all mean?" he asked himself. "Surely, " he cried, "Daisy--dear little innocent blue-eyed Daisy--could not have meant todeceive me; yet why has she not told me?"

The hot blood mounted to his temples. Perhaps Daisy regretted havingmarried him and had fled from him. The thought was so bitter it almosttook his breath away. Rex loved her so madly, so passionately, soblindly, he vowed to himself he would search heaven and earth to findher. And in that terrible hour the young husband tasted the firstdraught of the cup of bitterness which he was to drain to the verydregs. 

Poor Rex! he little knew this was but the first stroke of PlumaHurlhurst's fatal revenge--to remove her rival from her path that shemight 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 herown little room and write a hasty line to Rex, which, if all othermeans failed her, she could send to him by one of the men employed inthe fields, begging him to come to her at once. Septima would notleave her to herself for a single instant. Even her writing-desk, which had stood on the bureau in the corner for years, was gone. Poorlittle 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. "Ishould like to see the old magnolia-tree down in the glade just oncebefore I go. "

"Nonsense, " replied Septima, sharply, a malicious smile hovering aboutthe corners of her mouth. "I guess the trees and the flowers won'twither and die of grief if you don't bid them good-bye; it's too latenow, anyhow. See, here is the stage coming already, " she cried, glancing out of the window, "and here comes John with his valise andumbrella. Make haste, Daisy; where's your gloves and satchel?"

For one brief instant Daisy stood irresolute; if she had only daredcry 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 weresealed. 

"Well, well, " cried John Brooks, hurriedly entering the room; "notready yet, little girlie? We must be off at once or we will miss thetrain. "

In vain Daisy protested brokenly she could not go, and the agony inthose blue uplifted eyes would have touched a heart of stone. StillJohn Brooks believed it would be a sin to comply with her request. Goto school she must, for Heaven had intended a cultured mind shouldaccompany so beautiful a face. Half lifting, half carrying the slightfigure in his powerful arms, Daisy was borne, half fainting andsobbing as though her heart would break, to the vehicle which stood inwaiting. 

On through the fragrant stillness of that sunshiny summer morning thejolting stage rolled rapidly on its way, crossing the little bridgewhere she had lingered only the night before with Rex, her husband;they would soon reach the alder bushes that skirted the pool. The nextbend in the road would bring her in sight of the magnolia-tree whereRex 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 comeover little Daisy--sweet, impulsive little Daisy--in a single night. "She is only a child, " he muttered to himself, "full of whims andcaprices; crying her eyes out last week because she could not go offto school, and now crying because she's got to go. "

Swiftly the stage rolled down the green sloping hill-side; in anothermoment it had reached the alder bushes and gained the curve of theroad, and she saw Rex lying on the green grass waiting for her. Thesunlight drifting through the magnolia blossoms fell upon hishandsome, upturned, smiling face and the dark curls pushed back fromhis white forehead. "Rex! Rex!" she cried, wringing her white hands, but the words died away on her white lips, making no sound. Then theworld seemed to close darkly around her, and poor little Daisy, theunhappy girl-bride, fell back in the coach in a deadly swoon. 

CHAPTER VII. 

"Poor little Daisy!" cried John Brooks, wiping away a suspiciousmoisture from his eyes with his rough, toil-hardened hand, "she takesit pretty hard now; but the time will come when she will thank me forit. Heaven knows there's nothing in this world more valuable than aneducation; and she will need it, poor little, motherless child!"

As the stage drove up before the station Daisy opened her blue eyeswith a sigh. "I can at least write to Rex at once, " she thought, "andexplain the whole matter to him. " Daisy smiled as she thought Rexwould be sure to follow on the very next train. 

John Brooks watched the smile and the flush of the rosy face, andbelieved Daisy was beginning to feel more reconciled about going toschool. 

"I hope we will get there by noon, " said John, anxiously, taking theseat beside her on the crowded train. "If we missed the train at thecross-roads it would be a serious calamity. I should be obliged tosend you on alone; for I _must_ get to New York by night, as I havesome very important business to transact for the plantation whichmust be attended to at once. "

"Alone!" echoed Daisy, tremblingly. "Why, Uncle John, I was never awayfrom home alone in my life!"

"That's just the difficulty, " he answered, perplexedly. "I have alwaysguarded my little flower from the world's cruel blasts, and you areunused 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 haveto fly around to these newspaper offices, advertising for the recoveryof a little country Daisy which was either lost, strayed, or stolen. No, no, little one!" he cried; "I would not trust you alone, astranger in a great city. A thousand ills might befall a young girlwith a face like yours. "

"No one would know I was a stranger, " replied Daisy, innocently. "Ishould simply inquire the way to Madame Whitney's, and follow thedirections given me. "

"There! didn't I tell you you could never find the way?" laughed Johnuntil he was red in the face. "You suppose a city is like our countrylanes, eh?--where you tell a stranger: 'Follow that path until youcome to a sign-post, then that will tell you which road leads to thevillage. ' Ha! ha! ha! Why, my dear little Daisy, not one person in ahundred whom you might meet ever heard of Madame Whitney! In citiespeople don't know their very neighbors personally. They are sure tofind out if there's any scandal afloat about them--and that is allthey do know about them. You would have a lively time of it findingMadame Whitney's without your old uncle John to pilot you through, Ican tell you. "

Daisy's last hope was nipped in the bud. She had told herself, if shewere left alone, she could send a telegram back at once to Rex, and hewould join her, and she would not have to go to school--school, whichwould separate a girl-bride from her handsome young husband, of whomshe was fast learning to be so fond. 

"I could have sent you under the care of Mr. Stanwick, " continuedJohn, thoughtfully. "He started for the city yesterday--but I did notreceive Madame Whitney's letter in time. "

He did not notice, as he spoke, that the occupant in the seat directlyin front of them gave a perceptible start, drawing the broad slouchhat he wore, which concealed his features so well, still further overhis face, while a cruel smile lingered for a moment about the handsomemouth. 

The stranger appeared deeply interested in the columns of the paper heheld before him; but in reality he was listening attentively to theconversation going on behind him. 

"I shall not lose sight of this pretty little girl, " said LesterStanwick to himself, for it was he. "No power on earth shall save herfrom me. I shall win her from him--by fair means or foul. It will be aglorious revenge!"

"Madame Whitney's seminary is a very high-toned institution, "continued John, reflectively; "and the young girls I saw there wore noend of furbelows and ribbons; but I'll warrant for fresh, sweet beautyyou'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--couldever 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 youngto 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 aswell speak out what I've had on my mind some time back. I don't wantmy little Daisy to fall in love with any of these strangers shehappens to meet. You are too young to know anything about loveaffairs. You'll never rightly understand it until it comes to you. Imust know all about the man who wants my little Daisy. Whatever youdo, little one, do upright and honestly. And, above all, never deceiveme. I have often heard of these romantic young school-girls falling inlove with handsome strangers, and clandestine meetings following, ending in elopements; but, mark my words, no good comes of thesedeceptions--forewarned is forearmed. Daisy, you'll always remember mywords, and say to yourself: 'He knows what is best. ' You will rememberwhat I say, won't you, Pet?"

He wondered why the fair, sweet face grew as pale as a snow-drop, andthe cold little fingers trembled in his clasp, and the velvety eyesdrooped 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 voicewould tremble. 

"Bal--ti--more!" shouted the brakeman, lustily. "Twenty minutes forbreakfast. Change cars for the north and west!"

"Ah, here we are!" cried John, hastily gathering up their satchels andinnumerable bundles. "We must make haste to reach the uptown omnibusto get a seat, or we shall have to stand and cling to the strap allthe way up. I'm an old traveler, you see. There's nothing like knowingthe 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 theyintended to pick her up and put her in the coach by main force. One ofthem 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 toride in your conveyance if you don't charge anything. We have nomoney. "

The loquacious hackmen fell back as if by magic. Daisy was blushinglike a rose, terribly embarrassed. John Brooks laughed long andheartily. 

"That's the quickest way in the world to rid yourself of thosetorments, " he declared, enjoying his little joke hugely. "Why, Daisy, if you had come on alone some of those chaps would have spirited youaway 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 pebbledwalk which led to the main entrance were tall fountains tossing theirrainbow-tinted sprays up to the summer sunshine. The lawn in front wasclosely shaven, and through the trees in the rear of the buildingcould be seen the broad rolling Chesapeake dancing and sparkling inthe sunlight. The reputation of this institution was second to none. Young ladies were justly proud of being able to say they finishedtheir education at Mme. Whitney's establishment. 

As a natural consequence, the school was composed of the _élite_ ofthe South. Clang! clang! clang! sounded the great bell from the belfryas Daisy, with a sinking, homesick feeling stealing over her, walkedslowly up the paved walk by John Brooks' side toward the imposing, aristocratic structure. 

Poor little Daisy never forgot that first day at boarding-school; howall the dainty young girls in their soft white muslins glanced insurprise at her when Mme. Whitney brought her into the school-room, but she could have forgiven them for that if they had not laughed ather poor old uncle John, in his plain country garb, and they giggledbehind their handkerchiefs when she clung to his neck and could notsay good-bye through her tears, but sunk down into her seat, leaningher head on her desk, bravely trying to keep back the pearly dropsthat would fall. 

When recess came Daisy did not leave her seat. She would have giventhe world to have heard Rex's voice just then; she was beginning torealize how much his sheltering love was to her. She would even havebeen heartily glad to have been back in the little kitchen at thecottage, no matter how much Septima scolded her. 

All the girls here had the same haughty way of tossing their heads andcurling 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 groupsand pairs here and there. Daisy sat watching them, feeling wretchedlylonely. 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 thegrounds with me? I should be so pleased to have you come. " The voicewas so gentle, so coaxing, so sweet, Daisy involuntarily glanced up atthe face of the young girl bending over her as she arose to accompanyher. She put her arm around Daisy's waist, school-girl fashion, asthey walked down the lone halls and out to the green grassy lawn. "Myname 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, rememberingRex, her own handsome Rex, had said the same thing that morning he hadcarried her heavy basket to the gates of Whitestone Hall--that morningwhen all the world seemed to change as she glanced up into his merrybrown eyes. 

"We are to be room-mates, " explained Sara, "and I know I shall likeyou 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 tolove you with all my might, and if you don't love me you will be themost ungrateful creature in the world. I know just how lonesome youmust be, " continued Sara. "I remember just how lonesome I was thefirst day I was away from mamma, and when night set in and I was allalone, and I knew I was securely locked in, I was actually thinking oftearing the sheets of my bed into strips and making a rope of them, and letting myself down to the ground through the window, and makingfor home as fast as I could. I knew I would be brought back the nextday, though, " laughed Sara. "Mamma is so strict with me. I supposeyours is too?"

"I have no mother--or father, " answered Daisy. "All my life I havelived with John Brooks and his sister Septima, on the HurlhurstPlantation. I call them aunt and uncle. Septima has often told me norelationship at all existed between us. "

"You are an orphan, then?" suggested the sympathetic Sara. "Is thereno one in all the world related to you?"

"Yes--no--o, " answered Daisy, confusedly, thinking of Rex, her younghusband, and of the dearest relationship in all the world whichexisted between them. 

"What a pity, " sighed Sara. "Well, Daisy, " she cried, impulsively, throwing both her arms around her and giving her a hearty kiss, "youand I will be all the world to each other. I shall tell you all mysecrets 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 youhave a spat your secret is a secret no longer. Every girl in theschool knows all about it; of course you are sure to make up again. But, " added Sara, with a wise expression, "after you are oncedeceived, you can never trust them again. "

"I have never known many girls, " replied Daisy. "I do not know howothers do, but I'm sure you can always trust my friendship. "

And the two girls sealed their compact with a kiss, just as the greatbell in the belfry rang, warning them they must be at their lessonsagain--recess was over. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

In one of the private offices of Messrs. Tudor, Peck & Co. , the shrewdBaltimore detectives, stood Rex, waiting patiently until the seniormember 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 motioningRex 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 thefair, boyish face of his visitor. "No, thank you, " he said, as Rextendered him an Havana; "I never smoke during business hours. "

"I wish to engage your services to find out the whereaboutsof--of--of--my wife, " said Rex, hesitatingly. "She has leftme--suddenly--she fled--on the very night of our marriage!"

It hurt Rex's pride cruelly to make this admission, and a painfulflush crept up into the dark rings of hair lying on his whiteforehead. 

Mr. Tudor was decidedly amazed. He could not realize how any saneyoung woman could leave so handsome a young fellow as the one beforehim. In most cases the shoe was on the other foot; but he was toothoroughly master of his business to express surprise in his face. Hemerely said:

"Go on, sir; go on!"

And Rex did go on, never sparing himself in describing how he urgedDaisy to marry him on the night of the fête, and of their parting, andthe solemn promise to meet on the morrow, and of his wild grief--morebitter 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 everycent 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 astone's throw from the very spot where he sat, and at that moment hewas nearer Daisy than he would be for perhaps years again, for thestrong 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 previouslover 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, idolatrousadoration, almost amounting to worship, and a love so intense issusceptible to the poisonous breath of jealousy, and jealousy ran inRex's veins. He could not endure the thought of Daisy's--hisDaisy's--eyes brightening or her cheek flushing at the approach of arival--that fair, flower-like face, sweet and innocent as achild's--Daisy, whom he so madly loved. 

"Well, " said Mr. Tudor, as Rex arose to depart, "I will do all I canfor you. Leave your address, please, in case I should wish tocommunicate with you. "

"I think I shall go back to Allendale, remaining there at least amonth or so. I have a strong conviction Daisy might come back, or atleast write to me there. "

Mr. Tudor jotted down the address, feeling actually sorry for thehandsome young husband clinging to such a frail straw of hope. In hisown mind, long before Rex had concluded his story, he had settled hisopinion--that from some cause the young wife had fled from him withsome rival, bitterly repenting her mad, hasty marriage. 

"I have great faith in your acknowledged ability, " said Rex, graspingMr. Tudor's outstretched hand. "I shall rest my hopes upon yourfinding Daisy. I can not, will not, believe she is false. I would assoon think of the light of heaven playing me false as my sweet littlelove!"

 * * * * *

The dark mantle of night had folded its dusky wings over the inmatesof the seminary. All the lights were out in the young ladies'rooms--as the nine-o'clock call, "All lights out!" had been calledsome ten minutes before--all the lights save one, flickering, dim, anduncertain, from Daisy's window. 

"Oh, dear!" cried Daisy, laying her pink cheek down on the letter shewas 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 Idid not come? Of course he went over to the cottage, " she mused, "andSeptima must have told him where I had gone. Rex will surely come forme to-morrow, " she told herself, with a sweet, shy blush. 

She read and reread the letter her trembling little hands had pennedwith 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 whichfilled her guileless heart for her handsome, debonair Rex--with manyallusions to the secret between them which weighed so heavily on herheart, sealing her lips for his dear sake. 

After sealing and directing her precious letter, and placing it in theletter-bag which hung at the lower end of the corridor, Daisy hurriedback 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--thecold, mocking face of Pluma Hurlhurst. 

Mme. Whitney, as was her custom, always looked over the out-goingmail early in the morning, sealing the letters of which she approved, and returning, with a severe reprimand, those which did not come up tothe standard of her ideas. 

"What is this?" she cried, in amazement, turning the letter Daisy hadwritten in her hand. "Why, I declare, it is actually sealed!" Withoutthe least compunction she broke the seal, grimly scanning its contentsfrom beginning to end. If there was anything under the sun the madameabominated it was love-letters. 

It was an established fact that no tender _billets-doux_ found theirway from the academy; the argus-eyed madame was too watchful forthat. 

With a lowering brow, she gave the bell-rope a hasty pull. 

"Jenkins, " she said to the servant answering her summons, "send MissBrooks to me here at once!"

"Poor little thing!" cried the sympathetic Jenkins to herself. "Iwonder what in the world is amiss now? There's fire in the madame'seye. 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 heardthe madame had sent for Daisy; while poor Daisy's hand trembledso--she could scarcely tell why--that she could hardly bind up thegolden curls that fell down to her waist in a wavy, shining sheen. 

Daisy never once dreamed her letter was the cause of her unexpectedsummons, until she entered Mme. Whitney's presence and saw itopened--yes, opened--her own sacred, loving letter to Rex--in herhand. 

Daisy was impulsive, and her first thought was to grasp her preciousletter and flee to her own room. How dared the madame open theprecious letter she had intended only for Rex's eyes!

"Miss Brooks, " began madame, impressively, "I suppose I am right inbelieving this epistle belongs to you?"

A great lump rose in Daisy's throat. 

"Yes, madame, " answered Daisy, raising her dark-blue eyes pleadinglyto the stern face before her. 

"And may I ask by what right you dared violate the rules andregulations of this establishment by sending a sealed letter to--aman? Your guardian strictly informed me you had no correspondentswhatever, and I find this is a--I blush to confess it--actually alove-letter. What have you to say in reference to your folly, MissBrooks?"

"I'm sure I don't know, " sobbed Daisy. 

"You don't know?" repeated madame, scornfully. "Not a very satisfactoryexplanation. Well, Miss Brooks, I have fully determined what steps Ishall take in the matter. I shall read this letter this morning beforethe whole school; it will afford me an excellent opportunity to pointout the horrible depths to which young girls are plunged by allowingtheir minds to wander from their books to such thoughts as are hereexpressed. What do you mean by this secret to which you allude sooften?" she asked, suddenly. 

"Please do not ask me, madame, " sobbed Daisy; "I can not tellyou--indeed I can not. I dare not!"

An alarming thought occurred to madame. 

"Speak, girl!" she cried, hoarsely, grasping her firmly by theshoulder. "I must know the meaning of this secret which is soappalling. You fear to reveal it! Does your guardian know of it?"

"No--o!" wailed Daisy; "I could not tell him. I must keep thesecret. "

Poor little innocent Daisy! her own words had convicted her beyond allpardon in the eyes of shrewd, suspicious Mme. Whitney, who guessed, asis usually the case, wide of the mark, as to the cause of the secretDaisy dare not to reveal to her guardian or herself. 

"My duty is plain in this case, " said madame. "I shall read this as aterrible warning to the young ladies of this institution; then I willsend for Mr. John Brooks, your guardian, and place this letter in hishands. "

"Oh, no, madame, in pity's name, no!" sobbed Daisy, wildly, kneelingimploringly at her feet, her heart beating tumultuously, and her handslocked convulsively together. "Do not, madame, I pray you; anythingbut that; he would cast me out of his heart and home, and I--I couldnot go to Rex, you see. "

But madame did not see. She laughed a little hard, metallic laugh thatgrated, oh, so cruelly, on Daisy's sensitive nerves. 

When one woman's suspicions are aroused against another, Heaven helpthe suspected one; there is little mercy shown her. 

"Man's inhumanity to man" is nothing compared to woman's inhumanity towoman. 

Mme. Whitney had discovered a capital way to score a hit in thedirection of morality. 

"No, " she said, laying the letter down on the table before her. "Arisefrom your knees, Miss Brooks. Your prayers are useless. I think thiswill be a life-long lesson to you. "

"Oh, madame, for the love of Heaven!" cried Daisy, rocking herself toand fro, "spare me, I beseech you! Can nothing alter your purpose?"

"Well, " said madame, reflectively, "I may not be quite so severe withyou if you will confess, unreservedly, the whole truth concerning thisterrible secret, and what this young man Rex is to you. "

"I can not, " wailed Daisy, "I can not. Oh, my heart is breaking, yet Idare not. "

"Very well, " said madame, rising, indicating the conversation was atan end, "I shall not press you further on the subject. I will excuseyou 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 causedher such bitter woe lay on the table almost within her very grasp--theletter, every line of which breathed of her pure, sacred love forRex--her Rex--whom she dared not even claim. She could imagine madamecommenting upon every word and sentence, ridiculing those tenderexpressions which had been such rapturous joy to her hungry littleheart as she had penned them. And, last of all, and far the mostbitter thought, how dear old John Brooks would turn his honest eyesupon her tell-tale face, demanding to know what the secret was--thesecret which she had promised her young husband she would not reveal, come what would. If his face should grow white and stern, and thoselips, which had blessed, praised, and petted, but never scoldedher--if those lips should curse her, she would die then and there athis 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 thecoveted letter from madame's detaining grasp; the door stood open, andwith the fleetness of a hunted deer she flew down the corridor, neverstopping for breath until she had gained the very water's edge. 

Mme. Whitney gave a loud shriek and actually fainted, and theattendant, who hurried to the scene, caught but a glimpse of a white, terrified, beautiful face, and a cloud of flying golden hair. No onein that establishment ever gazed upon the face of Daisy Brooks again!

CHAPTER IX. 

"Where is Miss Brooks?" cried Mme. Whitney, excitedly, upon openingher eyes. "Jenkins, " she cried, motioning to the attendant who stoodnearest her, "see that Miss Brooks is detained in her own room underlock and key until I am at liberty to attend to her case. "

The servants looked at one another in blank amazement. No one daredtell 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, andplaced 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 sufferkeenly for this outrage, " cried the madame, grinding her teeth withimpotent rage. "I shall drag her pride down to the very dust beneathmy feet. How dare the little rebel defy my orders? I shall have herremoved to the belfry-room; a night or two there will humble herpride, I dare say, " fumed the madame, pacing up and down the room. "Ihave brought worse tempers than hers into subjection; still I neverdreamed the little minx would dare openly defy _me_ in that manner. Ishall keep her in the belfry-room, under lock and key, until she asksmy pardon on her bended knees; and what is more, I shall wrest thesecret from her--the secret she has defied me to discover. "

 * * * * *

On sped Daisy, as swift as the wind, crushing the fatal letter in herbosom, until she stood at the very edge of the broad, glitteringChesapeake. The rosy-gold rays of the rising sun lighted up the waveswith a thousand arrowy sparkles like a vast sea of glittering, wavinggold. Daisy looked over her shoulder, noting the dark forms hurryingto and fro. 

"They are searching for me, " she said, "but I will never go back tothem--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 smallboat rocking to and fro with the tide. Daisy had a little boat of herown 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 littleskiff, and seizing the oars, with a vigorous stroke the little shellshot rapidly out into the shimmering water, Daisy never once pausingin her mad, impetuous flight until the dim line of the shore wasalmost indistinguishable from the blue arching dome of the horizon. "There, " she cried, flushed and excited, leaning on the oars; "no onecould possibly think of searching for me out here. "

Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes danced like stars, while thefreshening breeze blew her bright shining hair to and fro. 

Many a passing fisherman cast admiring glances at the charming littlefairy, so sweet and so daring, out all alone on the smiling, treacherous, dancing waves so far away from the shore. But if Daisysaw them, she never heeded them. 

"I shall stay here until it is quite dark, " she said to herself; "theywill have ceased to look for me by that time. I can reach the shorequite unobserved, and watch for Sara to get my hat and sacque; andthen"--a rosy flush stole up to the rings of her golden hair as shethought what she would do then--"I shall go straight back to Rex--myhusband!"

She knew John Brooks would not return home for some time to come, andshe would not go back to Septima. She made up her mind she wouldcertainly go to Rex. She would wait at the depot, and, if Rex did notcome 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 toDaisy--was luckily in her pocket, together with half of an apple and abiscuit. The healthful exercise of rowing, together with the fresh, cool breeze, gave Daisy a hearty appetite, and the apple and biscuitafforded her quite a pleasant lunch. 

Poor Daisy! The pretty little girl-bride had no more thought of dangerthan a child. She had no premonition that every moment the littleboat, drifting rapidly along with the tide, was bearing her rapidlyonward toward death and destruction. 

Daisy paid little heed to the dark rolling clouds that were slowlyobscuring the brilliant sunshine, or the swirl and dash of the wavesthat were rocking her little boat so restlessly to and fro. The hoursseemed to slip heedlessly by her. The soft gloaming seemed to fallabout her swiftly and without warning. 

"I must turn my boat about at once!" cried Daisy, in alarm. "I amquite a long way from the shore!"

At that moment the distant rumbling roar of thunder sounded dismallyover the leaden-gray, white-capped water; and the wind, risinginstantly into a fierce gale, hurled the dark storm-clouds across thesky, blotting the lurid glow of sunset and mantling the heavens aboveher in its dusky folds. 

Daisy was brave of heart, but in the face of such sudden andunlooked-for danger her courage failed her. The pretty rose-bloomdied away from her face, and her beautiful blue eyes expanded widewith terror. She caught her breath with a sob, and, seizing the oarwith two soft, childish hands, made a desperate attempt to turn theboat. The current resisted her weak effort, snapping the oar in twainlike a slender twig and whirling it from her grasp. 

"Rex! Rex!" she cried out, piteously, stretching out her arms, "saveme! 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 thelittle boat, and lashing the mad waves into seething foam as theydashed high above the terrified girl. No sound could be heard abovethe wild warring of the elements--the thunder's roar, the furiouslashing of the waves and the white, radiant lightning blazing acrossthe vast expanse of water, making the scene sublime in its terriblegrandeur. 

"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 ratherthan betray the sweet, sad secret--I am your wife!"

Was it the wild flashing of the lightning, or was it a red light shesaw swinging to and fro, each moment drawing rapidly nearer andnearer? Heaven be praised! it was a barge of some kind; help waswithin her reach. 

"Help!" cried Daisy, faintly. "Help! I am alone out on the water!" sheheld out her arms toward the huge vessel which loomed up darkly beforeher, but the terrified voice was drowned by the fierce beating of thestorm. 

Suddenly her little boat spun round and round, the swift water wasdrawing her directly in the path of the barge; another moment and itwould be upon her; she beat the air with her white hands, gazing withfrozen horror at the fatal lights drawing nearer and nearer. 

"Rex, my love, good-bye!" she wailed, sinking down in the bottom ofthe boat as one end of the barge struck it with tremendous force. 

 * * * * *

Leaning over the railing, evidently unmindful of the fierce furyof the storm that raged around him, stood a young man, gazingabstractedly over the wild dashing waves. A dark smile played aboutthe corners of his mouth, and his restless eyes wore a pleasedexpression, as though his thoughts were in keeping with the wild, warring elements. 

Suddenly, through the terrible roar of the storm, he heard a piteousappeal for help, and the voice seemed to die away over the angry, muttering waves. He leaned over the railing breathless withexcitement. The thunder crashed almost incessantly, and there came astunning bolt, followed by a blinding blaze of lightning. In that oneinstant he had seen a white, childish face, framed in a mass offloating 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 closedcruelly over her, but in that one instantaneous glance the man's facehad 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 lastchapter, Pluma Hurlhurst sat in her luxuriant boudoir of rose andgold, 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'smother, and the last--and by far the most important one--bore thesignature 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 redlips curling in a scornful smile. 

"This is capital!" she cried, exultingly; "even better than I hadplanned. I could not see my way clear before, but now everything isclear sailing. " She crossed over to the mirror, looking long andearnestly at the superb figure reflected there. "I am fair to lookupon, " she cried, bitterly. "Why can not Rex love me?"

Ah! she was fair to look upon, standing beneath the softened glow ofthe overhanging chandelier, in her dress of gold brocade, with apomegranate blossom on her bosom, and a diamond spray flashing fromthe dark, glossy curls, magnificently beautiful. 

"I was so sure of Rex, " she said, bitterly; "if any one had said tome, 'Rex prefers your overseer's niece, Daisy Brooks, with her babyface and pink-and-white beauty, ' I would have laughed them to scorn. Prefers her to me, the haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, for whoselove, or even smile, men have sued in vain! I have managed the wholeaffair very cleverly!" she mused. "John Brooks does not return beforethe coming spring, and Septima is removed from my path mosteffectually, and if Lester Stanwick manages his part successfully, Ishall have little to fear from Daisy Brooks! How clever Lester was tolearn Rex had been to the Detective Agency! How he must have lovedthat girl!" she cried, hotly, with a darkening brow. "Ah, Rex!" shewhispered, softly (and for an instant the hard look died out of herface), "no one shall take you from me. I would rather look upon yourface cold in death, and know no one else could claim you, than see yousmile lovingly upon a rival. There is no torture under heaven sobitter to endure as the pangs of a love unreturned!" she cried, fiercely. She threw open the window and leaned far out into theradiant starlight, as the great clock pealed the hour of seven. "Rexhas received my note, " she said, "with the one from his motherinclosed. Surely he will not refuse my request. He will come, if onlythrough politeness!" Again she laughed, that low, mocking laughpeculiar to her, as she heard the peal of the bell. "It is Rex, " shewhispered, clasping her hands over her beating heart. "To-night I willsow the first seeds of distrust in your heart, and when they take rootyou shall despise Daisy Brooks a thousand-fold more than you love hernow. She shall feel the keen thrust of a rival's bitter vengeance!"

Casting a last lingering glance (so woman-like!) at the perfect facethe mirror reflected, to give her confidence in herself for the comingordeal, Pluma Hurlhurst glided down to the parlor, where Rex awaitedher. 

It would have been hard to believe the proud, willful, polished youngheiress could lend herself to a plot so dark and so cruel as the oneshe was at that moment revolving in her fertile brain. 

Rex was standing at the open window, his handsome head leaning wearilyagainst the casement. His face was turned partially toward her, andPluma could scarcely repress the cry of astonishment that rose to herlips 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, jeweledhand 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 atthat moment kneeling to him, under the glare of the lamp-light, confessing her love for him, and denouncing poor little clinging Daisywith such bitter scorn. His present position was certainly anembarrassing 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 hisarm. 

"You are very kind, " she said, sweetly, "to forget that unpleasantlittle episode that happened at the fête, and come to-night. I believeI should never have sent for you, " she added, archly, smiling up intohis face, "had it not been at the urgent request of your mother, Rex. "

Pluma hesitated. Rex bit his lip in annoyance, but he was toocourteous to openly express his thoughts; he merely bowed again. Hemeant Pluma should understand all thoughts of love or tenderness mustforever more be a dead letter between them. 

"My mother!" he repeated, wonderingly; "pardon me, I do notunderstand. "

For answer she drew his mother's letter from her bosom and placed itin his hands. 

He ran his eyes quickly over the page. The postscript seemed toenlighten him. 

"The course of true love never runs smooth, " it ran, "and I beseechyou, Pluma dear, if anything should ever happen, any shadow fall uponyour love, I beseech you send for Rex and place this letter in hishands. It would not be unwomanly, Pluma, because I, his mother, soearnestly request it; for, on your love for each other hangs my hopesof happiness. Rex is impulsive and willful, but he will respect hismother's wishes. "

No thought of treachery ever crossed Rex's mind as he read the linesbefore him; he never once dreamed the ingeniously worded postscripthad been so cleverly imitated and added by Pluma's own hand. It neveroccurred to him for an instant to doubt the sincerity of the words heread, when he knew how dearly his mother loved the proud, haughtyheiress before him. 

"I heard you were going away, Rex, " she said, softly, "and I--I couldnot let you go so, and break my own heart. "

"In one sense, I am glad you sent for me, " said Rex, quietly ignoringher last remark. "I shall be much pleased to renew our friendship, Miss Pluma, for I need your friendship--nay, more, I need yoursympathy and advice more than I can express. I have always endeavoredto be frank with you, Pluma, " he said, kindly. "I have never spokenwords which might lead you to believe I loved you. "

He saw her face grow white under his earnest gaze and the white laceon her bosom rise and fall convulsively, yet she made him no answer. 

"Please permit me to tell you why, Pluma, " he said, taking her handand 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 knewwhat love was, " he said, softly, "until the night of the fête. " Againhe paused; but, as no answer was vouchsafed him, he went on: "I neverknew what love meant until I met Daisy--little Daisy Brooks. "

"Rex!" cried Pluma, starting to her feet, "you know not what yousay--surely you do not know! I would have warned you, but you wouldnot listen. I saw you drifting toward a yawning chasm; I stretched outmy arms to save you, but you would not heed me. You are a stranger tothe people around here, Rex, or they would have warned you. Sin isnever so alluring as in the guise of a beautiful woman. It is not toolate yet. Forget Daisy Brooks; she is not a fit companion for nobleRex Lyon, or pure enough to kiss an honest man's lips. "

"For God's sake, Miss Hurlhurst, what do you mean?" cried Rex, slowlyrising 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 aman had uttered those words, I would have--"

The words died away on his lips; he remembered he was talking to awoman. Rex's eyes fairly glowed with rage as he turned on his heel andstrode rapidly up and down the room. 

"Rex, " said Pluma, softly advancing a step toward him, "it alwaysgrieves a true woman to admit the error of a fallen sister--they wouldshield her if such a thing were possible. "

"I do not believe it, " retorted Rex, impetuously. "Women seem to takea keen delight in slandering one another, as far as I can see. But youmight as well tell me yonder moon was treacherous and vile as to tellme Daisy Brooks was aught but sweet and pure--you could not force meto believe it. "

"I do not attempt to force you to believe it. I have told you thetruth, as a loving sister might have done. None are so blind as thosewho will not see, " she said, toying with the jewels upon her whitefingers. 

"Daisy Brooks is as pure as yonder lily, " cried Rex, "and I love heras 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 fromher 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 inher lace kerchief, "because she can never return your love; she doesnot love you, Rex. "

"Yes, she does love me, " cried Rex. "I have settled it beyond adoubt. "

"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 glitterin 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'sname, tell me! I can not endure the suspense--do not torture me, Pluma! I will forget you have spoken unkindly of poor little Daisy ifyou will only tell me where she has gone. "

"Sit down, Rex, " she said, soothingly; "I will not dare tell you whileyou look at me with such a gleaming light in your eyes. Promise not tointerrupt me to the end. "

A nameless dread was clutching at his heart-strings. What could shemean? 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. "Igive you my word, as a gentleman, I shall not interrupt you, eventhough your words should cause me a bitter heart-pang. "

He stood before her, his arms folded across his breast, yet no pang ofremorse crept into Pluma Hurlhurst's relentless heart for the cruelblow she was about to deal him. 

"I must begin at the time of the lawn fête, " she said. "That morninga woman begged to see me, sobbing so piteously I could not refuseher an audience. No power of words could portray the sad story ofsuffering and wrong she poured into my ears, of a niece--beautiful, young, passionate, and willful--and of her prayers and uselessexpostulations, and of a handsome, dissolute lover to whom thegirl was passionately attached, and of elopements she had frustrated, alas! more than once. Ah! how shall I say it!--the lover was not amarrying man. "

Pluma stopped short, and hid her face again in her kerchief as if inutter confusion. 

"Go on--go on!" cried Rex, hoarsely. 

"'Lend me money, ' cried the woman, 'that I may protect the girl bysending her off to school at once. Kind lady, she is young, likeyou, and I beg you on my knees!' I gave the woman the requiredamount, and the girl was taken to school the very next day. But theend was not there. The lover followed the girl--there must have beena preconcerted plan between them--and on the morning after she hadentered school she fled from it--fled with her lover. That loverwas Lester Stanwick--gay, fascinating, perfidious Lester--whom youknow but too well. Can you not guess who the girl was, Rex?"

The dark eyes regarding her were frozen with horror, his white lipsmoved, but no sound issued from them. She leaned nearer to him, herdark, perfumed hair swept across his face as she whispered, withstartling effect:

"The girl was Daisy Brooks, and she is at this moment in company withher 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 whitebed, and in a strange apartment which she never remembered having seenbefore. For one brief instant she quite imagined the terrible ordealthrough which she had passed was but a dream. Then it all came back toher with cruel distinctness. 

"Where am I?" she cried, struggling up to a sitting posture, andputting 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 openwindow. "I saved your life at the risk of my own. Look up into myface, Daisy, and see if you do not remember me. "

She lifted her blue eyes to the dark, handsome, smiling face beforeher. Yes, she had seen that face before, but she could not rememberwhere. 

He laughed, disclosing his handsome white teeth. 

"You can not guess, eh?" he said. "Then it is certainly evident I didnot make much of an impression upon you. I am disappointed. I will notkeep you in suspense, however. We met at Whitestone Hall, on the nightof the lawn fête, and my name is Lester Stanwick. "

Ah, she _did_ remember him, standing beneath a waving palm-tree, hisbold, dark eyes following her every motion, while she was waltzingwith Rex. 

He saw the flash of recognition in her eyes, and the blush thatmantled her fair, sweet face. 

"I am very grateful to you, sir, for saving me. But won't you take mehome, 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 leftit 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, hemerely 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 blueeyes dilating with fear. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, what shall I do? I do notwant to go back. I would sooner die first. "

"There is no occasion for you to do either, " he replied. "You are ingood hands. Stay here until the storm blows over. In all probabilitythe madame has sent detectives out in all directions searching foryou. "

Daisy was so young, so unsuspecting, so artless, and knew so little ofthe ways of the world or its intriguing people that she quite believedhis 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 meantJohn Brooks and Septima. 

"It is quite uncertain when John Brooks returns to Allendale, " hesaid; "and I suppose you are aware his sister has also left theplace--gone, no one knows whither--the Brookses' cottage on the browof 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 Daisyquite believed she was losing her senses. 

"Yes, " said Stanwick, smothering a low, malicious laugh, "that is whatI said; but I am quite surprised that it is news to you. You are allalone in the world, you see. Of course you could not go back toAllendale. You can do no better than stay in your present quarters forat least a week or so, until you fully recover from your mad frolic onthe water and gain a little strength. "

 * * * * *

"Where am I?" asked Daisy, "and how did I get here? and who liveshere?"

"One question at a time, if you please, " laughed Stanwick, gazingadmiringly at the beautiful, questioning, eager face. 

"I suppose, " he began, with provoking coolness, "you have been fillingthat little head of yours with romantic ideas of running away fromschool, and sailing far out to sea, and straight into the arms of somehandsome hero who would save you, and would carry you off to somecastle, and turn out to be a prince in disguise! That's the way theyusually turn out, isn't it? But you found the theory did not work verywell in real life, and your little romance came near costing you yourlife--eh, Miss Daisy? As for the second question, I rescued you, justin the nick of time, by jumping into the turbulent waves and bearingyou out of harm's way and keeping that little romantic head of yoursabove water until the barge could be stopped, and you were thenbrought on board. I recognized you at once, " he continued; "and toprevent suspicion and inquiry, which would have been sure to follow, Iclaimed 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 toprotect you from being returned at once in bitter disgrace to MadameWhitney's. Not knowing what else to do with you when the boat landed, I brought you here, and here you have been ever since, quiteunconscious 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 twodays. "

"But who lives here?" persisted Daisy. "Is this your house?"

"Oh, dear, no, " laughed Stanwick. "Upon my honor, you are not verycomplimentary to my taste, " he said, glancing around the meagerlyfurnished apartment. "As near as I can understand it, the house isoccupied by three grim old maids. Each looks to be the twin of theother. This was the first shelter I could find, and I had carried youall the way from the boat in my arms, and under the circumstances, after much consulting, they at last agreed to allow you to remainhere. Now you have the whole story in a nutshell. "

"Why did they not send to Septima to come to me?" she askedpresently. 

"Because they thought you were with your best protector--yourhusband. "

"Did you tell them that here, too?" asked Daisy, growing white and illwith a dizzy horror. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, send for them at once, andtell them it is not so, or I must!" she added, desperately. 

"You must do nothing of the kind, you silly child. Do you suppose theywould have sheltered you for a single instant if they had not believedyou 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 fromthere. When you are well and strong you may go where you please, although I frankly own the situation is by no means an unpleasant onefor me. I would be willing to stay here always--with you. "

"Sir!" cried Daisy, flushing as red as the climbing roses against thewindow, her blue eyes blazing up with sudden fire, "do you mean toinsult me?"

"By no means, " responded Lester Stanwick, eagerly. "Indeed, I respectand 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 verytruth 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 youplease go away now and leave me to myself?"

_Roué_ and villain as Lester Stanwick was, he could not help feelingtouched by the innocence and beauty of little Daisy, and from thatinstant he loved her with a wild, absorbing, passionate love, and hemade a vow, then and there, that he would win her. 

From their boyhood up Rex and Lester had been rivals. At college Rexhad carried off the honors with flying colors. Pluma Hurlhurst, thewealthy heiress, had chosen Rex in preference to himself. He stoodlittle chance with bright-eyed maidens compared with handsome, careless, winning Rex Lyon. 

Quite unobserved, he had witnessed the meeting between Rex and Daisyat the fountain, and how tenderly he clasped her in his arms as theywaltzed together in the mellow light, to the delicious strains of the"Blue Danube, " and knowing Rex as well as he did, he knew for thefirst 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 aloneprompted him--now he was beginning to experience the sweet thrillingsof awakened love himself. Yes, he had learned to love Daisy for herown sweet self. 

He smiled as he thought of the last words Pluma Hurlhurst had said tohim: "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 draggedmine, and you shall have my hand as your reward. My father is aninvalid--he can not live much longer--then you will be master ofWhitestone Hall. " As he had walked down the broad gravel path, runninghis eye over the vast plantation stretching afar on all sides, like afield of snow, as the moonlight fell upon the waving cotton, he ownedto himself it was a fair domain well worth the winning. 

But as he stood there, gazing silently down upon little Daisy'sface--how strange it was--he would have given up twenty suchinheritances for the hope of making sweet little Daisy Brooks hiswife. 

It was well for Daisy Brooks he little dreamed of the great barrierwhich lay between them, shutting him out completely from all thoughtsof love in Daisy's romantic heart. 

CHAPTER XII. 

"Please go away, " sobbed Daisy. "Leave me to myself, and I will getup. "

"Very well, " said Stanwick, involuntarily raising her little whitehands courteously to his lips; "and remember, I warn you, for your ownsake, not to dispute the assertion I have made--that you are mywife. "

"Why?" asked Daisy, wistfully. "They will forgive me when I tell themhow it all came about. "

"You do not know women's ways, " he replied. "They would hand you overat once to the authorities; you would bring disgrace and ruin uponyour own head, and bitter shame to John Brooks's heart. I know himwell 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 goingaway with your husband. No one will think of detaining you; you willbe free as the wind to go where you will. It will cost you but a fewwords. Remember, there are occasions when it is necessary toprevaricate in order to prevent greater evils--this is one of them. "

Daisy could not dispute this specious logic, and she suffered herselfto be persuaded against her will and better judgment. She wasdreadfully homesick, poor little soul! and to go back to Allendale, toRex, was the one wish of her heart. But would he clasp her in his armsif a shadow of disgrace blotted her fair name? She would go back tohim 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 haddone right. 

At that moment the door of an adjoining room opened, and Lesterobserved the three ladies standing in a row in the door-way. He knewthat three pairs of eyes were regarding him intently through as manypairs of blue glasses. 

"Good-bye, my little wife, " he said, raising his voice for theirbenefit; "I'm off now. I shall see you again to-morrow;" and, beforeDaisy had the least idea of his intentions, he had pressed a kiss uponher rosy lips and was gone. 

The three ladies quickly advanced to the couch upon which Daisyreclined. 

"We are very glad to find you are so much better this morning, " theyexclaimed, all in a breath. "Your husband has been almost dementedabout you, my dear. "

They wondered why the white face on the pillow turned so pink, thenfaded to a dead white, and why the tear-drops started to her beautifulblue eyes. 

"I was telling my sisters, " pursued one of the ladies, softly, "youwere so young to be married--hardly more than a child. How old areyou, 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 thesisters. 

A great sob rose in Daisy's throat as she remembered it was just aweek that very day since she had stood in the dim old parlor at therectory, while Rex clasped her hands, his handsome, smiling eyesgazing so lovingly down upon her, while the old minister spoke thewords that bound them for life to each other. It almost seemed toDaisy that long years had intervened, she had passed through so muchsince then. 

"Just a week to-day, madame, " she made answer. 

"Why, you are a bride, then, " they all chorused. "Ah! that accountsfor your husband's great anxiety about you. We all agreed we had neverseen a husband more devoted!"

Daisy hid her face in the pillow. She thought she would go mad uponbeing so cruelly misunderstood. Oh! if she had only dared throwherself 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, goldencurls, declaring to one another the pretty little creature looked morelike a merry, rosy-cheeked school-girl than a little bride-wife, inher pink-and-white dotted muslin, which they had in the meantime doneup for her with their own hands. 

They wondered, too, why she never asked for her husband, and shelooked almost ready to faint when they spoke of him. 

"There seems to be something of a mystery here, " remarked one ofthe 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 afellow-creature--Heaven forbid! but I am sorely afraid all is notright with her. Twice this afternoon, entering the room quietly, Ihave found her lying face downward on the sofa, crying as if herheart would break! I am sorely puzzled!"

And the flame of suspicion once lighted was not easily extinguished inthe 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; 'justDaisy--nothing else. '

"'Certainly, my dear, if you wish it, ' I replied. 'There is onequestion I would like to ask you, Daisy--you have told me your motheris dead?'

"'Yes, ' she said, leaning her golden head against the window, andwatching the white clouds overhead in the blue sky--'my poor, dearmother is dead!'

"'Then will you answer me truthfully the question I am about to askyou, 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 eyesmet mine unflinchingly. 

"'Yes, madame, I am, in the sight of God and man; but I am such anunhappy one. I can not tell you why. My heart is breaking. I want togo 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 creaturedrew from her pocket a twenty-dollar bill. 

"'You have been kind and good to me, ' she said. I must take enough tocarry me back to Allendale. You shall have all the rest, madame. '

"'Put your money back into your pocket, Daisy, ' I replied. 'Yourhusband has already paid your bill. He begged me to accept it inadvance on the night you came. '

"She gave a great start, and a flood of hot color rushed over herface. 

"'I--I--did not know, ' she said, faintly, 'how very good Mr. Stanwickhas been to me. '"

The three sisters looked at one another in silent wonder over the rimsof their spectacles and shook their heads ominously. 

 * * * * *

Dear reader, we must return at this period to Rex--poor, broken-heartedRex--whom we left in the company of Pluma Hurlhurst in the spaciousparlor of Whitestone Hall. 

"Daisy Brooks is at this moment with Lester Stanwick! You must learnto forget her, Rex, " she repeated, slowly. 

A low cry escaped from Rex's lips, and he recoiled from her as thoughshe had struck him a heavy blow. His heart seemed fairly stifled inhis bosom, and he trembled in every limb with repressed excitement. 

"Here is a letter from Madame Whitney, " she continued. "Read it foryourself, Rex. You see, she says: 'Daisy fled. It has been sinceascertained she went to Elmwood, a station some sixty miles from here, where she now is, at the cottage of the Burton sisters, in companywith her lover. I shall not attempt to claim her--her retribution mustcome 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 foulconspiracy against you, my little sweetheart, my darling love!"

He rose to his feet with a deep-drawn sigh, his teeth shut close, hisheart beating with great strangling throbs of pain. Strong and braveas Rex was, this trouble was almost more than he could bear. 

"Where are you going, Rex?" said Pluma, laying a detaining hand uponhis arm. 

"I am going to Elmwood, " he cried, bitterly, "to prove this accusationis a cruel falsehood. Daisy has no lover; she is as sweet and pure asHeaven 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, anda cold, cruel smile flitting across her face, while she murmured underher breath: "Go, fond, foolish lover; your fool's paradise will berudely shattered--ay, your hopes crushed worse than mine are now, foryour lips can not wear a smile like mine when your heart is breaking. Good-bye, Rex, " she said, "and remember, in the hour when sorrowstrikes you keenest, turn to me; my friendship is true, and shallnever fail you. "

Rex bowed coldly and turned away; his heart was too sick for emptywords, and the heavy-hearted young man, who slowly walked down thegraveled path away from Whitestone Hall in the moonlight, was aslittle like the gay, handsome Rex of one short week ago as could wellbe imagined. 

There was the scent of roses and honeysuckles in the soft wind; andsome sweet-voiced bird awakened from sleep, and fancying it was day, swung to and fro amid the green foliage, filling the night withmelody. The pitying stars shone down upon him from the moonlightedheavens; but the still, solemn beauty of the night was lost upon Rex. He regretted--oh! so bitterly--that he had parted from his sweetlittle girl-bride, fearing his mother's scornful anger, or through asense of mistaken duty. 

"Had they but known little Daisy is my wife, they would have known howimpossible 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 schoolamused him. 

"Poor little robin!" he murmured. "No wonder she flew from her bondagewhen she found the cage-door open! How pleased the little gypsy willbe to see me!" he mused. "I will clasp the dear little runaway in myarms, and never let her leave me again! Mother could not help lovingmy little Daisy if she were once to see her, and sister Birdie wouldtake to her at once. "

The next morning broke bright and clear; the sunshine drifted throughthe green foliage of the trees, and crimson-breasted robins sungtheir sweetest songs in the swaying boughs of the blossomingmagnolias; pansies and buttercups gemmed the distant hill-slope, andnature's fountain--a merry, babbling brook--danced joyously throughthe clover banks. No cloud was in the fair, blue, smiling heavens; novoice of nature warned poor little Daisy, as she stood at the openwindow drinking in the pure, sweet beauty of the morning of the darkclouds which were gathering over her innocent head, and of the stormwhich was so soon to burst upon her in all its fury. Daisy turned awayfrom the window with a little sigh. She did not see a handsome, stalwart figure hurrying down the hill-side toward the cottage. Howher heart would have throbbed if she had only known Rex (for it washe) was so near her! With a strangely beating heart he advanced towardthe little wicket gate, at which stood one of the sisters, busilyengaged pruning her rose-bushes. 

"Can you tell me, madame, where I can find the Misses Burton'scottage?" 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, Ibelieve?" he said, questioningly. "May I come in?"

Rex's handsome, boyish face and winning smile won their way straightto the old lady's heart at once. 

"Perhaps you are the young lady's brother, sir? There is evidentlysome mistake, however, as the young lady's name is Stanwick--DaisyStanwick. Her husband, Lester Stanwick--I believe that is the name--isalso in Elmwood. "

All the color died out of Rex's handsome face and the light from hisbrown eyes. He leaned heavily against the gate-post. The words seemedshrieked 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 wordsfor it. There may be some mistake, as you say, " she said, soothingly, noting the death-like despair that settled over the noble face. "Sheis a pretty, fair, winsome little creature, blue-eyed, and curlinggolden hair, and lives at Allendale. She is certainly married. I willcall her. She shall tell you so herself. Daisy--Mrs. Stanwick--comehere, dear, " she called. 

"I am coming, Miss Ruth, " answered a sweet, bird-like voice, whichpierced poor Rex's heart to the very core as a girlish little figurebounded through the open door-way, out into the brilliant sunshine. 

"God pity me!" cried Rex, staggering forward. "It _is_ Daisy--mywife!"

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 withStanwick--or I shall go mad! Daisy, my dear little sweetheart, mylittle love, why don't you speak?" he cried, clasping her close to hisheart and covering her face and hair and hands with passionate, rapturous kisses. 

Daisy struggled out of his embrace, with a low, broken sob, flingingherself on her knees at his feet with a sharp cry. 

"Daisy, " said the old lady, bending over her and smoothing back thegolden 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 Daisyseemed 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 anothervoice 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 herthroat. She saw him recoil from her with a look of white, frozenhorror on his face which gave place to stern, bitter wrath. Slowly andsadly he put her clinging arms away from him, folding his arms acrosshis breast with that terrible look upon his face such as a hero's facewears when he has heard, unflinchingly, his death sentence--the calmof terrible despair. 

"Daisy, " he said, proudly, "I have trusted you blindly, for I lovedyou madly, passionately. I would as soon believe the fair smilingheavens that bend above us false as you whom I loved so madly and sowell. I was mad to bind you with such cruel, irksome bonds when yourheart 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 forgiveyou, Daisy, for I never can! I give you back your freedom; I releaseyou from your vows; I can not curse you--I have loved you too well forthat; 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 theangels to bear witness and proclaim her innocence! The strength tomove 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. Shefelt as one in a horrible trance, fearfully, terribly conscious of allthat transpired around her, yet denied the power to move even a muscleto defend herself. 

"Have you anything to say to me, Daisy?" he asked, mournfully, turningfrom her to depart. 

The woful, terrified gaze of the blue eyes deepened pitifully, but shespoke no word, and Rex turned from her--turned from the girl-bridewhom he loved so madly, with a bursting, broken heart, more bitter tobear than death itself--left her alone with the pitying sunlightfalling 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 guideher, no father's strong breast to weep upon, no sister's soothingpresence. She was so young and so pitifully lonely, and Rex haddrifted out of her life forever, believing her--oh, bitterest ofthoughts!--believing her false and sinful. 

Poor little Daisy was ignorant of the ways of the world; but a dimrealization of the full import of the terrible accusation broughtagainst her forced its way to her troubled brain. 

She only realized--Rex--her darling Rex, had gone out of her lifeforever. 

Daisy flung herself face downward in the long, cool, waving greengrass where Rex had left her. 

"Daisy, " called Miss Burton, softly, "it is all over; come into thehouse, my dear. "

But she turned from her with a shuddering gasp. 

"In the name of pity, leave me to myself, " she sobbed; "it is thegreatest kindness you can do me. "

And the poor old lady who had wrought so much sorrow unwittingly inthose two severed lives, walked slowly back to the cottage, with tearsin her eyes, strongly impressed there must be some dark mystery in theyoung girl's life who was sobbing her heart out in the green grassyonder; and she did just what almost any other person would have doneunder the same circumstances--sent immediately for Lester Stanwick. He answered the summons at once, listening with intense interest whilethe aged spinster briefly related all that had transpired; but throughoversight or excitement she quite forgot to mention Rex had calledDaisy his wife. 

"Curse him!" he muttered, under his breath, "I--I believe the girlactually cares for him. "

Then he went out to Daisy, lying so still and lifeless among the pinkclover and waving grass. 

Poor Daisy! Poor, desperate, lonely, struggling child! All this cruelload of sorrow, crushing her girlish heart, and blighting her younglife, and she so innocent, so entirely blameless, yet such a playthingof fate. 

"Daisy, " he said, bending over her and lifting the slight form in hisarms, "they tell me some one has been troubling you. Who has daredannoy you? Trust in me, Daisy. What is the matter?"

Lester Stanwick never forgot the white, pitiful face that was raisedto his. 

"I want to die, " she sobbed. "Oh, why did you not leave me to die inthe 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 notmy every word and glance tell you why?" The bold glance in his eyesspoke 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, " shestammered. 

"Why not?" he demanded, a merciless smile stirring beneath his heavymustache. "I consider that you belong to me. I mean to make you mywife 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 ashenpale. 

"Oh, go away, go away!" she cried out. "I am growing afraid of you. Icould never marry you, and I would not if I could. I shall always begrateful to you for what you have done for me, but, oh, go away, andleave me now, for my trouble is greater than I can bear!"

"You would not if you could, " he repeated, coolly, smiling sostrangely her blood seemed to change to ice in her veins. "I thank yousincerely for your appreciation of me. I did not dream, however, youraversion 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 shalltake 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 Rexhad left her--she was never to look upon his face again. He had lefther to the cold mercies of a cruel world. Poor little Daisy--theunhappy, heart-broken girl-bride--sat there wondering what else couldhappen to her. "God has shut me out from His mercy, " she cried; "thereis nothing for me to do but to die. "

"I am a desperate man, Daisy, " pursued Stanwick, slowly. "My will ismy law. The treatment you receive at my hands depends entirely uponyourself--you will not dare defy me!" His eyes fairly glowed with astrange fire that appalled her as she met his passionate glance. 

Then Daisy lifted up her golden head with the first defiance she hadever shown, the deathly pallor deepening on her fair, sweet, flower-like face, and the look of a hunted deer at bay in thebeautiful velvety agonized eyes, as she answered:

"I refuse to marry you, Mr. Stanwick. Please go away and leave me inpeace. "

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 inreadiness to receive me then; I shall not come alone, but bring withme a minister, who will be prepared to marry us. I warn you not toattempt to run away, " he said, interpreting aright the startled glanceshe cast about her. "In yonder lane stands a trusty sentinel to seethat you do not leave this house. You have been guarded thus since youentered this house; knowing your proclivity to escape impendingdifficulties, I have prepared accordingly. You can not escape yourfate, my little wild flower!"

"No minister would marry an unwilling bride--he could not. I wouldfling 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, resolutelook settling on his face. "I would have preferred winning you by fairmeans, if possible; if you make it impossible I shall be forced to adesperate measure. I had not intended adopting such stringentmeasures, except in an extreme case. Permit me to explain what I shalldo to prevent you from making the slightest outcry. " As he spoke hedrew from his pocket a small revolver heavily inlaid with pearl andsilver. "I shall simply hold this toy to your pretty forehead toprevent a scene. The minister will be none the wiser--he is blind? Doyou think, " he continued, slowly, "that I am the man to give up athing 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 untilI hate you?"

"I will marry you this very day, Daisy Brooks, whether you hate me orlove 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 withher hands; "do not hope it--and the more you talk to me the less Ilike you. I wish you would go away. "

"I shall not despair, " said Stanwick, with a confident smile. "I likethings which I find it hard to obtain--that was always one of mycharacteristics--and I never liked you so well as I like you now, inyour defiant anger, and feel more determined than ever to make you myown. "

Suddenly a new thought occurred to him as he was about to turn fromher. 

"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 materiallyby taking you to the parsonage. We can go from here directly to thestation. 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 wellacquainted with your history, you see. " He kissed his finger-tips toher 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-borderedpath on his fatal errand. 

In the distance the little babbling brook sung to her of peace andrest beneath its curling, limpid waters. 

"Oh, mother, mother, " she cried, "what was the dark sorrow thattortured your poor brain, till it drove you mad--ay, mad--ending indeath and despair? Why did you leave your little Daisy here to sufferso? I feel such a throbbing in my own poor brain--but I must flyanywhere, anywhere, to escape this new sorrow. God has forgotten me. "She took one step forward in a blind, groping, uncertain way. "My lastray of hope has died out, " she cried as the memory of his cruel wordscame slowly back to her, so mockingly uttered--"the minister would benone the wiser--he is blind. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

When Lester Stanwick returned to the cottage he found that quite anunexpected turn of events had transpired. Miss Burton had gone out toDaisy--she lay so still and lifeless in the long green grass. 

"Heaven bless me!" she cried, in alarm, raising her voice to a pitchthat brought both of the sisters quickly to her side. "Matilda, go atonce and fetch the doctor. See, this child is ill, her cheeks areburning scarlet and her eyes are like stars. "

At that opportune moment they espied the doctor's carriage proceedingleisurely along the road. 

"Dear me, how lucky, " cried Ruth, "Doctor West should happen alongjust now. Go to the gate, quick, Matilda, and ask him to stop. "

The keen eyes of the doctor, however, had observed the figure lying onthe grass and the frantic movements of the three old ladies bendingover 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 thebeautiful flushed face of the young girl lying among the blueharebells at his feet. 

"I am afraid this is a serious case, " he said, thoughtfully, placinghis cool hand on her burning forehead; "the child has all the symptomsof brain fever in its worst form, brought on probably through somegreat excitement. " The three ladies looked at one another meaningly. "She must be taken into the house and put to bed at once, " hecontinued, authoritatively, lifting the slight figure in his strongarms, and gazing pityingly down upon the beautiful flushed face framedin its sheen of golden hair resting against his broad shoulders. 

The doctor was young and unmarried and impressible; and the strangestsensation he had ever experienced thrilled through his heart as theblue, flaring eyes met his and the trembling red lips incoherentlybeseeched him to save her, hide her somewhere, anywhere, before thefifteen minutes were up. 

A low muttered curse burst from Stanwick's lips upon his return, as hetook in the situation at a single glance. 

As Daisy's eyes fell upon Stanwick's face she uttered a piteous littlecry:

"Save me from him--save me!" she said, hysterically, growing rapidlyso 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. Iam in an uncomfortable dilemma. I must go, yet I can not leave my--mywife. She must be removed, doctor; can you not help me to arrange itin some way?"

"No, sir, " cried the doctor, emphatically; "she can not be removed. Asher physician, I certainly would not give my consent to such aproceeding; her very life would pay the forfeit. "

For a few moments Lester Stanwick paced up and down the hall lost indeep thought; his lips were firmly set, and there was a determinedgleam in his restless black eyes. Suddenly he stopped short directlybefore the doctor, who stood regarding him with no very agreeableexpression in his honest gray eyes. 

"How long will it be before the crisis is past--that is, how long willit 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--" Hebit his lip savagely, as if he had been on the point of disclosingsome guarded secret. "Fate is against me, " he said, "in more ways thanone; these things can not be avoided, I suppose. Well, doctor, as I amforced to leave to-day I shall leave her in your charge. I will returnin 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?" hecontinued, anxiously. 

"I can safely promise that, " replied the doctor, wondering at thestrange, satisfied smile that flitted like a meteor over hiscompanion's face for one brief instant. 

"This will defray her expenses in the meantime, " he said, putting afew crisp bank-notes into the doctor's hand. "See that she has everyluxury. "

He was about to re-enter the room where Daisy lay, but the doctor heldhim back. 

"I should advise you to remain away for the present, " he said, "yourpresence produces such an unpleasant effect upon her. Wait until shesleeps. "

"I have often thought it so strange people in delirium shrink so fromthose they love best; I can not understand it, " said Stanwick, with anodd, forced laugh. "As you are the doctor, I suppose your orders mustbe obeyed, however. If the fever should happen to take an unfavorableturn in the meantime, please drop a line to my address, 'care of MissPluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, Allendale, '" he said, extendinghis card. "It will be forwarded to me promptly, and I can come on atonce. "

Again the doctor nodded, putting the card safely away in his wallet, and soon after Lester Stanwick took his departure, roundly cursing hisluck, yet congratulating himself upon the fact that Daisy could notleave Elmwood--he could rest content on that score. 

Meanwhile the three venerable sisters and the young doctor werewatching 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 thewrinkled hand that held hers. "Hide me, please, just as if I were yourown child; I have no mother, you know. "

"God help the pretty, innocent darling!" cried the doctor, turninghastily away to hide the suspicious moisture that gathered in hiseyes. "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 outof my life!" she wailed, pathetically, putting back the golden ringsof 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 tome!"

The three ladies looked at one another questioningly, in alarm. 

"You must not mind the strange ravings of a person in delirium, " saidthe doctor, curtly; "they are liable to imagine and say all sorts ofnonsense. Pay no attention to what she says, my dear ladies; don'tdisturb her with questions. That poor little brain needs absoluterest; every nerve seems to have been strained to its utmost. "

After leaving the proper medicines and giving minute instructions asto how and when it should be administered, Dr. West took hisdeparture, with a strange, vague uneasiness at his heart. 

"Pshaw!" he muttered to himself, as he drove briskly along the shadowyroad, yet seeing none of its beauty, "how strange it is these younggirls 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 ascoundrel, and I'll bet my life on it!"

The doctor brought his fist down on his knee with such a resoundingblow that poor old Dobbin broke into a gallop. But, drive as fast hewould, he could not forget the sweet, childish face that had takensuch a strong hold upon his fancy. The trembling red lips and pleadingblue eyes haunted him all the morning, as though they held some secretthey would fain have whispered. 

All the night long Daisy clung to the hands that held hers, beggingand praying her not to leave her alone, until the poor old lady wasquite 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 toany one. I am all--all--alone, " she would sigh, drearily. 

Again she fancied she was with Rex, standing beneath the magnoliaboughs in the sunshine; again, she was clinging to his arm--while somecruel woman insulted her--sobbing pitifully upon his breast; again, she was parting from him at the gate, asking him if what they had donewas right; then she was in some school-room, begging piteously forsome cruel letter; then out on the waves in the storm and theon-coming darkness of night. 

The sisters relieved one another at regular intervals. They had ceasedto listen to her pathetic little appeals for help, or the wild criesof agony that burst from the red feverish lips as she started up fromher slumbers with stifled sobs, moaning out that the time was flying;that she must escape anywhere, anywhere, while there were stillfifteen minutes left her. 

She never once mentioned Stanwick's name, or Septima's, but calledincessantly 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 whenshe 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 thehandsomest, most noble-looking, frank-faced young man I have everseen; and he took on in a way that made me actually cry when I toldhim she was married. He would not believe it, until I called the childand she told him herself it was the truth. I was sorry from the bottomof my heart that young fellow had not won her instead of thisStanwick, they were so suited to each other. "

"Ah, " said Ruth, after a moment's pause, "I think I have the key tothis mystery. She loves this handsome Rex, that is evident; perhapsthey have had a lovers' quarrel, and she has married this one on thespur of the moment through pique. Oh, the pretty little dear!" sighedRuth. "I hope she will never rue it. "

CHAPTER XV. 

Slowly the days came and went for the next fortnight. The crisis hadpassed, and Dr. West said she would soon recover. The beautiful, long, golden hair had been shorn from the pretty little head, and therose-bloom had died out of the pretty cheeks, but the bright, restlesslight never left the beautiful blue eyes--otherwise there was butlittle change in Daisy. 

It had been just two weeks that morning, they told her, as she openedher 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 whitecheeks; "of course you have been here ever since. I am afraid we aregoing to lose you soon, however. We have received a letter from yourhusband, saying he will be here some time to-morrow. Shall you bepleased to see him, dear?"

In one single instant all the dim, horrible past rushed back to Daisy'smind. She remembered flinging herself down in the clover-scentedgrass, and the world growing dark around her, as the terrible words ofStanwick rang in her ears--he would be back in just fifteen minutes toclaim her. 

Ah, bonny little Daisy, tossing on your pillow, babbling emptynothings, better would it have been for you, perhaps, if you haddropped the weary burden of your life into the kindly arms of deaththen and there than to struggle onward into the dark mystery which layentombed 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 inDaisy's hands. Like one in a terrible dream, Daisy read it quitethrough to the end. "You see, he says he incloses fifty dollars extrafor you, dear. I have placed it with the twenty safe in your littlepurse. "

"Oh, Miss Ruth, you are so very kind to me. I shall never forget howgood you have all been to me, " said Daisy, softly, watching the threepeaceful-faced old ladies, who had drawn their rocking-chairs, as wastheir custom, all in a row, and sat quietly knitting in the sunshine, the gentle click of their needles falling soothingly upon Daisy'spoor, tired brain. 

"We shall miss you sadly when you go, " said Ruth, knitting awayvigorously. "You have been like a ray of sunshine in this gloomy oldhouse. We have all learned to love you very dearly. "

"You love me?" repeated Daisy, wonderingly. "I was beginning tobelieve every one hated me in the whole world, every one has been sobitter and so cruel with me, except poor old Uncle John. I oftenwonder why God lets me live--what am I to do with my life! Mariana inthe moated grange, was not more to be pitied than I. Death relievedher, but I am left to struggle on. "

"Heaven hear her!" cried Ruth. "One suffers a great deal to lose allinterest in life. You are so young, dear, you could not have sufferedmuch. "

"I have lost all I hold dear in life, " she answered, pathetically, lifting her beautiful, childish blue eyes toward the white fleecyclouds tinted by the setting sun. 

Their hearts ached for the pretty, lonely little creature. Theybelieved she was thinking of her mother. So she was--and of Rex, thehandsome young husband whom she so madly idolized in her worshipfulchildish fashion, who was worse than dead to her--the husband whoshould have believed in her honor and purity, though the world hadcried out to him that she was false. He had thrust aside allpossibility of her writing to him; cast her out from his life; lefther to be persecuted beyond all endurance; bound by a vow she dare notbreak to keep her marriage with Rex a secret. Though he was more cruelthan death, she loved Rex with a devotion that never faltered. 

Daisy lay there, thinking of it all, while the soft, golden sunlightdied 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 shesummoned them all to her bedside. 

"I want you all to go to bed and never mind me, " coaxed Daisy, with astrange light in her eyes. "Take a good sleep, as I am going to do. Ishall be very happy to-morrow--happier than I have ever been before!"

She clasped her white arms about their necks in turn, clinging tothem, 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 quicklyinto the Land of Nod, or there will be no roses in these cheeksto-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 pickedup her shaded night-lamp, that threw such a soft, sweet radiance overher aged face, as she quietly quitted the room. 

A sudden change came over Daisy's face as the sound of her footstepsdied away in the hall. 

"Oh, God! help me!" she cried, piteously, struggling to her feet. "Imust be far away from here when daylight breaks. "

She was so weak she almost fell back on her bed again when sheattempted to rise. The thought of the morrow lent strength to herflagging energies. A strange mist seemed rising before her. Twice sheseemed near fainting, but her indomitable courage kept her fromsinking, as she thought of what the morrow would have in store forher. 

Quietly she counted over the little store in her purse by the moon'srays. 

"Seventy dollars! Oh, I could never use all that in my life!" shecried. "Besides, I could never touch one cent of Stanwick's money. Itwould burn my fingers--I am sure it would!"

Folding the bill carefully in two she placed it beneath her littlesnowy ruffled pillow. Then catching up the thick, dark shawl which layon an adjacent table, she wrapped it quickly about her. She opened thedoor leading out into the hall, and listened. All was still--solemnlystill. 

Daisy crept softly down the stairs, and out into the quiet beauty ofthe still, summer night. 

"Rex, " she wailed, softly, "perhaps when I am dead you will feel sorryfor poor little Daisy, and some one may tell you how you have wrongedme in your thoughts, but you would not let me tell you how ithappened!"

In the distance she saw the shimmer of water lying white and stillunder the moon's rays, tipped by the silvery light of the stars. 

"No, not that way, " she cried, with a shudder; "some one might saveme, and I want to die!"

In the distance the red and colored gleaming lights of an apothecary'sshop caught her gaze. 

"Yes, that way will be best, " she said, reflectively. 

She drew the shawl closer about her, pressing on as rapidly as herfeeble little feet would carry her. How weak she was when she turnedthe knob and entered--the very lights seemed dancing around her. 

A small, keen-eyed, shrewd little man stepped briskly forward to waitupon her. He started back in horror at the utter despair and woe inthe beautiful young face that was turned for a moment toward him, beautiful in all its pallor as a statue, with a crown of golden hairsuch as pictures of angels wear encircling the perfect head. 

"What can I do for you, miss?" queried the apothecary, gazingsearchingly into the beautiful dreamy blue eyes raised up to his andwondering who she could possibly be. 

"I wish to purchase some laudanum, " Daisy faltered. "I wish it torelieve a pain which is greater than I can bear. "

"Toothache, most probably?" intimated the brisk little doctor. "I knowwhat it is. Lord bless you! I've had it until I thought I should jumpthrough the roof. Laudanum's a first-class thing, but I can tell youof something better--jerk 'em out, that's my recipe, " he said, with anodd little smile. "Of course every one to their notion, and if you saylaudanum--and nothing else--why it's laudanum you shall have; butremember 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 aregiment. You must use it very carefully, miss. Remember I have warnedyou, " he said, handing her the little bottle filled with a dark liquidand labeled conspicuously, "Laudanum--a poison. "

"Please give me my change quickly, " she said, a strange, deadlysickness creeping over her. 

"Certainly, ma'am, " assented the obliging little man, handing her backthe change. 

Daisy quite failed to notice that he returned her the full amount shehad paid him in his eagerness to oblige her, and he went happily backto compounding his drugs in the rear part of the shop, quiteunconscious he was out the price of the laudanum. 

He was dreaming of the strange beauty of the young girl, and the smiledeepened on his good-humored face as he remembered how sweetly she hadgazed up at him. 

Meanwhile Daisy struggled on, clasping her treasure close to herthrobbing heart. She remembered Ruth had pointed out an old shaft toher 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 oflooking for me there. "

Poor little Daisy--unhappy girl-bride, let Heaven not judge herharshly--she was sorely tried. 

"Mother, mother!" she sobbed, in a dry, choking voice, "I can not liveany longer. I am not taking the life God gave me, I am only returningit to Him. This is the only crime I have ever committed, mother, andman will forget it, and God will forgive me. You must plead for me, angel-mother. Good-bye, dear, kind Uncle John, your love never failedme, and Rex--oh, Rex--whom I love best of all, you will not know how Iloved you. Oh, my love--my lost love--I shall watch over you upthere!" she moaned, "and come to you in your dreams! Good-bye, Rex, mylove, my husband!" she sobbed, holding the fatal liquid to her parchedlips. 

The deep yawning chasm lay at her feet. Ten--ay, eleven drops shehastily swallowed. Then with one last piteous appeal to Heaven forforgiveness, poor, helpless little Daisy closed her eyes and sprunginto the air. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

A strong hand drew Daisy quickly back. 

"Rash child! What is this that you would do?" cried an eager, earnestvoice, and, turning quickly about, speechless with fright, Daisy metthe stern eyes of the apothecary bent searchingly, inquiringly uponher. 

"It means that I am tired of life, " she replied, desperately. "My lifeis so full of sadness it will be no sorrow to leave it. I wanted torest quietly down there, but you have held me back; it is useless toattempt to save me now. I have already swallowed a portion of thelaudanum. Death must come to relieve me soon. It would be better tolet me die down there where no one could have looked upon my faceagain. "

"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 youlaudanum, but a harmless mixture instead, and followed you to see ifmy surmise was correct. You are young and fair--surely life could nothave lost all hope and sunshine for you?"

"You do not know all, " said Daisy, wearily, "or you would not haveheld me back. I do not know of another life so utterly hopeless as myown. "

The good man looked at the sweet, innocent, beautiful face, upon whichthe 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 havesuffered 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 anuncommon one. Are you quite sure that nothing can remedy it?"

"Quite sure, " replied Daisy, hopelessly. "My doom is fixed; and nomatter how long I live, or how long he lives, it can never bealtered. "

The apothecary was uncomfortable without knowing why, haunted by avague, miserable suspicion, which poor Daisy's words secretlycorroborated; yet it seemed almost a sin to harbor one suspicionagainst the purity of the artless little creature before him. Helooked into the fresh young face. There was no cloud on it, no guiltlay brooding in the clear, truthful blue eyes. He never dreamed littleDaisy was a wife. "Why did he not love her?" was the query theapothecary asked himself over and over again; "she is so young, soloving, and so fair. He has cast her off, this man to whom she hasgiven the passionate love of her young heart. "

"You see you did wrong to hold me back, " she said, gently. "How am Ito 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 herway, with the dazed appearance of one from beneath whose feet the bankof safety has been withdrawn. Hope was dead, and the past a blank. 

"No matter what your past has been, my poor child, you must rememberthere is a future. Take up the burden again, and bear it nobly; goback 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 bean honorable girl, and I should like to befriend you, as I would prayHeaven 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 companionto an elderly lady in a distant city, would you be willing to take upthe tangled threads of your life again, and wait patiently until Godsaw fit to call you--that is, you would never attempt to take yourlife into your own hands again?" he asked, slowly. "Remember, such anact is murder, and a murderer can not enter the kingdom of heaven. "

He never forgot the startled, frightened glance that swept over thebeautiful face, plainly discernible in the white moonlight, nor thequiver of the sweet, tremulous voice as Daisy answered:

"I think God must have intended me to live, or He would not have sentyou here to save me, " she answered, impulsively. "Twice I have beennear death, and each time I have been rescued. I never attempted totake my own life but this once. I shall try and accept my fate andlive out my weary life. "

"Bravely spoken, my noble girl, " replied her rescuer, heartily. 

"I must go far away from here, though, " she continued, shuddering; "Iam 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 offwas pursuing the child, as her relentless foe, to the very verge ofdeath and despair. "

"It is my sister who wants a companion, " he said. "She lives in theSouth--in Florida. Do you think you would like to go as far away asthat?"

"Yes, " said Daisy, mechanically. "I should like to go to the furthestend of the world. It does not matter much where I go!"

How little she knew where fate was drifting her! Rex had not told herhis home was in Florida; he meant to tell her that on the morning hewas to have met her. 

"It will be a long, wearisome journey for you to undertake, still Ifeel 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 innocentlittle face of yours ought to be a passport to any one's confidence. Idon't think there's any doubt but what you will get on famously withMaria--that's my sister Mrs. Glenn--but she's got three daughters thatwould put an angel's temper on edge. They're my nieces--more's thepity, for they are regular Tartars. Mrs. Glenn sent for my daughterAlice to come down there; but, Lord bless you, I wouldn't dare sendher! There would be a raging quarrel before twenty-four hours! MyAlice has got a temper of her own. But, pshaw! I ought not to frightenyou, 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 whomight come in search of me. I must remain dead to the world forever; Ishall never take up the old life again. They must believe me dead. "

Argument and persuasion alike were useless; and, sorely troubled atheart, the apothecary reluctantly consented. Poor little Daisyimpulsively caught him by both hands, and gratefully sobbed out herthanks. 

The arrangements were soon completed, and before the gray dawn piercedthe darkness of the eastern sky poor little Daisy was whirling rapidlyaway from Elmwood. 

The consternation and excitement which prevailed at the Burton Cottagewhen Daisy's absence was discovered can better be imagined thandescribed; or the intense anger of Stanwick upon finding Daisy hadeluded him. 

"Checkmated!" he cried, white to the very lips. "But she shall notescape me; she shall suffer for this freak. I am not a man to betrifled with. She can not have gone far, " he assured himself. "In allprobability she has left Elmwood; but if by rail or by water I caneasily recapture my pretty bird. Ah, Daisy Brooks!" he muttered, "youcan not fly away from your fate; it will overtake you sooner orlater. "

Some hours after Stanwick had left the cottage, an old man toiledwearily up the grass-grown path. 

"Oh, poor little Daisy, " he said, wiping the tears from his eyes withhis old red and white cotton kerchief; "no matter what you have doneI will take you back to my heart--that I will!"

He clutched the letter Mme. Whitney had written him close in histoil-hardened hand. The letter simply told him Daisy had fled from theseminary, and she had every reason to believe she was now in Elmwood. He had received the letter while in New York, and hastily proceeded toElmwood, the station indicated, at once, without stopping over atAllendale to acquaint Septima with the news. 

"She shall never be sent off to school again, " he commented; "but sheshall stop at home. Poor little pet, she was always as happy as theday was long; she sha'n't have book-learning if she don't want it. Iam too hard, I s'pose, with the child in sending her off among theseprimpy city gals, with their flounces and furbelows, with only threeplain muslin frocks. The dickens fly away with the book-learnin'; Ilike 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 methim 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 ishere. 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 behis wife; of her illness which culminated in her disappearance. 

They never forgot the white, set face turned toward them. The veinsstood out like cords on his forehead, and the perspiration rolled downhis pallid cheeks in great quivering beads. This heart-rending, silentemotion was more terrible to witness than the most violent paroxysmsof grief. Strangely enough they had quite forgotten to mention Rex'svisit. 

"You don't know how I loved that child, " he cried, brokenly. "She wasall I had to love in the whole world, and I set such store by her, butStanwick shall pay dearly for this, " he cried, hoarsely. "I shallnever rest day or night until my little Daisy's honor is avenged, sohelp me God! You think she is dead?" he questioned, looking brokenlyfrom the one to the other. 

They only nodded their heads; they could not speak through theirsobs. 

At that moment several of the neighbors who were assisting in thesearch were seen coming toward the cottage. 

They gathered in a little knot by the garden wall. With a heartheavier 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!" hecried, in agony; "I can't stand this suspense. "

"There are footprints in the wet grass down yonder, " one of themreplied; "and they lead straight down to the old shaft. Do you thinkyour 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 hishearers, and more than one coat-sleeve was drawn hastily acrosssympathetic eyes as they whispered one to the other he would surelyfind her there. 

John Brooks had reached the very mouth of the pit now, and through thebranches of the trees the men saw him suddenly spring forward, andstoop as if to pick up something, and bitter cries rent the stillnessof the summer morning. 

"Daisy! oh, Daisy! my child, my child!"

Then they saw him fall heavily to the ground on the very brink of theshaft. 

"I guess he's found her!" cried the sympathizing men. "Let us go andsee. "

They found John Brooks insensible, lying prone on his face, grasping atiny little glove in one hand, and in the other a snowy littlehandkerchief, 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 ofFlorida. The house--similar to many in the South in style ofarchitecture--stood in the midst of charming grounds which werefilled with flowers. To the left of the house was a large shrubberywhich opened on to a wide carriage-drive leading to the main road, but the principal attraction of Glengrove was its magnificentorange grove, where the brilliant sunshine loved to linger longestamong the dark-green boughs, painting the luscious fruit with itsown golden coloring--from green to gold. A low stone wall dividedit from the beach which led to the sea. 

It was early morning. In an elegant boudoir, whose oriel windowoverlooked the garden, sat three young ladies, respectively, BessieGlenn, two-and-twenty; Gertie Glenn, twenty; and Eve Glenn, eighteen--all dark-eyed, dark-haired, and handsome, yet each of adistinct different type. 

"I declare, Bess, " cried Gertie, indignantly, twisting the telegramshe held in her hand into a wisp, "it's from Uncle Jet! Guess what hesays!"

"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 thequiet little village of Elmwood, and Alice thinks it her duty to staythere and capture him. "

"That isn't it at all, " snapped Gertie. "Uncle Jet says Alice can notcome; but he has taken the liberty of sending another young lady inher stead, and hopes Miss Daisy Brooks will be the right person in theright place. She will arrive on the twentieth, at nine A. M. "

Eve jumped to her feet in actual astonishment, and even Bessie droppedher novel, with widely opened eyes. 

"Just fancy some tall, gaunt old maid of a companion, with such aname!" 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, andtake 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 MissNobody?" cried Gertie, stamping her pretty slippered foot. "Guess whatelse is the news. "

"Haven't I told you I despise guessing?" cried Bess, angrily. "It isnot good form to insist upon a person's guessing--please rememberit. "

"Write it down on ice, " said Eve, _sotto voce_, mimicking her eldersister'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 thatcontemplated marriage, and, lo! she informs me the wedding ispostponed for the present, and Rex--handsome Rex--is coming homealone. "

"No--o!" cried both the sisters in chorus. 

Bess sat bolt upright, and Eve danced around the room clapping herhands. 

"I don't think much of a marriage which has been postponed, " saidBess, a bright spot glowing on both of her cheeks. "Who knows but whatone 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 tospeak before Eve. She is as liable to do mischief as her namesake wasin the Garden of Eden. "

"You ought never to go back on your own sex, " retorted Eve, bangingthe door after her as she quitted the room, Rover, an ugly-lookingmastiff, closely following at her heels. 

"That is certainly an astonishing piece of news, " said Bess, reflectively, smoothing out the folds of her white cashmere morningwrapper. "Now, here's a plan for you, Gertie. Find out his address insome way, and we will write to him on some pretext or other. Rex hasprobably quarreled with the haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, andone of us ought certainly to catch his heart in the rebound. Send himan 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 hersister. "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 fatand 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 seewhich one of you gets the best of it. "

Before either of the sisters had time to reply, the family carriagedashed 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 theelder 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 thekitchen?"

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, clingingveil. "You may lay aside your bonnet and veil. "

Trembling and sick at heart with the cold greeting which had beengiven 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 toleave 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 amto begin with. I'm not one of these sleek, smooth, tigery creaturesthat hide their claws under velvet-paws. We are three model sisters, "she went on, recklessly; "we have tremendous spats--when we are herealone; but if a visitor happens in we all sit with our arms around oneanother, 'just to have the appearance' of affection, you know. "

The elder Miss Glenn arose with dignity, motioning Daisy to followher. 

"Papa will see you later, Eve, dear, " she said, with a baleful glitterin her sloe-black eyes; and as Daisy followed her she could not helpbut compare her with Pluma Hurlhurst, with that treacherous, mockingsmile playing about her full, red lips--and quite unconsciously poorlittle Daisy fell to thinking. 

"Rex will go back to Pluma Hurlhurst now, " she thought, with a bittersigh. "He has cast me out of his life; he will go back and marryher. "

Poor, innocent Daisy, how little she knew of life or the insurmountablebarrier which lay between the haughty, scheming heiress and Rex--herhusband!

"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, flushingpainfully. "I--I was not aware you had spoken. No, I lived nearElmwood--between there and Baltimore. "

Daisy was sorely afraid Miss Glenn would ask her to name the exactlocation. She did not, however, much to Daisy's relief. By this timethey had reached the door of Mrs. Glenn's room, and as it wasslightly ajar Bessie pushed it open without further ceremony andentered. 

"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 differentobjects for a moment or so. She saw, however, a dark figure on a couchand a white jeweled hand waving a fan indolently to and fro. A suddenimpulse came over Daisy to turn and run away, but by a great effortshe controlled her feelings. 

"Step forward, if you please, Miss Brooks. I can not observe you wellat such a distance; do not tread on the poodle on the rug or brushagainst the bric-à-brac placed indiscriminately about the room. "

"Oh, dear, if there were only a light, " thought Daisy, in dismay. Shewas afraid of taking a single step for fear some of the bric-à-bracmentioned, either at the right or left of her, should come crashingdown under her blundering little feet. 

"I always exclude the broad glare of early morning light, as I find itespecially trying. "

As she spoke she threw back one of the shutters with the end of herfan, and a warm flood of invigorating sunshine poured into the room. 

"Dear me, " she cried, staring hard at the beautiful little face beforeher. "Why, you are a child, scarcely older than my Eve. What couldthat stupid brother of mine mean by sending you to me? I have a notionto send you back again directly. "

"Oh, please do not, madame, " cried Daisy, piteously. "Only try mefirst; 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 doas well, " faltered Daisy, timidly. 

"Alice Jet is over forty, and you are not more than sixteen, I shouldjudge. 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 herheart throbbed pitifully. 

"I am not so very wise or learned, " she said, "but I should try sohard to please you, if you will only let me try. "

"I suppose, now that you are here, we will have to make the best ofit, " 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 arethe most dangerous of rivals. If she stays at Glengrove I shall seeshe is kept well in the background. "

While in the morning-room below the three girls were discussing thenew 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. Shelooked thoughtfully out of the window. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The first week of Daisy's stay at Glengrove passed quickly. She wasbeginning to feel quite at home with Mrs. Glenn and Eve, but Bessieand Gertie held aloof from her. She was beginning to believe she neverwould 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, twirlingone of her soft gold curls caressingly around her finger; "and if Iwere a handsome young man, instead of a girl, I should fallstraightway 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 herblue eyes. "If you please, Eve, I'd rather not talk about suchthings. "

"You are certainly a funny girl, " said Eve, wonderingly. "Why, do youknow all the handsome young fellows around here have fallen deeply inlove with you, and have just been besieging both Bess and Gertie foran introduction to you. "

No laughing rejoinder came from Daisy's red lips. There was an anxiouslook in her eyes. Ah! this, then, accounted for the growing coldnesswith which the two sisters greeted her. 

"You do not seem enough interested to even ask who they are, " saidEve, disappointedly. "I suppose you have never heard we have someof the handsomest gentlemen around here to be met with in thewhole 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 youcan just see beyond those trees?" asked Eve, suddenly, a mischievouslight dancing in her merry hazel eyes. 

"Yes, " replied Daisy. "I have a fine view of it from my windowupstairs. I have seen a little child swinging to and fro in a hammockbeneath the trees. Poor little thing, she uses a crutch. Is shelame?"

"Yes, " replied Eve, "that's little Birdie; she's lame. I do not wantto talk about her but about her brother. Oh, he is perfectlysplendid!" declared Eve, enthusiastically, "and rich, too. Why, heowns I don't know how many cotton plantations and orange groves, andhe is--oh--so handsome! You must take care you do not fall in lovewith him. All the girls do. If you did not, you would be a greatexception; you could scarcely help caring for him, he is so winningand 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 eatingher 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 restlessbrown one drumming a tattoo on the window-sill, and her golden headdrooping so close to Eve's, her curls mingled with her dark locks, "Icould never love any one in this world again. I loved once--it was thesweetest, yet the most bitter, experience of my life. The same voicethat spoke tender words to me cruelly cast me from him. Yet I love himstill with all my heart. Do not talk to me of love, or lovers, Eve, Ican not bear it. The world will never hold but one face for me, andthat is the face of him who is lost to me forever. "

"Oh, how delightfully romantic!" cried Eve. "I said to myself over andover again there was some mystery in your life. I have seen suchstrange shadows in your eyes, and your voice often had the sound oftears 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 truantlover of Daisy's back to his old allegiance; but the first and mostimportant 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 onthrough the grounds, choosing the less frequented paths. She wanted tobe all alone by herself to have a good cry. Somehow she felt so muchbetter 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 uponher ears caused her to stop voluntarily. 

"Won't you please reach me my hat and crutch? I have dropped them onyour side of the fence. "

Daisy glanced around, wondering in which direction the voice camefrom. 

"I am sitting on the high stone wall; come around on the other side ofthat big tree and you will see me. "

The face that looked down into Daisy's almost took her breath away fora single instant, it was so like Rex's. 

A bright, winning, childish face, framed in a mass of dark nut-browncurls, and the brownest of large brown eyes. 

"Certainly, " said Daisy, stooping down with a strange unexplainablethrill at her heart and picking up the wide-brimmed sun-hat andcrutch, 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? Ican not walk back to the house. I am lame!"

"Let me see if I can help you, " said Daisy, scaling the stone wallwith 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 veryfar, and you are not heavy. "

In a very few moments Daisy had the child down safely upon _terrafirma_. 

"Thank you, " said the child. "I know you are tired; we will rest amoment, please, on this fallen log. "

The touch of the little girl's hands, the glance of the soft browneyes, and the tone of her voice seemed to recall every word and glanceof 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 meyours. "

"My name is Daisy Brooks, " she answered. 

Poor little girl-bride, there had been a time when she had whisperedto her heart that her name was Daisy Lyon; but that bright dream wasover now; she would never be aught else than--Daisy Brooks. 

"Is your name really Daisy?" cried the little girl in a transport ofdelight, scarcely catching the last name. "Why, that is the name mybrother loves best in the world. You have such a sweet face, " said thechild, earnestly. "I would choose the name of some flower as justsuited to you. I should have thought of Lily, Rose, Pansy, or Violet, but I should never have thought of anything one half so pretty asDaisy; it just suits you. "

All through her life Daisy felt that to be the sweetest complimentever paid her. Daisy laughed--the only happy laugh that had passed herlips 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 thechild delighted to talk of her brother. 

"He has been away for a long time, " explained Birdie. "He only camehome last night, and I cried myself to sleep, I was so glad. You see, "said the child, growing more confidential, and nestling closer toDaisy's side, and opening wide her great brown eyes, "I was crying forfear he would bring home a wife, and mamma was crying for fear hewouldn't. I wrote him a letter all by myself once, and begged him notto marry, but come home all alone, and you see he did, " cried thechild, overjoyed. "When he answered my letter, he inclosed a littlepressed flower, with a golden heart and little white leaves around it, saying: 'There is no flower like the daisy for me. I shall alwaysprize them as pearls beyond price. ' I planted a whole bed of thembeneath 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 mein his arms, and cried as though his heart would break. "

If the white fleecy clouds in the blue sky, the murmuring sea, or thesilver-throated bobolink swinging in the green leafy bough above herhead, had only whispered to Daisy why he loved the flowers so wellwhich bore the name of daisy, how much misery might have been sparedtwo loving hearts! The gray, dusky shadows of twilight were creepingup 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 couldonly 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 inthe stone wall? That is my favorite nook. I like to sit there andwatch 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 hattumbled about her face like a misty cloud. 

"You must put me down while you fix your veil, " said Birdie. "You cannot see with it so. There are huge stones in the path, you wouldstumble and fall. "

"So I shall, " assented Daisy, as she placed the child down on thesoft, 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 himwith eager delight. "Come here, Rex, and carry me; I have broken mycrutch. "

For one brief instant the world seemed to stand still around poor, hapless Daisy, the forsaken girl-bride. The wonder was that she didnot die, so great was her intense emotion. Rex was standing beforeher--the handsome, passionate lover, who had married her on theimpulse of the moment; the man whom she loved with her whole heart, atwhose name she trembled, of whom she had made an idol in her girlishheart, and worshiped--the lover who had vowed so earnestly he wouldshield her forever from the cold, cruel world, who had sworn eternalconstancy, while the faithful gleaming stars watched him from the bluesky overhead. 

Yes, it was Rex! She could not see through the thick, misty veil, howpale his face was in the gathering darkness. Oh, Heaven! how herpassionate little heart went out to him! How she longed, with apassionate longing words could not tell, to touch his hand, or resther 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 mypleading--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, orI shall die!"

"She has been so good to me, Rex, " whispered Birdie, clinging to theveil which covered Daisy's face. "I broke my crutch, and she hascarried 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 ofher life had come, when Rex, her handsome young husband, turnedcourteously toward her, extending his hand with a winning smile. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

On the day following Rex's return home, and the morning preceding theevents narrated in our last chapter, Mrs. Theodore Lyon sat in herdressing-room eagerly awaiting her son; her eyebrows met in a darkfrown and her jeweled hands were locked tightly together in her lap. 

"Rex is like his father, " she mused; "he will not be coerced in thismatter of marriage. He is reckless and willful, yet kind of heart. Forlong years I have set my heart upon this marriage between Rex andPluma Hurlhurst. I say again it must be!" Mrs. Lyon idolized her onlyson. "He would be a fitting mate for a queen, " she told herself. Theproud, peerless beauty of the haughty young heiress of Whitestone Hallpleased her. "She and no other shall be Rex's wife, " she said. 

When Rex accepted the invitation to visit Whitestone Hall she smiledcomplacently. 

"It can end in but one way, " she told herself; "Rex will bring Plumahome as his bride. "

Quite unknown to him, his elegant home had been undergoing repairs formonths. 

"There will be nothing wanting for the reception of his bride, " shesaid, viewing the magnificent suites of rooms which contained everyluxury that taste could suggest or money procure. 

Then came Rex's letter like a thunderbolt from a clear sky begging hernot to mention the subject again, as he could never marry PlumaHurlhurst. 

"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 hadgrown when she greeted him the night before, in the flickering lightof the chandelier. She would not speak to him then of the subjectuppermost in her mind. 

"Retire to your room at once, Rex, " she said, "your journey haswearied you. See, it is past midnight already. I will await youto-morrow morning in my boudoir; we will breakfast there together. "

She leaned back against the crimson velvet cushions, tapping her satinquilted slipper restlessly on the thick velvet carpet, ever and anonglancing at her jeweled watch, wondering what could possibly detainRex. 

She heard the sound of a quick, familiar footstep in the corridor; amoment later Rex was by her side. As she stooped down to kiss his faceshe noticed, in the clear morning light, how changed he was. Herjeweled hands lingered on his dark curls and touched his bright, proudface. "What had come over this handsome, impetuous son of hers?" sheasked herself. 

"You have been ill, Rex, " she said, anxiously, "and you have not toldme. "

"I have not, indeed, mother, " he replied. 

"Not ill? Why, my dear boy, your face is haggard and worn, and thereare 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 hisstrong white hands tightly clasped in her own, "I do not want to teaseyou or bring up an unpleasant subject, but I had so hoped, my boy, youwould not come alone. I have hoped and prayed, morning and night, youwould bring home a bride, and that bride would be--Pluma Hurlhurst. "

Rex staggered from her arms with a groan. He meant to tell her thewhole truth, but the words seemed to fail him. 

"Mother, " he said, turning toward her a face white with anguish, "inHeaven's name, never mention love or marriage to me again or I shallgo 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 downinto his face, "tell me, has Pluma Hurlhurst refused you? Tell me whatis 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 notgive 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 hishands. 

Then something like the truth seemed to dawn upon her. 

"My son, " she said, in a slight tone of irritation, "Pluma wrote me ofthat little occurrence at the lawn fête. Surely you are not in lovewith that girl you were so foolishly attentive to--the overseer'sniece, I believe it was. I can not, I will not, believe a son of minecould so far forget his pride as to indulge in such mad, recklessfolly. Remember, Rexford, " she cried, in a voice fairly trembling withsuppressed 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 flashingscorn of her eyes unflinchingly, "you must not speak so; I--can notlisten 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 uponhis 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 likethunder through the room, and seemed to repeat themselves, over andover again, during the moment of utter silence that ensued. Rex hadtold his pitiful secret, and felt better already, as if the worst wasover; while his mother stood motionless and dumb, glaring upon himwith a baleful light in her eyes. He had dashed down in a singleinstant 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 wasstrangely sad and low, Rex told his story--every word of it: how hisheart had went out to the sweet-faced, golden-haired little creaturewhom he found fast asleep under the blossoming magnolia-tree in themorning sunshine; how he protected the shrinking, timid littlecreature from the cruel insults of Pluma Hurlhurst; how he persuadedher to marry him out in the starlight, and how they had agreed to meeton the morrow--that morrow on which he found the cottage empty andhis child-bride gone; of his search for her, and--oh, cruelest andbitterest of all!--where and with whom he found her; how he had lefther lying among the clover, loving her too madly to curse her, yetpraying 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 faceagain. He spoke of Daisy as his wife over and over again, the namelingering tenderly on his lips. He did not see how, at the mention ofthe words, "My wife, " his mother's face grew more stern and rigid, andshe clutched her hands so tightly together that the rings she worebruised her tender flesh, yet she did not seem to feel the pain. 

She saw the terrible glance that leaped into his eyes when hementioned Stanwick's name, and how he ground his teeth, like onesilently breathing a terrible curse. Then his voice fell to awhisper. 

"I soon repented of my harshness, " he said, "and I went back toElmwood; 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 shaftin a delirium. I would have followed her, but they held me back. I canscarcely realize it, mother, " he cried. "The great wonder is that I donot go insane. "

Mrs. Lyon had heard but one word--"Dead. " This girl who had inveigledher handsome son into a low marriage was dead. Rex was free--free tomarry the bride whom she had selected for him. Yet she dare notmention 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 shesupposed lying cold and still in death, whom her son so wildlymourned; she only realized her darling Rex was free. What mattered itto her at what bitter a cost Rex was free? She should yet see herdarling hopes realized. Pluma should be his wife, just as sure as theyboth lived. 

"I have told you all now, mother, " Rex said, in conclusion; "you mustcomfort me, for Heaven knows I need all of your sympathy. You willforgive me, mother, " he said. "You would have loved Daisy, too, if youhad seen her; I shall always believe, through some enormous villainy, Stanwick must have tempted her. I shall follow him to the ends of theearth. I shall wring the truth from his lips. I must go away, " hecried--"anywhere, everywhere, trying to forget my great sorrow. How amI 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 abrief moment Rex forgot his great grief in greeting his littlesister. 

"Oh, you darling brother Rex, " she cried, clinging to him and laughingand crying in one breath, "I told them to wake me up sure, if you camein the night. I dreamed I heard your voice. You see, it must have beenreal, but I couldn't wake up; and this morning I heard every onesaying: 'Rex is here, Rex is here, ' and I couldn't wait anothermoment, but I came straight down to you. "

Rex kissed the pretty little dimpled face, and the little chubby handsthat 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 hercheek 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, " saidMrs. 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 younglady like Bess and Gertie, over at Glengrove. "

"And Eve, " suggested Rex, the shadow of a smile flickering around hismouth. 

"No, not like Eve, " cried the child, gathering up her crutch andsun-hat as she limped toward the door; "Eve is not a young lady, she'sa Tom-boy; she wears short dresses and chases the hounds around, whilethe other two wear silk dresses with big, big trains and have beaus tohold their fans and handkerchiefs. I am going to take my new books yousent me down to my old seat on the stone wall and read those prettystories there. I don't know if I will be back for lunch or not, " shecalled 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 anappearance. At last Rex was beginning to feel uneasy about her. 

"You need not be the least alarmed, " said Mrs. Lyon, laughingly, "thechild is quite spoiled; she is like a romping gypsy, more content tolive out of doors in a tent than to remain indoors. She is probablywaiting down on the stone wall for you to come for her and carry herhome as you used to do. You had better go down and see, Rex; it isgrowing quite dark. "

And Rex, all unconscious of the strange, invisible thread which fatewas weaving so closely about him, quickly made his way through thefast-gathering darkness down the old familiar path which led throughthe odorous orange groves to the old stone wall, guided by the shrilltreble of Birdie's childish voice, which he heard in the distance, mingled with the plaintive murmur of the sad sea-waves--those wavesthat seemed ever murmuring in their song the name of Daisy. Even thesubtle breeze seemed to whisper of her presence. 

CHAPTER XX. 

"I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered my littlesister, " said Rex, extending his hand to the little veiled figurestanding in the shade of the orange-trees. "Allow me to thank you forit. "

Poor Daisy! she dared not speak lest the tones of her voice shouldbetray her identity. 

"I must for evermore be as one dead to him, " she whispered to herwildly beating heart. 

Rex wondered why the little, fluttering, cold fingers dropped soquickly from his clasp; he thought he heard a stifled sigh; theslight, delicate form looked strangely familiar, yet he could see itwas neither Eve, Gerty, nor Bess. She bowed her head with a fewlow-murmured words he scarcely caught, and the next instant the littlefigure was lost to sight in the darkness beyond. 

"Who was that, Birdie?" he asked, scarcely knowing what prompted thequestion. 

Alas for the memory of childhood! poor little Birdie had quiteforgotten. 

"It is so stupid of me to forget, but when I see her again I shall askher and try and remember it then. "

"It is of no consequence, " said Rex, raising the little figure in hisarms and bearing her quickly up the graveled path to the house. 

As he neared the house Rex observed there was great confusion amongthe servants; there was a low murmur of voices and lights moving toand fro. 

"What is the matter, Parker?" cried Rex, anxiously, of the servant whocame out to meet him. 

"Mrs. Lyon is very ill, sir, " he answered, gravely; "it is aparalytic stroke the doctor says. We could not find you, so we wentfor Doctor Elton at once. "

It seemed but a moment since he had parted from his mother in thegathering twilight, to search for Birdie. His mother very ill--dearHeaven! 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 tohim a sense of what was happening. Like one in a dream he hurriedalong the corridor toward his mother's boudoir. He heard his mother'svoice calling for him. 

"Where is my son?" she moaned. 

He opened the door quietly and went in. Her dark eyes opened feebly asRex 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 everseen 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 alwayshope while there is life. "

She raised her face to her son's, and he saw there was a curiouswhiteness upon it. 

The large, magnificent room was quite in shadow; soft shadows filledthe corners; the white statuettes gleamed in the darkness; one blindwas half drawn, and through it came the soft, sweet moonlight. A largenight-lamp stood upon the table, but it was carefully shaded. Faintglimmers of light fell upon the bed, with its costly velvet hangings, and on the white, drawn face that lay on the pillows, with the grayshadow of death stealing softly over it--the faint, filmy look thatcomes only into eyes that death has begun to darken. 

His mother had never been demonstrative; she had never cared for manycaresses; but now her son's love seemed her only comfort. 

"Rex, " she said, clinging close to him, "I feel that I am dying. Sendthem 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 eyesgrow dim. "

A cry came from Rex's lips. 

"Mother, dear mother, " he cried, "there is no pain in this world Iwould not undergo for your dear sake!" he cried, kissing thestiffening lips. 

She laid her hands on the handsome head bent before her. 

"Heaven bless you, my son, " she murmured. "Oh, Rex, my hope and mytrust are in you!" she wailed. "Comfort me, calm me--I have sufferedso much. I have one last dying request to make of you, my son. Youwill grant my prayer, Rex? Surely Heaven would not let you refuse mylast request!"

Rex clasped her in his arms. This was his lady-mother, whose proud, calm, serene manner had always been perfect--whose fair, proud facehad never been stained with tears--whose lips had never been partedwith sighs or worn with entreaties. 

It was so new to him, so terrible in its novelty, he could hardlyunderstand it. He threw his arms around her, and clasped her closelyto his breast. 

"My dearest mother, " he cried, "you know I would die for you if dyingwould benefit you. Why do you doubt my willingness to obey yourwishes, whatever they may be? Whatever I can do to comfort you I willsurely do it, mother. "

"Heaven bless you, Rex!" she cried, feebly caressing his face and hisbands. "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 mustremind you your mother's life hangs on a thread. The least excitement, the least agitation, and she will be dead before you can call forhelp. 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, " hesaid. 

"I do, " replied the doctor, gravely. "Your mother's life, for thepresent, lies in your hands. "

"Is it true, Rex, that I must die?" she gasped. The look of anguish onhis face answered her. "Rex, " she whispered, clinging like a child tohis strong white hands, "my hope and trust are in you, my only son. Iam 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 notrefuse anything you may ask! Why should I?"

But, as he spoke, he had not the faintest idea of what he would beasked to do. As he spoke his eyes caught the gleam of the moonlightthrough the window, and his thoughts traveled for one moment to thebeloved face he had seen in the moonlight--how fair and innocent theface was as they parted on the night they were wed! The picture ofthat lonely young girl-wife, going home by herself, brought tears tohis eyes. 

"Was there ever a fate so cruel?" he said to himself. "Who ever lost awife on his wedding-day?"

Surely there had never been a love-dream so sweet, so passionate, orso bright as his. Surely there had never been one so rudely broken. 

Poor little Daisy--his wife--lying cold and still in death. Even hismother was to be taken from him. 

The feeble pressure of his mother's hands recalled his wanderingthoughts. 

"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 leavethe words unspoken. I want my race to live long generations after me. Your poor little lame sister will go unmarried to the grave; and nowall rests with you, my only son. You understand me, Rex; you know thelast request I have to ask. "

For the first time a cry came to Rex's lips; her words pierced like asword 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 hecould not utter. "Remember, she whom you loved is dead. I would nothave asked this for long years to come, but I am dying--I must speaknow. "

"My God, mother!" he cried out in agony, "ask anything but that. Myheart is torn and bleeding; have pity on me, have pity!"

Great drops of agony started on his brow; his whole frame shook withagitation. 

He tried to collect himself, to gather his scattered thoughts, torealize the full import of the words she had spoken. 

Marry again! Heaven pity him! How could he harbor such a thought for asingle instant, when he thought of the pale, cold face of littleDaisy--his fair young bride--whom he so madly loved, lying pale andstill in death, like a broken lily, down in the dark, bottomless pitwhich never yielded up its terrible secrets!

"Rex, " wailed his mother, feebly, gazing into his eyes with a suspenseheart-breaking to witness, "don't refuse me this the first prayer Ihad ever made. If you mean to refuse it would be kinder far to plungea 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 caressedhis face. "You are good and gentle of heart, Rex; the prayers of yourdying mother will touch you. Answer me, my son; tell me my proud oldrace shall not die with you, and I will rest calmly in my grave. "

The cold night-wind fanned his pallid brow, and the blood coursedthrough his veins like molten lead. He saw the tears coursing down herpale, withered cheeks. Ah, God! was it brave to speak the words whichmust bring despair and death to her? Was it filial to send his motherto her grave with sorrow and sadness in her heart? Could he thrustaside his mother's loving arms and resist her dying prayer? Heavendirect him, he was so sorely tried. 

"Comfort me, Rex, " she whispered, "think of how I have loved you sinceyou were a little child, how I used to kiss your rosy little face anddream what your future would be like. It comes back to me now while Iplead to you with my fast-fleeting breath. Oh, answer me, Rex. "

All the love and tenderness of the young man's impulsive heart wasstirred by the words. Never was a man so fearfully tried. Rex'shandsome face had grown white with emotion; deep shadows came into hiseyes. Ah, what could it matter now? His hopes were dead, his heartcrushed, 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 hislips, the magnetic gaze seemed to hold him spellbound. He bent overhie mother and laid his fresh, brave young face on the cold, whiteface of his dying mother. 

"Promise me, Rex, " she whispered. 

"I promise, mother!" he cried. "God help me; if it will make your lastmoments happier, I consent. "

"Heaven bless you, my noble son!" whispered the quivering voice. "Youhave taken the bitter sting from death, and filled my heart withgratitude. Some day you will thank me for it, Rex. "

They were uttered! Oh, fatal words! Poor Rex, wedded and parted, hislove-dream broken, how little he knew of the bitter grief which was toaccrue 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. Hebowed his head on her cold hands. 

"I have no heart to give her, " he said, brokenly. "My heart is withDaisy, my sweet little lost love. "

Poor Rex! how little he knew Daisy was at that self-same momentwatching with beating heart the faint light of his window through thebranches of the trees--Daisy, whom he mourned as dead, alas! dead tohim forever, shut out from his life by the rash words of that fatallycruel promise. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

One thought only was uppermost in Daisy's mind as she sped swiftlydown the flower-bordered path in the moonlight, away from the husbandwho 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 grasswith a sharp little cry. 

"Oh, dear, what shall I do?" she cried out in sudden fright. "Howcould I know she was his sister when I told her my name?" A twig fellfrom the bough above her head brushed by some night-bird's wing. "Heis coming to search for me, " she whispered to herself. 

A tremor ran over her frame; the color flashed into her cheek andparted lips, and a startled, wistful brightness crept into the blueeyes. 

Ah! there never could have been a love so sweetly trustful andchild-like as little Daisy's for handsome Rex, her husband in nameonly. 

Poor, little, innocent Daisy! if she had walked straight back to him, crying out, "Rex, Rex, see, I am Daisy, your wife!" how much untoldsorrow might have been spared her. 

Poor, little, lonely, heart-broken child-bride! how was she to knowRex had bitterly repented and come back to claim her, alas! too late;and how he mourned her, refusing to be comforted, and how they forcedhim back from the edge of the treacherous shaft lest he should plungeheadlong 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 morestartled and amazed at finding him in such close proximity away downin Florida. 

She remembered he had spoken to her of his mother, as he clasped herto 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 ofhis mother's heart. 

She remembered how she had hid her happy, rosy, blushing face on hisbreast, and asked him if he was quite sure he loved her better thanPluma Hurlhurst, the haughty, beautiful heiress. 

"Yes, my pretty little sweetheart, a thousand times better, " he hadreplied, emphatically, holding her off at arm's-length, watching theheightened color that surged over the dainty, dimpled face so plainlydiscernible in the white, radiant starlight. 

Daisy rested her head on one soft, childish hand, and gazedthoughtfully up at the cold, brilliant stars that gemmed the heavensabove her. 

"Oh, if you had only warned me, little stars!" she said. "I was sohappy then; and now life is so bitter!"

A sudden impulse seized her, strong as her very life, to look upon hisface again. 

"I would be content to live my weary life out uncomplainingly then, "she said. 

Without intent or purpose she walked hurriedly back through thepansy-bordered path she had so lately traversed. 

The grand old trees seemed to stretch their giant arms protectinglyover her, as if to ward off all harm. 

The night-wind fanned her flushed cheeks and tossed her golden curlsagainst her wistful, tear-stained face. Noiselessly she crept up thewide, graveled path that led to his home--the home which should havebeen hers. 

Was it fancy? She thought she heard Rex's voice crying out: "Daisy, mydarling!" How pitifully her heart thrilled! Dear Heaven! if it hadonly been true. It was only the restless murmur of the waves sighingamong the orange-trees. 

A light burned dimly in an upper window. Suddenly a shadow fell acrossthe pale, silken curtains. She knew but too well whose shadow it was;the proud, graceful poise of the handsome head, and the line of thedark 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 howpassionately the poor little child-bride kissed the pale roses onwhich that shadow had fallen, and how she broke it from the stem andplaced it close to her beating heart--that lonely, starved littleheart, chilled under the withering frost of neglect, when life, loveand happiness should have been just bursting into bloom for her. 

"He said I had spoiled his life, " she sighed, leaning her pale facewearily against the dark-green ivy vines. "He must have meant I hadcome between him and Pluma. Will he go back to her, now that hebelieves me dead?"

One question alone puzzled her: Had Birdie mentioned her name, andwould he know it was she, whom every one believed lying so cold andstill in the bottomless pit? She could not tell. 

"If I could but see Birdie for a moment, " she thought, "and beseechher 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 sowell drifting so completely away from her and still remain silent. "Iwill watch over him from afar; I will be his guardian angel; I mustremain as one dead to him forever, " she told herself. 

Afar off, over the dancing, moonlighted waters she saw a pleasure-boatgliding swiftly over the rippling waves. She could hear their merrylaughter and gay, happy voices, and snatches of mirthful songs. Suddenly the band struck up an old, familiar strain. Poor little Daisyleaned her head against the iron railing of the porch and listened tothose cruel words--the piece that they played was "Love's YoungDream. "

Love's young dream! Ah! how cruelly hers had ended! She looked up atthe white, fleecy clouds above her, vaguely wondering why the love ofone person made the earth a very paradise, or a wilderness. As thegay, joyous music floated up to her the words of the poet found echoin 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 waspacing up and down the room now, his arms folded and his head bent onhis breast. Poor, patient little Daisy, watching alone out in thestarlight, was wondering if he was thinking of her. 

No thought occurred to her of being discovered there with her armsclasped around that marble pillar watching so intently the shadow ofthat graceful, manly figure pacing to and fro. 

No thought occurred to her that a strange event was at that momenttranspiring within those walls, or that something unusual was about tohappen. 

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 anorphan? Would it have been different if she had been the heiress ofWhitestone Hall?

She pitied herself for her utter loneliness. There was no one to whomshe could say one word of all that filled her heart and mind, no faceto kiss, no heart to lean on; she was so completely alone. And thiswas the hour her fate was being decided for her. There was no sympathyfor her, her isolation was bitter. She thought of all the heroines shehad ever read of. Ah, no one could picture such a sad fate as washers. 

A bright thought flashed across her lonely little heart. 

"His mother is there, " she sighed. "Ah, if I were to go to her and cryout: 'Love me, love me! I am your son's wife!' would she cast me fromher? Ah, no, surely not; a woman's gentle heart beats in her breast, awoman's tender pity. I will plead with her on my knees--to comfortme--to show me some path out of the pitiful darkness; I can love herbecause she is his mother. "

Daisy drew her breath quickly; the color glowed warmly on her cheekand 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, wereswimming with tears. A vain hope was struggling in her heart--Rex'smother might love her, because she worshiped her only son so dearly. 

Would she send her forth from that home that should have shelteredher, or would she clasp those little cold fingers in Rex's strongwhite ones, as she explained to him, as only a mother can, how sadlyhe had misjudged poor little Daisy--his wife?

No wonder her heart throbbed pitifully as she stole silentlyacross the wide, shadowy porch, and, quivering from head to foot, touched the bell that echoed with a resounding sound through the longentrance-hall. 

"I would like to see Mrs. Lyon, " she said, hesitatingly, to theservant 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 notrefuse 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 agrand piano, but the music evidently failed to charm her. She aroselistlessly and walked toward the window, which opened out upon thewide, cool, rose-embowered porch. 

The sunshine glimmered on her amber satin robe, and the whitefrost-work of lace at her throat, and upon the dark, rich beauty ofher 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 herrepeatedly it is an utter impossibility--you would not see her; butshe 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, ifyou 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 poorcreature begged so hard to see you I did feel a little sorry forher. "

"This does not interest me, Mrs. Corliss, " said Pluma, turning towardthe window, indicating the conversation was at an end--"not in theleast. "

"The Lord pity you, you stony-hearted creature!" murmured thesympathetic old lady to herself as the door closed between them. "Oneword wouldn't have cost you much, Heaven knows, it's mightly littlecomfort poor old master takes with you! You are no more like thebonny race of Hurlhursts than a raven is like a white dove!" And thepoor 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 wouldnot see you. But I suppose you are more satisfied now. "

"She utterly refuses to see me, does she, " asked the woman, in anagitated 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 earthcould change her mind, " she said; "and she is determined she won't seeyou, so you may as well consider that the end of it. "

Without another word the stranger turned and walked slowly down thepath and away from Whitestone Hall. 

"Fool that I was!" she muttered through her clinched teeth. "I mighthave foreseen this. But I will haunt the place day and night until Isee you, proud heiress of Whitestone Hall. We shall see--time willtell. "

Meanwhile Mrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, was staring after her withwondering eyes. 

"I have heard that voice and seen that face somewhere, " she ruminated, thoughtfully; "but where--where? There seems to be strange leaks inthis 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 amoment or so?" he inquired, irritably. "Where is she?"

"In the parlor, sir. "

With slow, feeble steps, more from weakness than age, Basil Hurlhurstwalked slowly down the corridor to the parlor. 

It was seldom he left his own apartments of late, yet Pluma neverraised her superb eyes from the book of engravings which lay in herlap 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. "Icongratulate 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 youcan not expect me to go into ecstasies over the event like a child inpinafores might. You ought to take it for granted that I'm glad youare beginning to see what utter folly it is to make such a recluse ofyourself. "

He bit his lip in chagrin. As is usually the case with invalids, hewas at times inclined to be decidedly irritable, as was the case justnow. 

"It is you who have driven me to seek the seclusion of my ownapartments, to be out of sight and hearing of the household ofsimpering idiots you insist upon keeping about you, " he cried, angrily. "I came back to Whitestone Hall for peace and rest. Do I getit? No. "

"That is not my fault, " she answered, serenely. "You do not minglewith 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 minglewith the chattering magpies you fill the house up with? Why, I cannever take a ramble in the grounds of an evening without stumblingupon a dozen or more pair of simpering lovers at every turn. I likedarkness and quiet. Night after night I find the grounds strung upwith these Chinese lanterns, and I can not even sleep in my bed forthe eternal brass bands at night; and in the daytime not a moment'squiet do I get for these infernal sonatas and screeching trills of thepiano. 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 havethings my own way. After I die you can turn it into a pandemonium, forall I care. "

Pluma flashed her large dark eyes upon him surprisedly, beginning tolose her temper, spurred on by opposition. 

"I am sure I do not mean to make a hermit of myself because you aretoo 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 facegrowing white and stern with suppressed excitement, "not anotherword. "

Pluma tossed her head contemptuously. When once her temper arose itwas 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 toWashington for a season, and in the summer to Long Branch orNewport--somewhere, anywhere, away from the detestable wavingcotton-fields. When you die I shall have it all set on fire. "

"Pluma!" he cried, hoarsely, rising to his feet and drawing hisstately, commanding figure to its full height, "I will not brook suchlanguage from a child who should at least yield me obedience, if notlove. You are not the heiress of Whitestone Hall yet, and you nevermay be. If I thought you really contemplated laying waste these wavingfields that have been my pride for long years--and my father's beforeme--I would will it to an utter stranger, so help me Heaven!"

Were his words prophetic? How little she knew the echo of these wordswere doomed to ring for all time down the corridors of her life! Howlittle we know what is in store for us!

"I am your only child, " said Pluma, haughtily; "you would not rob meof my birthright. I shall be forced to submit to your pleasure--whileyou are here--but, thank Heaven, the time is not far distant when Ishall 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 doas I please. " He repeated the words slowly after her, each one sinkinginto his heart like a poisoned arrow. "So you would thank Heaven formy death, would you?" he cried, with passion rising to a white heat. "Well, this is no better than I could expect from the daughter--ofsuch a mother. "

He had never intended speaking those words; but she goaded him on toit with her taunting, scornful smile, reminding him so bitterly of theone great error of his past life. 

He was little like the kind, courteous master of Whitestone Hall, whomnone named but to praise, as he stood there watching the immovableface of his daughter. All the bitterness of his nature was by passionrocked. No look of pain or anguish touched the dark beauty of thatsouthern 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 carefor me? Have you not cried out unceasingly for the golden-haired youngwife and the babe you lost, and that you wished Heaven had taken youtoo? Did I ever hear my mother's name upon your lips except with asneer? Do you expect these things made that mother's child more fondof you, were you twenty times my father?"

She stood up before him, proudly defiant, like a beautiful tragedyqueen, the sunlight slanting on the golden vines of her amber satinrobe, on the long, dark, silken curls fastened with a ruby star, andon the deep crimson-hearted passion-roses that quivered on her heavingbreast. There was not one feature of that gloriously dark face thatresembled the proud, cold man sitting opposite her. 

He knew all she had said was quite true. He had tried so hard to lovethis beautiful queenly girl from her infancy up. He was tender ofheart, honest and true; but an insurmountable barrier seemed everbetween them; each year found them further apart. 

Basil Hurlhurst lived over again in those few moments the terriblefolly that had cursed his youth, as he watched the passion-rocked facebefore him. 

"Youth is blind and will not see, " had been too bitterly true withhim. 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 todarken all of his after life. He was young and impulsive; he thoughtit was love that filled his heart for the beautiful stranger whoappeared alone and friendless in that little college town. 

He never once asked who or what she was, or from whence she came, thisbeautiful creature with the large, dark, dreamy eyes that thrilled hisheart into love. She carried the town by storm; every young man at thecollege was deeply, desperately in love. But Basil, the handsomest andwealthiest of them all, thought what a lark it would be to steal amarch on them all by marrying the dark-eyed beauty then and there. Henot only thought it, but executed it, but it was not the lark that hethought it was going to be. For one short happy week he lived in afool's paradise, then a change came over the spirit of his dreams. Inthat one week she had spent his year's income and all the money hecould borrow, then petulantly left him in anger. 

For two long years he never looked upon her face again. One stormynight she returned quite unexpectedly at Whitestone Hall, bringingwith her their little child Pluma, and, placing her in her father'sarms, bitter recriminations followed. Bitterly Basil Hurlhurstrepented that terrible mistake of his youth, that hasty marriage. 

When the morning light dawned he took his wife and child fromWhitestone Hall--took them abroad. What did it matter to him wherethey went? Life was the same to him in one part of the world asanother. For a year they led a weary life of it. Heaven only knew howweary he was of the woman the law called his wife!

One night, in a desperate fit of anger, she threw herself into thesea; her body was never recovered. Then the master of Whitestone Hallreturned with his child, a sadder and wiser man. 

But the bitterest drop in his cup had been added last. The golden-hairedyoung wife, the one sweet love whom he had married last, was takenfrom 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 himwhen he thought of his child!

When he saw a fair, golden-haired young girl, with eyes of blue, thepain in his heart almost stifled him. Some strange unaccountable fateurged 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 BasilHurlhurst's weary, tempest tossed life. 

No wonder he set his teeth hard together as he listened to the coldwords of the proud, peerless beauty before him, who bore everylineament of her mother's dark, fatal beauty--this daughter whoscornfully 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 asthe eye could reach, like a waving field of snow, laid waste beneaththe fire fiend's scorching breath! Never--never!

Then and there the proud, self-conscious young heiress lost allchances of reigning a regal queen, by _fair_ means, of WhitestoneHall. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The servant who opened the door for Daisy looked earnestly at thefair, pleading young face, framed in rings of golden hair, so pure andspiritual that it looked like an angel's with the soft white moonlightfalling 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 inthe childish blue eyes raised to his. 

"Rex's mother dead!" she repeated, slowly, wondering if she had heardaright. "Oh, my poor Rex, my poor Rex!"

How she longed to go to him and comfort him in that terrible hour, butshe dared not intrude upon him. 

"If there is any message you would like to leave, " said thekind-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 byherself 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 forestbird, went straight to his heart. 

Whatever the mission of this beautiful, mysterious visitor, he wouldcertainly 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 seemsmade up of disappointments, " she continued, as she walked slowly homeunder the restless, sighing green branches. 

It seemed so indeed. She was so young and inexperienced to be thrownso entirely upon the cold, pitiless world--cut off so entirely fromall human sympathy. She entered the house quite unobserved. Eve--bright, merry, dashing Eve--was singing like a lark in thedrawing-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, towardher 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 wouldhave passed on quietly, with no desire to know what was being said ofthemselves, when they heard their own names mentioned in such asneering 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 anactual shame allowing Daisy Brooks to remain here. Uncle Jet was amean old thing to send her here, where there were three marriageableyoung ladies. I tell you he did it out of pure spite. "

"I believe it, " answered Bess, spiritedly. "Every one of my beauseither 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 notknow to whom you refer. We have no company at the house just now. ' 'Imean that beautiful, golden-haired little fairy, with the rosy cheeksand large blue eyes. If not your guest, may I ask who she is?' I amcertainly compelled to answer so direct a thrust, " continued Bess, angrily; "and I ask in well-feigned wonder: 'Surely you do not meanDaisy Brooks, my mother's paid companion?'"

"What do they say to that?" asked Gertie, laughing heartily at herelder sister's ingenuity, and tossing her curl papers until every curlthreatened to tumble down. "That settles it, doesn't it?"

"Mercy, no!" cried Bess, raising her eyebrows; "not a bit of it. Themore I say against her--in a sweet way, of course--the more they aredetermined to form her acquaintance. "

"I don't see what every one can see in that little pink-and-whitebaby-face of hers to rave over so!" cried Gertie, hotly. "I can'timagine where in the world people see her. I have as much as told hershe was not expected to come into the parlor or drawing-room whenstrangers 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! Ithank you ever so much!'"

"Pshaw!" cried Bess, contemptuously. "That was a trick to make youbelieve she did not want to be observed by our guests. She is a sly, designing little creature, with her pretty face and soft, childishways. "

"But there is one point that seriously troubles me, " said Gertie, fastening the pink satin bow on her tiny slipper more securely, andbreaking 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 theair. Daisy Brooks has just the face to attract a handsome, debonairyoung 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 hassuch a way of attracting people toward her they quite forget yourpresence when she is around. 'When one rival leaves the field, anotherone is sure to come to the fore. ' That's a true saying, " said Gertie, meditatively. "You see, he did not marry the heiress of WhitestoneHall. So he is still in the market, to be captured by some luckygirl. "

"Well, if I am the lucky one, you must forgive me, Gertie. All is fairin love and war, you know. Besides, his wealth is too tempting to seeslip quietly by without a struggle. "

Before she could reply Eve popped in through the long French windowthat opened out on the porch. 

"Oh, I'm so tired of hearing you two talk of lovers and riches!" shecried, throwing herself down on the sofa. "I do hate to hear loveweighed against riches, as if it were a purchasable article. Accordingto your ideas, if a fellow was worth a hundred thousand, you wouldlove him moderately; but if he was worth half a million, you couldafford 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 inthat 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'senthusiasm. 

"Now, there's Rex Lyon, for instance, " persisted Eve, absolutelyrefusing to be silenced. "I would wager a box of the best kid gloveseither one of you would marry him to-morrow, if he were to ask you, ifhe hadn't a penny in his pocket. "

"Pshaw!" reiterated Gertie, and Bess murmured something about absurdideas; but nevertheless both sisters were blushing furiously to thevery roots of their hair. They well knew in their hearts what she saidwas 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, consentthat 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 toget his earthly brethren, for all I know!"

"Eve, you are actually absurd!" cried Bess, sharply. "This is merely aslight favor we wish you to do. "

"If you warn her not to do a thing, that is just what she will set herheart 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 Iever find out what it is, I'll do my very worst, because you kept itfrom me. "

"Well, " said Gertie, eagerly, "we want you to promise us not to giveDaisy 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, Iam under strict orders from my marriageable sisters not to. ' Is thatwhat you mean?"

"Eve, " they both cried in chorus, "don't be unsisterly; don't put astumbling-block in our path; rather remove it!"

"I shall not bind myself to such a promise!" cried Eve. "You aretrying to spoil my pet scheme. I believe you two are actually witchesand guessed it. What put it into your heads that I had any suchintentions anyhow?"

"Then you were actually thinking of going against our interest in thatway, " cried Gertie, white to the very lips, "you insolent littleminx!"

"I don't choose to remain in such polite society, " said Eve, with amocking courtesy, skipping toward the door. "I may take a notion towrite a little note to Mr. Rex, inviting him over here to see ourhousehold 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 nimbleof foot and disappeared up the stairway, three steps at a bound. 

"What a vixen our Gertie is growing to be!" she cried, pantingly, asshe 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 thethreshold. 

"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 whitebrow. 

"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 conversationdown-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 cameupstairs. "

"Oh, " said Eve, breathing freer, thinking to herself, "She has notheard what we said. I am thankful for that. "

"You must not talk like that, Daisy, " she said, gayly, clasping herarms caressingly around the slender figure leaning against thecasement; "I predict great things in store for you--wonderful things. Do not start and look at me so curiously, for I shall not tell youanything else, for it is getting dangerously near a certain forbiddensubject. 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 totell you now. "

Eve was almost frightened at the rapture that lighted up the beautifulface raised to her own. 

"Has any one called for me, Eve?" she asked, piteously. "Oh, Eve, tellme quickly. I have hoped against hope, almost afraid to indulge sosweet 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 diequickly out of the blue eyes and the rich peachlike bloom from thedelicate, dimpled cheeks. "I know something is troubling you greatly, little Daisy, " she said, "and I sympathize with you even if I may notshare your secret. "

"Every one is so cold and so cruel to me, I think I should die if Iwere 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, Ilike them for all time. I never could pretend a friendship I did notfeel. And I said to myself the first moment I saw you: 'What a sweetlittly 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 almostanything for you. "

She wondered why Daisy took her face between her soft little palms andlooked so earnestly down into her eyes, and kissed her lips sorepeatedly. 

Poor Daisy! if she had only confided in Eve--reckless, impulsive, warm-hearted, sympathetic Eve--it might have been better for her. "Nomatter what you might hear of me in the future, no matter what fatemight 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 sweetvoice sounded hollow and unnatural. "There are dark, pitiful secretsin many lives, " she said, "that drive one to the very verge of madnessin their woe. If you love me, pray for me, Eve. My feet are on theedge of a terrible precipice. "

In after years Eve never forgot the haunted look of despair thatcrossed the fair face of Daisy Brooks, as the words broke from herlips in a piteous cry. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The announcement of Mrs. Lyon's sudden and unexpected death causedgreat excitement and consternation the next morning at Glengrove. 

"Oh, dear!" cried Gertie, "how provokingly unfortunate for her to diejust 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 matterwas arranged especially for him; and my beautiful lilac silk is allmade, and so bewitchingly lovely, too!"

"What can't be cured must be endured, you know, " said Bess; "and nowthe best thing to be done is to send a note of condolence to him, extending our deepest sympathy, and offering him any assistance in ourpower; and be sure to add: 'We would be very pleased to have Birdiecome over here until you can make other arrangements for her. '"

"Have Birdie here!" flashed Gertie, angrily. "I actually think youhave 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 wayof bringing Rex over here every day?--he would come to see hissister--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, bearingGertie's monogram and tender-worded sympathy to the handsome youngheir, who sat all alone in that darkened chamber, wondering why Heavenhad been so unkind to him. 

An hour later Bess and Gertie were in the library arranging some newvolumes on the shelves. Mrs. Glenn sat in a large easy-chairsuperintending the affair, while Daisy stood at an open window, holding the book from which she had been reading aloud in her restlessfingers, her blue eyes gazing earnestly on the distant curling smokethat rose up lazily from the chimneys of Rex's home, and upon thebrilliant sunshine that lighted up the eastern windows with a blaze ofglory--as if there was no such thing as death or sorrow within thosepalatial walls--when Rex's answer was received. 

"It is from Rex!" cried Gertie, all in a flutter. "Shall I read italoud, mamma?" she asked, glancing furtively at Daisy, who stood atthe window, her pale, death-like face half buried in the lacecurtains. 

"It is certainly not a personal letter, " said Bess, maliciouslyglancing 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, " commentedMrs. Glenn, apologetically. "Read the letter aloud, of course, mydear. "

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 thewindow slipped down among the soft, billowy curtains in a deadlyswoon; but the three, so deeply engrossed in discussing the contentsof the note, did not notice it. At last Daisy opened her eyes, and theblue eyes were dazed with pain. She could hear them coupling the namesof Rex and Pluma Hurlhurst. Rex--her husband!

Daisy was blind and stupefied. She groped rather than walked from thelibrary--away from the three, who scarcely noticed her absence. 

Who cared that her heart was broken? Who cared that the cruel stab hadgone home to her tender, bleeding heart; that the sweet young face waswhiter than the petals of the star-bells tossing their white plumesagainst the casement?

Slowly, blindly, with one hand grasping the balusters, she went up thebroad staircase to her own room. 

She tried to think of everything on the way except the one thing thathad taken place. She thought of the story she had read, of a girl whowas slain by having a dagger plunged into her breast. The girl ran ashort distance, and when the dagger was drawn from the wound, she felldown dead. In some way she fancied she was like that girl--that, whenshe should reach her own room and stand face to face with her ownpain, she should drop down dead. 

The door was closed, and she stood motionless, trying to understandand realize what she had heard. 

"Have my senses deceived me?" She said the words over and over toherself. "Did I dream it? Can it even be possible Pluma Hurlhurst iscoming 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 whitejeweled hands upon his shoulder, or, perhaps, smoothing back the bonnybrown 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 dearerthan life mentioned with the name of Pluma Hurlhurst. 

"Oh, Rex, my love, my love!" she cried out, "I can not bear it anylonger. 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 acoward. 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 amyour wife. "

Suddenly, the solemn bells from Rex's home commenced tolling, andthrough the leafy branches of the trees she caught a glimpse of awhite face and bowed head, and of a proud, cold face bendingcaressingly 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 cryout, nor utter even a sigh. Like one turned to marble she, the poorlittle misguided child-wife, stood watching them with an intentnessverging 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 thetidy little waiting-maid coming to her and asking if she would pleasecome down to tea. She shook her head but no sound issued from thewhite lips, and the maid went softly away, closing the door behindher. 

Slowly the sun sunk in the west in a great red ball of fire. The lightdied out of the sky, and the song birds trilled their plaintivegood-night songs in the soft gloaming. Still Daisy sat with her handscrossed in her lap, gazing intently at the window, where she had seenPluma 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 seeyou. Are you here, Daisy Brooks?"

"Yes, " said Daisy, controlling her voice by a violent effort. "Won'tyou sit down? I will light the gas. "

"Oh, no, indeed!" cried Gertie. "I came up to ask you if you wouldplease sew a little on my ball dress to-night. I can not use it justnow; 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 doit? Quietly she followed Gertie to her pretty little blue and goldboudoir, making no remonstrance. She was to sew on a ball dress whilethe heiress of Whitestone Hall was consoling her young husband in hisbitter sorrow?

The shimmering billows of silk seemed swimming before her eyes, andthe frost-work of seed-pearls to waver through the blinding tears thatwould force themselves to her eyes. Eve was not there. How pitifullylonely poor Daisy felt! The face, bent so patiently over the lilacsilk, had a strange story written upon it. But the two girls, discussing the events of the day, did not glance once in herdirection; their thoughts and conversation were of the handsome youngheiress and Rex. 

"For once in your life you were wrong, " said Bess. "The way affairsappear now does not look much like a broken-off marriage, I can assureyou. "

"Those who have seen her say she is peculiarly beautiful andfascinating, though cold, reserved, and as haughty as a queen, " saidGertie. 

"Cold and reserved, " sneered Bess. "I guess you would not have thoughtso if you had been at the drawing-room window to-day and seen herbending over Rex so lovingly. I declare I expected every moment to seeher 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 alldirections. 

"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 finishthat lily on the front breadth and twine among the blossoms for myhair. What do you suppose I'm going to do now, you provoking girl? Itis 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 tomake 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 intothe very heart of the frosted lily over which she bent, but the lily'spetals 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 courteousand noble, she so royal and queenly. 

"Of course we must call upon her if she is to be Rex's wife, " saidGertie, spitefully. "I foresee she will be exceedingly popular. "

"We must also invite her to Glengrove, " said Bess, thoughtfully. "Itis the least we can do, and it is expected of us. I quite forgot tomention one of their servants was telling Jim both Rex and littleBirdie intend to accompany Miss Hurlhurst back to Whitestone Hall assoon after the funeral as matters can be arranged. "

"Why, that is startling news indeed! Why, then, they will probablyleave some time this week!" cried Gertie. 

"Most probably, " said Bess. "You ought certainly to send over yournote this evening--it is very early yet. "

"There is no one to send, " said Gertie. "Jim has driven over toNatchez, 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 thatdirection. 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 thatdress to-night. I wish you to take a note over to the large gray stonehouse 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'swhite 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 agonyof entreaty, "I can not--oh, indeed I can not! Ask anything of me butthat 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. "Ido not comprehend you. "

"I--I can not take the note, " she said, in a frightened whisper. "I donot--I--"

She stopped short in utter confusion. 

"I choose you shall do just as I bid you, " replied Gertie, in herimperious, scornful anger. "It really seems to me you forget yourposition here, Miss Brooks. How dare you refuse me?"

Opposition always strengthened Gertie's decision, and she determinedDaisy should take her note to Rex Lyon at all hazards. 

The eloquent, mute appeal in the blue eyes raised to her own wasutterly lost on her. 

"The pride of these dependent companions is something ridiculous, " shewent on, angrily. "You consider yourself too fine, I suppose, to bemade a messenger of. " Gertie laughed aloud, a scornful, mocking laugh. "Pride and poverty do not work very well together. You may go to yourroom now and get your hat and shawl. I shall have the letter writtenin a very few minutes. There will be no use appealing to mamma. Youought to know by this time we overrule her objections always. "

It was too true, Mrs. Glenn never had much voice in a matter whereBess or Gertie had decided the case. 

Like one in a dream Daisy turned from them. She never remembered howshe gained her own room. With cold, tremulous fingers she fastened herhat, tucking the bright golden hair carefully beneath her veil, andthrew her shawl over her shoulders, just as Gertie approached, letterin hand. 

"You need not go around by the main road, " she said, "there is a muchnearer path leading down to the stone wall. You need not wait for ananswer: there will be none. The servants over there are awkward, blundering creatures--do not trust it to them--you must deliver it toRex himself. "

"I make one last appeal to you, Miss Gertie. Indeed, it is not pridethat prompts me. I could not bear it. Have pity on me. You are gentleand kind to others; please, oh, please be merciful to me!"

"I have nothing more to say upon the subject--I have said you were togo. You act as if I were sending you to some place where you mightcatch the scarlet fever or the mumps. You amuse me; upon my word youdo. Rex is not dangerous, neither is he a Bluebeard; his only fault isbeing alarmingly handsome. The best advice I can give you is, don'tadmire him too much. He should be labeled, 'Out of the market. '"

Gertie tripped gayly from the room, her crimson satin ribbonsfluttering after her, leaving a perceptible odor of violets in theroom, while Daisy clutched the note in her cold, nervous grasp, walking like one in a terrible dream through the bright patches ofglittering moonlight, through the sweet-scented, rose-bordered path, on through the dark shadows of the trees toward the home of Rex--herhusband. 

A soft, brooding silence lay over the sleeping earth as Daisy, with asinking heart, drew near the house. Her soft footfalls on the greenmossy earth made no sound. 

Silently as a shadow she crept up to the blossom-covered porch; someone was standing there, leaning against the very pillar around whichshe had twined her arms as she watched Rex's shadow on the roses. 

The shifting moonbeams pierced the white, fleecy clouds that envelopedthem, and as he turned his face toward her she saw it was Rex. Shecould almost have reached out her hand and touched him from where shestood. She was sorely afraid her face or her voice might startle himif she spoke to him suddenly. 

"I do not need to speak, " she thought. "I will go up to him and laythe letter in his hand. "

Then a great intense longing came over her to hear his voice and knowthat he was speaking to her. She had quite decided to pursue thiscourse, when the rustle of a silken garment fell upon her ear. Sheknew 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 whitehand 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 andask you what interest those dancing shadows had for you, but I couldnot make up my mind to disturb you. I often fancy you do not know howmuch time you spend in thought. "

Pluma was wondering if he was thinking of that foolish, romantic fancythat had come so near separating them--his boyish fancy for DaisyBrooks, their overseer's niece. No, surely not. He must have forgottenher 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 andtalk to me at such times, you would break me of it. "

The idea pleased her. A bright flush rose to her face, and she madehim some laughing reply, and he looked down upon her with a kindlysmile. 

Oh! the torture of it to the poor young wife standing watching them, with heart on fire in the deep shadow of the crimson-heartedpassion-flowers that quivered on the intervening vines. The letter sheheld in her hand slipped from her fingers into the bushes allunheeded. She had but one thought--she must get away. The very airseemed to stifle her; her heart seemed numb--an icy band seemedpressing round it, and her poor forehead was burning hot. It did notmatter much where she went, nobody loved her, nobody cared for her. Assoftly as she came, she glided down the path that led to theentrance-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 herfeet. Her eyes were hot and dry; tears would have been a world ofrelief to her, but none came to her parched eyelids. 

She paid little heed to the direction she took. One idea alone tookpossession of her--she must get away. 

"If I could only go back to dear old Uncle John, " she sighed. "Hislove 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 sunbeamduring all those years when no one lived at Whitestone Hall and thewild ivy climbed riotously over the windows and doors. Even Septima'svoice would have sounded so sweet to her. She would have lived overagain those happy, childish days, if she only could. She rememberedhow Septima would send her to the brook for water, and how shesprinkled every flower in the path-way that bore her name; and howSeptima would scold her when she returned with her bucket scarce halffull; and how she had loved to dream away those sunny summer days, lying under the cool, shady trees, listening to the songs the robinssang 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 hersome day. She had wondered how she would know him, and what were thewords he first would say! If he would come riding by, as the judge didwhen "Maud Muller stood in the hay-fields;" and she remembered, too, the story of "Rebecca at the Well. " A weary smile flitted over herface as she remembered when she went to the brook she had always puton her prettiest blue ribbons, in case she might meet her hero. 

Oh, those sweet, bright, rosy dreams of girlhood! What a pity it isthey do not last forever! Those girlish dreams, where glowing fancyreigns supreme, and the prosaic future is all unknown. She rememberedher meeting with Rex, how every nerve in her whole being thrilled, andhow she had felt her cheeks grow flaming hot, just as she had readthey would do when she met the right one. That was how she had knownRex was the right one when she had shyly glanced up, from under herlong eyelashes, into the gay, brown hazel eyes, fixed upon her soquizzically, as he took the heavy basket from her slender arms, thatnever-to-be-forgotten June day, beneath the blossoming magnolia-tree. 

Poor child! her life had been a sad romance since then. How strange itwas she was fleeing from the young husband whom she had married andwas so quickly parted from!

All this trouble had come about because she had so courageouslyrescued her letter from Mme. Whitney. 

"If he had not bound me to secrecy, I could have have cried out beforethe whole world I was his wife, " she thought. 

A burning flush rose to her face as she thought how cruelly he hadsuspected her, this poor little child-bride who had never known onewrong or sinful thought in her pure, innocent young life. 

If he had only given her the chance of explaining how she had happenedto be there with Stanwick; if they had taken her back she must haveconfessed 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 hiswife, " she thought. "He believed I was free to woo and win, because Idared not tell him I was Rex's wife. " Yet the thought of Stanwickalways brought a shudder to her pure young mind. She could notunderstand why he would have resorted to such desperate means to gainan unwilling bride. 

"Not yet seventeen. Ah, what a sad love-story hers had been. Howcruelly love's young dream had been blighted, " she told herself; andyet she would not have exchanged that one thrilling, ecstatic momentof rapture when Rex had clasped her in his arms and whispered: "Mydarling wife, " for a whole lifetime of calm happiness with any oneelse. 

On and on she walked through the violet-studded grass, thinking--thinking. Strange fancies came thronging to her overwrought brain. She pushed herveil back from her face and leaned against the trunk of a tree; her brainwas dizzy and her thoughts were confused; the very stars seemed dancingriotously in the blue sky above her, and the branches of the trees werewhispering strange fancies. Suddenly a horseman, riding a coal-blackcharger, came cantering swiftly up the long avenue of trees. He saw thequiet 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 toGlengrove and that vicinity? I am looking for a hostelry near it. Iseem to have lost my way. Will you kindly direct me?" he asked, "or tothe home of Mr. Rex Lyon?"

The voice sounded strangely familiar to Daisy. She was dimly conscioussome one was speaking to her. She raised her face up and gazed at thespeaker. The cold, pale moonlight fell full upon it, clearly revealingits strange, unearthly whiteness, and the bright flashing eyes, gazingdreamily past the terror-stricken man looking down on her, with white, livid lips and blanched, horror-stricken face. His eyes almost leapedfrom their sockets in abject terror, as Lester Stanwick gazed on theupturned 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 sleepin the depths of her tomb, come back to haunt me for driving her toher doom?"

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Rex and Pluma talked for some time out in the moonlight, then Rexexcused himself, and on the plea of having important business lettersto write retired to the library. 

For some minutes Pluma leaned thoughtfully against the railing. Thenight was still and clear; the moon hung over the dark trees; floodsof silvery light bathed the waters of the glittering sea, the sleepingflowers and the grass, and on the snowy orange-blossoms and goldenfruit amid the green foliage. 

"I shall always love this fair southern home, " she thought, a brightlight creeping into her dark, dazzling eyes. "I am Fortune'sfavorite, " she said, slowly. "I shall have the one great prize I covetmost 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 DaisyBrooks--simple, unpretentious Daisy Brooks? Thank God she is dead!"she cried, vehemently. "I would have periled my very soul to have wonhim. "

Even as the thought shaped itself in her mind, a dark form steppedcautiously forward. 

She was not startled; a passing wonder as to who it might be struckher. She did not think much about it; a shadow in the moonlight didnot frighten her. 

"Pluma!" called a low, cautious voice, "come down into the garden; Imust 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 seizedher. 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 atany cost. I dare not defy him. Better temporize with him. " Shemuttered the words aloud, and she was shocked to see how changed andhoarse her own voice sounded. "Women have faced more deadly peril thanthis, " she muttered, "and cleverly outwitted ingenious foes. I _must_win by stratagem. "

She quickly followed the tall figure down the path that divided thelittle garden from the shrubbery. 

"I knew you would not refuse me, Pluma, " he said, clasping her handsand kissing her cold lips. He noticed the glance she gave him hadnothing in it but coldness and annoyance. "You do not tell me you arepleased to see me, Pluma, and yet you have promised to be my wife. "She stood perfectly still leaning against an oleander-tree. "Why don'tyou speak to me, Pluma?" he cried. "By Heaven! I am almost beginningto mistrust you. You remember your promise, " he said, hurriedly--"if Iremoved the overseer's niece from your path you were to reward mewith your heart and hand. " She would have interrupted him, but hesilenced her with a gesture. "You said your love for Rex had turned tobitter hatred. You found he loved the girl, and that would be aglorious revenge. I did not have to resort to abducting her from theseminary as we had planned. The bird flew into my grasp. I would haveplaced her in the asylum you selected, but she eluded me by leapinginto the pit. I have been haunted by her face night and day eversince. 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 achance to speak. " Her hands dropped nervously by her side. There werefierce, rebellious thoughts in her heart, but she dare not give themutterance. "What have I done to deserve all this?" she asked, tryingto assume a tender tone she was far from feeling. 

"What have you done?" he cried, hoarsely. "Why, I left you atWhitestone 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, ifI had found you his wife and false to your trust?"

"You forget yourself, Lester, " she said; "gentlemen never threatenwomen. "

He bit his lip angrily. 

"There are extreme cases of desperation, " he made reply. "You mustkeep your promise, " he said, determinedly. "No other man must darespeak to you of love. "

She saw the angry light flame into his eyes, and trembled under herstudied composure; yet not the quiver of an eyelid betrayed heremotion. She had not meant to quarrel with him; for once in her lifeshe forgot her prudence. 

"Suppose that, by exercise of any power you think you possess, youcould really compel me to be your wife, do you think it would benefityou? I would learn to despise you. What would you gain by it?"

The answer sprung quickly to his lips: "The one great point for whichI am striving--possession of Whitestone Hall;" but he was toodiplomatic to utter the words. She saw a lurid light in his eyes. 

"You shall be my wife, " he said, gloomily. "If you have beencherishing any hope of winning Rex Lyon, abandon it at once. As alast resort, I would explain to him how cleverly you removed thepretty little girl he loved from his path. "

"You dare not!" she cried, white to the very lips. "You have forgottenyour own share in that little affair. Who would believe you acted upona woman's bidding? You would soon be called to account for it. Youforget that little circumstance, Lester; you dare not go to Rex!" Heknew what she said was perfectly true. He had not intended going toRex; he knew it would be as much as his life was worth to encounterhim. He was aware his name had been coupled with Daisy's in thejournals which had described her tragic death. He knew Rex had fallenmadly, desperately in love with little Daisy Brooks, but he did notdream he had made her his wife. "You have not given me time to explainwhy I am here. "

"I have heard all about it, " he answered, impatiently; "but I do notunderstand why they sent for you. "

"Mrs. Lyon requested it, " she replied, quietly. "Rex simply obeyed herwishes. "

"Perhaps she looked upon you as her future daughter-in-law, " sneeredLester, covertly. "I have followed you to Florida to prevent it; Iwould follow you to the ends of the earth to prevent it! A promise tome can not be lightly broken. "

Not a feature of that proud face quivered to betray the sharp spasm offear 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 withcold. "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 seadashed up on the distant beach with a long, low wash. He was wonderinghow far she was to be trusted. 

"You may have perfect confidence in me, Lester, " she said; "my wordought to be sufficient, " as if quite divining his thoughts. "You needhave no fear; I will be true to you. "

"I shall remain away until this affair has blown over, " he replied. "Ican live as well in one part of the country as another, thanks to theincome 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 riotouslysquandered the vast inheritance that had been left him, and he wasstanding on the verge of ruin. " A marriage with the wealthy heiresswould save him at the eleventh hour. "I will trust you, Pluma, " hecontinued. "I know, you will keep your vow. "

The false ring of apparent candor did not deceive her; she knew itwould 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 painedme by your distrust. "

He saw she was anxious to get away from him, and he bit his lip withvexation; her pretty, coaxing manner did not deceive him one whit, yethe clasped his arms in a very lover-like fashion around her as hereplied:

"Forget that it ever existed, my darling. Where there is such ardent, passionate love, there is always more or less jealousy and fear. Doyou realize I am making an alien of myself for your sweet sake? Icould 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 shallprobably be Rex's wife when we meet again. Then his threats will beuseless; I will scornfully deny it. He has no proofs. "

She talked to him so gracefully, so tenderly, at times, he was almosttempted to believe she actually cared for him more than she wouldadmit. Still he allowed it would do no harm to keep a strict watch ofher movements. 

"Good-bye, Pluma, dearest, " he said, "I shall keep you constantlyadvised of my whereabouts. As soon as matters can be arrangedsatisfactorily, I am coming back to claim you. "

Another moment and she was alone, walking slowly back to the house, avery torrent of anger in her proud, defiant heart. 

"I must hurry matters up, delays are dangerous, " she thought, walkingslowly up the broad path toward the house. 

 * * * * *

Slowly the long hours of the night dragged themselves by, yet Daisydid not return to Glengrove. The hours lengthened into days, and daysinto weeks, still there was no trace of her to be found. Gertie'sexplanation 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 camewith Birdie to bid us good-bye. "

"She probably read it and destroyed it, " said Gertie, "Well, there wasnothing in it very particular. Toward the last of it I mentioned Iwould send the note over by Daisy Brooks, my mother's companion. Morethan likely she took umbrage at that. "

"That was a very unkind remark, " asserted Eve. "You had no business tomention it at all; it was uncalled for. "

"Well, she would not have known it if she had not read it, " repliedGertie. "You must admit that. "

Mrs. Glenn felt sorely troubled. In the short time Daisy had been withher she had put unlimited confidence in her. 

No one thought of searching for her; they all accepted the facts asthe case presented itself to them. Daisy had certainly left them ofher own free will. 

Eve alone felt distressed. 

"I know everything looks that way, but I shall never believe it, " shecried. 

She remembered the conversation she had so lately had with Daisy. Howshe 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 aprecipice. No matter what I may be tempted to do, do not lose faith inme, Eve; always believe in me. "

Poor little Daisy! what was the secret sorrow that was goading her onto 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 ifI thought for one moment deceit lay brooding in a face so fair aslittle Daisy Brooks's. "

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The months flew quickly by; the cold winter had slipped away, and thebright green grass and early violets were sprinkling the distanthill-slopes. The crimson-breasted robins were singing in the buddingbranches of the trees, and all Nature reminded one the glorious springhad come. 

Rex Lyon stood upon the porch of Whitestone Hall gazing up at thewhite, fleecy clouds that scudded over the blue sky, lost in deepthought. 

He was the same handsome, debonair Rex, but ah, how changed! Themerry, laughing brown eyes looked silent and grave enough now, and thelips the drooping brown mustache covered rarely smiled. Even his voiceseemed to have a deeper tone. 

He had done the one thing that morning which his mother had asked himto do with her dying breath--he had asked Pluma Hurlhurst to be hiswife. 

The torture of the task seemed to grow upon him as the weeks rolledby, and in desperation he told himself he must settle the matter atonce, or he would not have the strength to do it. 

He never once thought what he should do with his life after he marriedher. He tried to summon up courage to tell her the story of hismarriage, that his hopes, his heart, and his love all lay in the graveof his young wife. Poor Rex, he could not lay bare that sweet, sadsecret; he could not have borne her questions, her wonder, herremarks, and have lived; his dead love was far too sacred for that; hecould not take the treasured love-story from his heart and hold it upto 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 shouldfind Pluma. She was standing before the fire. Although it was earlyspring the mornings were chilly, and a cheerful fire burned in thegrate, throwing a bright, glowing radiance over the room and over theexquisite morning toilet of white cashmere, with its white lacefrills, relieved here and there with coquettish dashes of scarletblossoms, which Pluma wore, setting off her graceful figure to suchqueenly advantage. 

Rex looked at her, at the imperious beauty any man might have beenproud to win, secretly hoping she would refuse him. 

"Good-morning, Rex, " she said, holding out her white hands to him. "Iam glad you have come to talk to me. I was watching you walking up anddown under the trees, and you looked so lonely I half made up my mindto join you. "

A lovely color was deepening in her cheeks, and her eyes droopedshyly. He broke right into the subject at once while he had thecourage to do it. 

"I have something to say to you, Pluma, " he began, leading her to anadjacent sofa and seating himself beside her. "I want to ask you ifyou 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 saythat 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 oneword of loving me. "

The remark was so unexpected Rex seemed for a few moments to beunable to reply to it. Looking at the eager, expectant face turnedtoward him, it appeared ungenerous and unkind not to give her oneaffectionate word. Yet he did not know how to say it; he had neverspoken a loving word to any one except Daisy, his fair littlechild-bride. 

He tried hard to put the memory of Daisy away from him as heanswered:

"The question is so important that most probably I have thought moreof it than of any words which should go with it. "

"Oh, that is it, " returned Pluma, with a wistful little laugh. "Mostmen, when they ask women to marry them, say something of love, do theynot?"

"Yes, " he replied, absently. 

"You have had no experience, " laughed Pluma, archly. 

She was sorely disappointed. She had gone over in her own imaginationthis very scene a thousand times, of the supreme moment he would clasphis arms around her, telling her in glowing, passionate words howdearly he loved her and how wretched his life would be without her. Hedid nothing of the kind. 

Rex was thinking he would have given anything to have been able tomake love to her--anything for the power of saying tender words--shelooked so loving. 

Her dark, beautiful face was so near him, and her graceful figure soclose, that he could have wound his arm around her, but he did not. Inspite of every resolve, he thought of Daisy the whole time. Howdifferent that other love-making had been! How his heart throbbed, andevery endearing name he could think of trembled on his lips, as hestrained Daisy to his heart when she had bashfully consented to be hiswife!

That love-making was real substance; this one only the shadow oflove. 

"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 orany one in the wide world?"

"I will devote my whole life to you, study your every wish, " heanswered, 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. Hetook 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 thebeautiful crimson lips; "you shall never regret it. You are so kind, I am going to impose on your good nature. You have promised me youwill be my wife--when may I claim you, Pluma?"

"Do you wish it to be soon?" she asked, hesitatingly, wondering how hewould answer her. 

"Yes, " he said, absently; "the sooner it is over the better I shall bepleased. "

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 aspossible, in case you promised to marry me, " he said. "Suppose ittakes 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 theyparted--she, happy in the glamour of her love-dream; he, praying toHeaven from the depths of his miserable heart, to give him strength tocarry 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 wasdevoted to her memory. 

His life was narrowing down. He was all kindness, consideration anddevotion; but the one supreme magnet of all--love--was wanting. 

In vain Pluma exerted all her wondrous powers of fascination to winhim more completely. How little he dreamed of the depths of love whichcontrolled that passionate heart, every throb of which was forhim--that to have won from him one token of warm affection she wouldhave given all she held dear in this world. 

"How does it happen, Rex, " she asked, one evening, "you have not askedme to sing to you since you have asked me to be your wife? Music usedto be such a bond of sympathy between us. "

There was both love and reproach in her voice. He heard neither. Hehad simply forgotten it. 

"I have been thinking of other things, I presume. Allow me to make upfor 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 bravelyback. She had hoped he would clasp her in his arms, whispering somesweet compliment, then say to her "Darling, won't you sing to menow?"

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 backdreamily against the crimson cushions. He would not be obliged totalk; for once--just once--he would let his fancies roam where theywould. He had often heard Pluma sing before, but never in the wayshe sung to-night. A low, thrilling, seductive voice full ofpleading, passionate tenderness--a voice that whispered of thesweet irresistible power of love, that carried away the hearts ofher 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 andtrembling 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 itbefore. 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 towardhim. 

"It is a pretty title, " she said, in her low, musical voice, "'DaisiesGrowing o'er my Darling's Grave. '"

In the terrible look of agony that swept over his handsome face, Plumaread the secret of his life; the one secret she had dreaded stood asclearly revealed to her as though it had been stamped in glowingletters upon his brow. She would have stood little chance of beingRex's wife if Daisy Brooks had lived. 

Who would have dreamed the beautiful, proud young heiress could havecursed the very memory of the young girl whom she believed to bedead--lying all uncared for in a neglected, lonely grave?

Rex felt sorely disturbed. He never remembered how the remainder ofthe evening passed. Ah, heavens! how his mind wandered back to thatsweet love-dream so cruelly broken. A mist as of tears spread beforehis eyes, and shut the whole world from him as he glanced out of thewindow 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--thosesmall white hands upon one of which his engagement-ring glowed with athousand prismatic hues. 

"Why should it?" he asked, attempting to laugh lightly. "I admired itperhaps 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 toyou, Rex?"

He made some indistinct answer, little dreaming of how wofully thelittle anecdote would affect him. 

"I do not like to bring up old, unpleasant subjects, Rex. But do youremember 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 shealluded to. 

"Do you remember what a romantic interest you once took in ouroverseer's niece--the one who eloped with Lester Stanwick fromboarding-school--the one whose death we afterward read of? Her namewas Daisy--Daisy Brooks. "

If she had suddenly plunged a dagger into his heart with her whitejeweled hands he could not have been more cruelly startled. He couldhave cried aloud with the sharp pain of unutterable anguish thatmemory brought him. His answer was a bow; he dared not look up lestthe 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 anunfrequented road to-day when I came across a strange, pathetic sight. The poor old man was putting the last touches to a plain wooden crosshe had just erected under a magnolia-tree, which bore the simplewords: 'To the memory of Daisy Brooks, aged sixteen years. ' Around thecross the grass was thickly sown with daisies. 

"'She does not rest here, ' the old man said, drawing his rough sleeveacross his tear-dimmed eyes; 'but the poor little girl loved this spotbest of any. '"

Pluma wondered why Rex took her just then in his arms for the firsttime and kissed her. He was thanking her in his heart; he could haveknelt 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 inthe moonlight. 

"My God!" he cried, burying his face in his hands, "this poor JohnBrooks did what I, her husband, should have done; but it is nottoo late now. I shall honor your memory, my darling; I shall havea costly marble monument erected to your memory, bearing theinscription: '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 ordereda 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 kneelingdown before her, tell her all the story of his sweet, sad love-dreamwith his face pressed close against the cold, pulseless marble--tellher 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!" hesighed. 

How bitterly he regretted he could not live that one brief hour of hispast life over again--how differently he would act!

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

While Rex was penning his all-important letter in his room, Pluma waswalking restlessly to and fro in her boudoir, conning over in her mindthe events of the evening. 

Rex had asked her to be his wife, but she stood face to face with thetruth at last--he did not love her. It was not only a blow of thekeenest and cruelest kind to her affection, but it was the cruelestblow her vanity could possibly have received. 

To think that she, the wealthy, petted heiress, who counted heradmirers by the score, should have tried so hard to win the love ofthis one man and have failed; that her beauty, her grace, her wit, andher talent had been lavished upon him, and lavished in vain. "Was thatsimple girl, with her shy, timid, shrinking manner, more lovable thanI?" she asked herself, incredulously. 

She could not realize it--she, whose name was on the lips of men, whopraised her as the queen of beauty, and whom fair women envied as onewho had but to will to win. 

It seemed to her a cruel mockery of fate that she, who had everythingthe world could give--beauty and fortune--should ask but this onegift, and that it should be refused her--the love of the man who hadasked 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 wouldpersevere, that her great love must in time prevail. 

"I must never let him find me dull or unhappy, " she thought. "I mustcarefully hide all traces of pique or annoyance. "

She would do her best to entertain him, and make it the study of herlife to win his love. 

She watched the stars until they faded from the skies, then buried herface in her pillow, falling into an uneasy slumber, through which abeautiful, flower-like, girlish face floated, and a slight, delicateform 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 onher pillow and opened her eyes. The stars were still glimmering in themoonlighted 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 theseminary that Rex might believe him her lover and turn to me forsympathy. I will not think of it, " she cried; "I am not one to flinchfrom a course of action I have marked out for myself, no matter whatthe consequences may be, if I only gain Rex's love. "

And Pluma, the bride soon to be, turned her flushed face again to thewall to dream again of Daisy Brooks. 

She little dreamed Rex, too, was watching the stars, as wakeful asshe, thinking of the past. 

Then he prayed Heaven to help him, so that no unworthy thought shouldenter his mind. After that he slept, and one of the most painful daysof his life was ended. 

The days at Whitestone Hall flew by on rapid wings in a round ofgayety. The Hall was crowded with young folks, who were to remainuntil after the marriage. Dinner parties were followed by May-poledances out on the green lawns, and by charades and balls in theevening. The old Hall had never echoed with such frolicsome mirthbefore. Rex plunged into the excitement with strange zest. No oneguessed that beneath his winning, careless smile his heart was almostbreaking. 

One morning Pluma was standing alone on the vine-covered terrace, waiting for Rex, who had gone out to try a beautiful spirited horsethat had just been added to the stables of Whitestone Hall. Shenoticed he had taken the unfrequented road the magnolia-trees shaded. That fact bore no significance, certainly; still there was a strongfeeling of jealousy in her heart as she remembered that little woodencross he would be obliged to pass. Would he stop there? She could nottell. 

"How I love him--and how foolish I am!" she laughed, nervously. "Ihave no rival, yet I am jealous of his very thoughts, lest they dwellon any one else but myself. I do not see how it is, " she said, thoughtfully, to herself, "why people laugh at love, and think itweakness or a girl's sentimental folly. Why, it is the strongest ofhuman passions!"

She heard people speak of her approaching marriage as "a grandmatch"--she heard him spoken of as a wealthy Southerner, and shelaughed 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 therippling 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 theyshould pass. She did not feel in the humor just then to listen to MissRaynor's chatter or pretty Grace Alden's gossip. 

"Of course every one has a right to their own opinion, " Grace wassaying, with a toss of her pretty nut-brown curls, "and I, for one, donot 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 afraidit 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 andseems to live on his smiles? And as for Rex, he always seems to belooking over her head into the distance, as though he saw somethingthere far more interesting than the face of his bride-to-be. Thatdoesn't look much like love or a contented lover. "

"If you had seen him this morning you might well say he did not lookcontented, " replied Miss Raynor, mysteriously. "I was out for amorning ramble, and, feeling a little tired, I sat down on amoss-covered stone to rest. Hearing the approaching clatter of ahorse's hoofs, I looked up and saw Rex Lyon coming leisurely down theroad. I could not tell you what prompted me to do it, but I drewquietly back behind the overhanging alder branches that skirted thebrook, admiring him all unseen. "

"Oh, dear!" cried Grace, merrily, "this is almost too good to keep. Who would imagine dignified Miss Raynor peeping admiringly athandsome Rex, screened by the shadows of the alders!"

"Now don't be ridiculous, Grace, or I shall be tempted not to tell youthe most interesting part, " returned Miss Raynor, flushing hotly. 

"Oh, that would be too cruel, " cried Grace, who delighted on anythingbordering 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 quicklydismounted from his horse, and picked up from the roadside a handfulof 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 hislips, murmuring passionate, loving words over them. For one briefinstant his face was turned toward me, and I saw there were tearsstanding in his eyes, and there was a look on his face I shall neverforget to my dying day. There was such hopeless woe upon it--indeedone might have almost supposed, by the expression of his face, he waswaiting for his death-sentence to be pronounced instead of a marriageceremony, which was to give him the queenly heiress of Whitestone Hallfor a bride. "

"Perhaps there is some hidden romance in the life of handsome Rex theworld does not know of, " suggested Grace, sagely. 

"I hope not, " replied Miss Raynor. "I would hate to be a rival ofPluma Hurlhurst's. I have often thought, as I watched her with Rex, itmust be terrible to worship one person so madly. I have often thoughtPluma's a perilous love. "

"Do not speak so, " cried Grace. "You horrify me. Whenever I see herface I am afraid those words will be ringing in my ears--a perilouslove. "

Miss Raynor made some laughing rejoinder which Pluma, white andtrembling behind the ivy vines, did not catch, and still discussingthe affair, they moved on, leaving Pluma Hurlhurst standing alone, face to face with the truth, which she had hoped against hope wasfalse. Rex, who was so soon to be her husband, was certainly not herlover. 

Her keen judgment had told her long ago all this had come aboutthrough his mother's influence. 

Every word those careless lips had uttered came back to her heart witha cruel stab. 

"Even my guests are noticing his coldness, " she cried, with ahysterical little sob. "They are saying to each other, 'He does notlove me'--I, who have counted my triumphs by the scores. I haverevealed my love in every word, tone and glance, but I can not awakenone sentiment in his proud, cold heart. "

When she remembered the words, "He pressed them to his lips, murmuringpassionate, loving words over them, " she almost cried aloud in herfierce, angry passion. She knew, just as well as though she hadwitnessed him herself, that those wild flowers were daisies, and sheknew, too, why he had kissed them so passionately. She saw the sunshining on the trees, the flower-beds were great squares and circlesof color, the fountains sparkled in the sunlight, and restlessbutterflies flitted hither and thither. 

For Pluma Hurlhurst, after that hour, the sunshine never had the samelight, the flowers the same color, her face the same smile, or herheart the same joyousness. 

Never did "good and evil" fight for a human heart as they struggled inthat hour in the heart of the beautiful, willful heiress. All thefire, the passion, and recklessness of her nature were aroused. 

"I will make him love me or I will die!" she cried, vehemently. "Thelove I long for shall be mine. I swear it, cost what it may!"

She was almost terribly beautiful to behold, as that war of passionraged within her. 

She saw a cloud of dust arising in the distance. She knew it was Rexreturning, but no bright flush rose to her cheek as she rememberedwhat Miss Raynor had said of the wild flowers he had so rapturouslycaressed--he had given a few rank wild flowers the depths of apassionate love which he had never shown to her, whom he had asked tobe his wife. 

She watched him as he approached nearer and nearer, so handsome, sograceful, so winning, one of his white hands carelessly resting on thespirited animal's proudly arched, glossy neck, and with the otherraising his hat from his brown curls in true courtly cavalier fashionto her, as he saw her standing there, apparently awaiting him on therose-covered terrace. 

He looked so handsome and lovable Pluma might have forgotten hergrievance had she not at that moment espied, fastened to the lapel ofhis coat, a cluster of golden-hearted daisies. 

That sight froze the light in her dark, passionate eyes and thewelcome that trembled on her scarlet lips. 

He leaped lightly from the saddle, and came quickly forward to meether, 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 onthe 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 avolcano; even your voice seems to have lost its tenderness. What isit, Pluma?"

She raised her dark, proud face to his. There was a strange storywritten 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 youand me. What is it, Pluma?"

She looked up to him with a proud gesture that was infinitelycharming. 

"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 perhapsknow the cause of your strange manner toward me, but I shall alwaysfeel sure it is something which concerns myself. You look at me asthough you were questioning me, " he said. "I wish you would tell mewhat 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 notto notice long ago. Have you not noticed how every one watches us witha peculiar smile on their lips as we come among them; and how theirvoices sink to a whisper lest we should overhear what they say? Whatis 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 hasasked to be his wife. The frosts of Iceland could not be colder thanhis manner toward her. They say, too, that I have given you the truestand 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 younot, Rex? Tell me, " she implored. 

"Good heavens!" cried Rex, almost speechless in consternation; "dothey dare say such things? I never thought my conduct could give riseto one reproach, one unkind thought. "

"Tell me you do care for me, Rex, " she cried. "I have been almost madwith doubt. "

There was something in the lovely face, in the tender, pleading eyes, and quivering, scarlet mouth, that looked as if it were made forkisses--that Rex would have had to have been something more thanmortal man to have resisted her pleading with sighs and tears for hislove, 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 ofunutterable love on her face it fairly bewildered him. The passion inher 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 waswhat she wanted and what she expected him to do. 

"This must be my answer, dear, " he said, holding her in a closeembrace. 

In that brief instant she had torn the daisies from the lapel of hiscoat with her white, jeweled fingers, tossed them to the earth, andstamped her dainty feet upon them, wishing in the depths of her soulshe could crush out all remembrance from his heart of the young girlfor whose memory this handsome lover of hers wore these wild blossomson his breast. 

As Rex looked down into her face he missed them, and quickly unclaspedhis arms from around her with a little cry. 

Stooping down he instantly recovered his crushed treasures and liftedthem 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. "Theconservatories are blooming with rare and odorous flowers, yet youchoose these obnoxious plants; they are no more or less than a speciesof weeds. Never wear them again, Rex--I despise them--throw them away, and I will gather you a rare bouquet of white hyacinths and starryjasmine and golden-rod bells. "

The intense quiver in her voice pained him, and he saw her face worethe 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 arethe sweetest flowers on earth for me. "

He did not fasten them on his coat again, but transferred them to hisbreast-pocket. She bit her scarlet lips in impotent rage. 

In the very moment of her supreme triumph and happiness he hadunclasped his arms from about her to pick up the daisies she hadcrushed with her tiny heel--those daisies which reminded him of thatother 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 beinvited up here to Rex's wedding, " cried little Birdie Lyon, hobblinginto the room where Mrs. Corliss sat, busily engaged in hemming somenew table-linen, and throwing herself down on a low hassock at herfeet, and laying down her crutch beside her--"it is perfectly awful. "

"Why, " said Mrs. Corliss, smoothing the nut-brown curls back from thechild's flushed face, "I should think you would be very pleased. Theywere your neighbors when you were down in Florida, were they not?"

"Yes, " replied the little girl, frowning, "but I don't like them onebit. Bess and Gertie--that's the two eldest ones, make me think ofthose stiff pictures in the gay trailing dresses in the magazines. Eveis 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 supposeyour 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; "shemight hear you. "

"I don't care, " cried Birdie. "I don't like her anyhow, and she knowsit. 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 noticesme, and I _hate_ her--yes, I do. "

Birdie clinched her little hands together venomously, crying out thewords in a shrill scream. 

"Birdie, " cried Mrs. Corliss, "you _must not_ say such hard, cruelthings. I have heard you say, over and over again, you liked Mr. Hurlhurst, and you must remember Pluma is his daughter, and she is tobe your brother's wife. You must learn to speak and think kindly ofher. "

"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 scissorsand 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 timeof it all your after life. What put it into your head Mr. Hurlhurstdid not like his own daughter?"

"Oh, lots of things, " answered Birdie. "When I tell him how prettyevery one says she is, he groans, and says strange things about fatalbeauty, which marred all his young life, and ever so many things Ican't understand, and his face grows so hard and so stern I am almostafraid of him. "

"He is thinking of Pluma's mother, " thought Mrs. Corliss--but she madeno answer. 

"He likes to talk to me, " pursued the child, rolling the empty spoolsto and fro with her crutch, "for he pities me because I am lame. "

"Bless your dear little heart, " said Mrs. Corliss, softly stroking thelittle girl's curls; "it is seldom poor old master takes to any one ashe has to you. "

"Do I look anything like the little child that died?" questionedBirdie. 

A low, gasping cry broke from Mrs. Corliss's lips, and her face grewashen white. She tried to speak, but the words died away in herthroat. 

"He talks to me a great deal about her, " continued Birdie, "and heweeps such bitter tears, and has such strange dreams about her. Why, only last night he dreamed a beautiful, golden-haired young girl cameto 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 myyoung 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 makespoor Mr. Hurlhurst cry so; and what do you think he said?"

The child did not notice the terrible agony on the old housekeeper'sface, 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 gazeonce more upon all that remains of my loved and long-lost bride, sweetEvalia 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 sinof my silence is about to find me out at last. "

"What is the matter, Mrs. Corliss? Are you ill?" cried the startledchild. 

A low, despairing sob answered her, as Mrs. Corliss arose from herseat, took a step or two forward, then fell headlong to the floor in adeep and death-like swoon. 

Almost any other child would have been terrified, and alarmed thehousehold. 

Birdie was not like other children. She saw a pitcher of ice-water onan adjacent table, which she immediately proceeded to sprinkle on thestill, white, wrinkled face; but all her efforts failed to bring thefleeting 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 hercrutch, and limping hurriedly out of the room. 

The door leading to Basil Hurlhurst's apartments stood open--themaster of Whitestone Hall sat in his easy-chair, in morning-gown andslippers, deeply immersed in the columns of his account-books. 

"Oh, Mr. Hurlhurst, " cried Birdie, her little, white, scared facepeering 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 herto!"

Basil Hurlhurst hurriedly arose and followed the now thoroughlyfrightened child quickly to the room where the old housekeeper lay, her hands pressed close to her heart, the look of frozen horrordeepening on her face. 

Quickly summoning the servants, they raised her from the floor. It wassomething more than a mere fainting fit. The poor old lady had fallenface downward on the floor, and upon the sharp point of the scissorsshe had been using, which had entered her body in close proximity toher heart. The wound was certainly a dangerous one. The surgeon, whowas quickly summoned, shook his head dubiously. 

"The wound is of the most serious nature, " he said. "She can notpossibly recover. "

"I regret this sad affair more than I can find words to express, " saidBasil Hurlhurst, gravely. "Mrs. Corliss's whole life almost has beenspent at Whitestone Hall. You tell me, doctor, there is no hope. I canscarcely realize it. "

Every care and attention was shown her; but it was long hours beforeMrs. Corliss showed signs of returning consciousness, and with herfirst breath she begged that Basil Hurlhurst might be sent for atonce. 

He could not understand why she shrunk from him, refusing hisproffered hand. 

"Tell them all to leave the room, " she whispered. "No one must knowwhat 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 thebedside, "what is it? You can speak out without reserve; we are allalone. "

"Is it true that I can not live?" she asked, eagerly scanning hisface. "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. "Donot speak, " he said, gently; "it distresses you. You need perfect restand quiet. "

"I shall never rest again until I make atonement for my sin, " shecried, 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 hearwhat I have to say you will curse me. Oh, how can I tell it! Yet I cannot sleep in my grave with this burden on my soul. "

He certainly thought she was delirious, this poor, patient, toil-wornsoul, speaking so incoherently of sin; she, so tender-hearted--shecould 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 anythingyou would like to have done for you?"

"Yes, " she replied, in a voice so hoarse and changed he could scarcelyrecognize it was her who had spoken; "when I tell you all, promise meyou will not curse me; for I have sinned against you so bitterly thatyou 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 wrungfrom my lips. "

"Surely her ravings were taking a strange freak, " he thought tohimself; "yet he would be patient with her and humor her strangefancy. "

The quiet, gentle expression did not leave his face, and she tookcourage. 

"Master, " she said, clasping her hands nervously together, "would itpain you to speak of the sweet, golden-haired young girl-bride whodied on that terrible stormy night nearly seventeen years ago?"

She saw his care-worn face grow white, and the lines of pain deepenaround 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 saidshudderingly. "The double loss of my sweet young wife and her littlebabe has nearly driven me mad. I am a changed man, the weight of thecross I have had to bear has crushed me. I live on, but my heart isburied in the grave of my sweet, golden-haired Evalia and her littlechild. I repeat, it is a painful subject, still I will listen to whatyou have to say. I believe I owe my life to your careful nursing, whenI was stricken with the brain fever that awful time. "

"It would have been better if I had let you die then, rather than liveto inflict the blow which my words will give you. Oh, master!" sheimplored, "I did not know then what I did was a sin. I feared to tellyou lest the shock might cost you your life. As time wore on, I grewso deadly frightened I dared not undo the mischief my silence hadwrought. Remember, master, when you looked upon me in your bitterest, fiercest moments of agony, what I did was for _your_ sake; to saveyour bleeding heart one more pang. I have been a good and faithfulwoman all my life, faithful to your interests. "

"You have indeed, " he responded, greatly puzzled as to what she couldpossibly 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 eyesupon his noble, care-worn face; "this is the secret I have carried inthis bosom for nearly seventeen years: 'Your golden-haired young wifedied on that terrible stormy night you brought her to WhitestoneHall;' but listen, Basil, '_the child did not!_' It was stolen fromour 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 foreheadlike cords, "you do not know what you say, woman! My littlechild--Evalia's child and mine--not dead, but stolen on the night itsmother 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, wasstolen--not dead--and dared to keep the knowledge from me?" he cried, passionately, beside himself with rage, agony and fear. "Tell mequickly, 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 aman bereft of reason. 

"You will not curse me, " wailed the tremulous voice from the bed; "Ihave your promise. "

"I can not understand how Heaven could let your lips remain silencedall these long, agonizing years, if your story be true. Why, yourselftold me my wife and child had both died on that never-to-be-forgottennight, and were buried in one grave. How could you dare steep yourlips with a lie so foul and black? Heaven could have struck you deadwhile the false words were yet warm on your lips!"

"I dared not tell you, master, " moaned the feeble voice, "lest theshock would kill you; then, after you recovered, I grew afraid of thesecret I had dared to keep, and dared not tell you. "

"And yet you knew that somewhere in this cruel world my little childwas 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 wordsbe true. "

"I feared such anger as this; that is why I dared not tell you, " shewhispered, faintly. "I appeal to your respect for me in the past tohear me, to your promise of forgiveness to shield me, to your love forthe little child to listen calmly while I have strength to speak. "

He saw she was right. His head seemed on fire, and his heart seemedbursting 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 thebed-clothes; "tell me of my child!"

"You remember the terrible storm, master, how the tree moaned, andwithout against the western wing--where your beautiful young wife laydead, 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 toldyou 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'sform gliding stealthily on before, through the dark corridors. A blazeof lightning illumined the hall for one brief instant, and I can swearI saw a woman's face--a white, mocking, gloriously beautifulface--strangely like the face of your first wife, master, Pluma'smother. I knew it could not be her, for she was lying beneath thesea-waves. It was not a good omen, and I felt sorely afraid andgreatly troubled. When I returned to the room from which they hadcarried you--there lay your fair young wife with a smile on herlips--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 unhappyfather. "Have you any idea who could have taken the child? It couldnot have been for gain, or I should have heard of it long ago. I didnot know I had an enemy in the wide world. You say you saw a woman'sface?" 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 somethingabout 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 athing. It was more than he could endure to hear the name of the wifehe had loved, and the wife who slept beneath the wild sea-waves, coupled in one breath--the fair young wife he had idolized, and thedark, sparkling face of the wife who had brought upon him suchwretched folly in his youth!

"Have you not some clew to give me?" he cried out in agony--"some wayby 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 onewho had received an unexpected death-blow. "I am bewildered! MercifulHeaven! which way shall I turn? This accounts for my restlessness allthese years, when I thought of my child--my restless longing andfanciful dreams! I thought her quietly sleeping on Evalia's breast. God only knows what my tender little darling has suffered, or in whatpart 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 assnow from the terrible ordeal through which he had just passed. 

He scarcely dared hope that he should yet find her--where or how heshould find her, if ever. 

In the corridor he passed groups of maidens, but he neither saw norheard them. He was thinking of the child that had been stolen from himin her infancy--the sweet little babe with the large blue eyes andshining rings of golden hair. 

He saw Pluma and Rex greeting some new arrivals out on the flower-borderedterrace, but he did not stop until he had reached his own apartments. 

He did not send for Pluma, to divulge the wonderful discovery he hadmade. There was little sympathy or confidence between the father anddaughter. 

"I can never sleep again until I have some clew to my child!" hecried, frantically wringing his hands. 

Hastily he touched the bell-rope. 

"Mason, " he said to the servant who answered the summons, "pack myvalise at once. I am going to take the first train to Baltimore. Youhave no time to lose. "

He did not hear the man's ejaculation of surprise as his eyes fell onthe face of the master who stood before him with hair white assnow--so utterly changed in one short hour. 

"You couldn't possibly make the next train, sir; it leaves in a fewmoments. "

"I tell you you _must_ make it!" cried Basil Hurlhurst. "Go and do asI bid you at once! Don't stand there staring at me; you are losinggolden 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 tohimself, pacing restlessly up and down the room. "Ah! stay!--there isEvalia's portrait! The little one must look like her mother if she isliving yet!"

He went to his writing-desk and drew from a private drawer a littlepackage tied with a faded ribbon, which he carefully untied withtrembling fingers. 

It was a portrait on ivory of a beautiful, girlish, dimpled face, withshy, 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 findher!"

"Mr. Rex Lyon says, please may he see you a few moments, sir, " saidMason, popping his black head in at the door. 

"No; I do not wish to see any one, and I will not see any one. Haveyou 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 youhear me, Mason? I _will_ be obeyed!"

"Yes, sir, I hear. No one shall disturb you. "

Again Basil Hurlhurst turned to the portrait, paying little attentionto what was transpiring around him. "I shall put it at once in thehands of the cleverest detectives, " he mused; "surely they will beable to find some trace of my lost darling. "

Seventeen years! Ah, what might have happened her in that time? Themaster 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 willmake 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, ratherdiscomfited at the refusal. 

"Yes, sir, " said Mason, dubiously. 

"Miss Pluma, his daughter, wishes me to speak with him on a veryimportant matter. I am surprised that he so persistently refuses tosee me, " said Rex, proudly, wondering if Pluma's father had heard thatgossip--among the guests--that he did not love his daughter. "I do notknow that I have offended the old gentleman in any way, " he toldhimself. "If it comes to that, " he thought, "I can do no more thanconfess the truth to him--the whole truth about poor little Daisy--nomatter what the consequences may be. "

Fate was playing at cross-purposes with handsome Rex, but no subtlewarning came to him. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

The preparations for the wedding went steadily on. It was to be amagnificent affair. Inside and outside of Whitestone Hall fairlyglowed with brilliancy and bloom. 

Rex's deportment toward his promised bride was exemplary; he did hisbest to show her every possible attention and kindness in lieu of thelove 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 gatheringabove 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 ofa queen. Why should she not? On the morrow she would gain the prizeshe coveted most on earth--she would be Rex's wife. 

Her father had gone unexpectedly to Baltimore, and the good oldhousekeeper had been laid to rest, but in the excitement and bustleattending the great coming event these two incidents created littlecomment. 

Mirth and gayety reigned supreme, and the grim old halls resoundedwith laughter and song and gay young voices from morning until night. 

Pluma, the spoiled, petted, willful heiress, was fond of excitementand gay throngs. 

"Our marriage must be an event worthy of remembrance, Rex, " she said, as they walked together through the grounds the morning before thewedding. "We must have something new and novel. I am tired ofbrilliant parlors and gas-light. I propose we shall have a beautifulplatform built, covered with moss and roses, beneath the blossomingtrees, with the birds singing in their boughs, upon which we shall beunited. What do you think of my idea--is it not a pretty one?"

"Your ideas are always poetical and fanciful, " said Rex, glancing downinto the beautiful brilliant face beside him. "My thoughts are so dulland prosy compared with yours, are you not afraid you will have a verymonotonous life-companion?"

"I am going to try my best to win you from that cold reserve. Theremust not be one shadow between us; do you know, Rex, I have beenthinking, if anything should ever happen to take your love from me Ishould surely die. I--I am jealous of your very thoughts. I know Iought not to admit it, but I can not help it. "

Rex flushed nervously; it was really embarrassing to him, the tenderway in which she looked up to him--her black eyelids coyly droopingover her dark, slumbrous eyes, inviting a caress. He was certainlywooed against his will, but there was no help for it; he was forced totake up his part and act it out gracefully. 

"You need not be jealous of my thoughts, Pluma, " he replied, "for theywere all of you. "

"I wonder if they were pleasant thoughts?" she asked, toying with thecrimson flower-bells she holds in her white hands. "I have heard yousigh so much of late. Are you quite happy, Rex?" she inquired, hesitatingly. 

The abruptness of the question staggered him: he recovered hiscomposure instantly, however. 

"How can you ask me such a question, Pluma?" he asked, evasively; "anyman ought to be proud of winning so peerless a treasure as you are. Ishall be envied by scores of disappointed lovers, who have worshipedat your shrine. I am not as demonstrative as some might be undersimilar 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 kindlyimpulse, he bent down and kissed her forehead. 

It was the first time he had caressed her voluntarily; it was not lovewhich prompted the action--only kindness. 

"Perhaps you will love me some day with your whole heart, Rex?" sheasked. 

"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 donot, but as time passes you will give me all your affection. Love mustwin love. "

Other young girls could not have made such an open declaration withoutrosy blushes suffusing their cheeks; they would have been frightenedat their free-spoken words, even though the morrow _was_ theirwedding-day. 

She stood before him in her tall, slim loveliness, as fair a pictureas any man's eyes could rest on. She wore a most becoming dress, and aspring blossom was in her hair. Almost any other man's heart wouldhave warmed toward her as she raised her dark eyes to his and thewhite fingers trembled on his arm. 

Rex was young, impulsive, and mortal; tender words from such lovelylips would have intoxicated any man. Yet from that faithful heart ofhis the words did not take one thought that belonged to Daisy; he didhis utmost to forget that sunny, golden memory. 

To Pluma, handsome, courtly Rex was an enigma. In her own mind sheliked him all the better because he had not fallen down and worshipedher at once. Most men did that. 

For several moments they walked along in utter silence--until they hadreached the brink of the dark pool, which lay quite at the further endof the inclosure. 

Pluma gave a little shuddering scream:

"I did not mean to bring you here, " she cried. "I always avoid thispath; 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 certainlya dangerous locality. "

"It can not be filled up, " she returned, laughingly; "it is said to bebottomless. I do not like to think of it; come away, Rex. "

The magnificent bridal costume, ordered expressly from Paris, hadarrived--perfect even to the last detail. The bride-maids' costumeswere all ready; and to everything in and about the Hall the lastfinishing touches had been given. 

All the young girls hovered constantly around Pluma, in girl-fashionadmiring the costume, the veil, the wreath, and above all theradiantly beautiful girl who was to wear them. Even the Glenn girlsand Grace Alden were forced to admit the willful young heiress wouldmake the most peerless bride they had ever beheld. 

Little Birdie alone held aloof, much to Rex's amusement and Pluma'sintense mortification. 

"Little children often take such strange freaks, " she would say toRex, sweetly. "I really believe your little sister intends never tolike me; I can not win one smile from her. "

"She is not like other children, " he replied, with a strange twinklein his eye. "She forms likes and dislikes to people from simplyhearing their name. Of course I agree with you it is not right to doso, but Birdie has been humored more or less all her life. I think shewill 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 hisown still closer, saying he knew she could not help but succeed. 

The whole country-side was ringing with the coming marriage. No onecould be more popular than handsome Rex Lyon, no one admired more thanthe young heiress of Whitestone Hall. The county papers were inecstasies; they discussed the magnificent preparations at the Hall, the number of bride-maids, the superb wedding-presents, thearrangements for the marriage, and the ball to be given in theevening. 

The minister from Baltimore who was to perform the ceremony wasexpected to arrive that day. That all preparations might be completedfor the coming morrow, Rex had gone down to meet the train, and Plumastrolled into the conservatory, to be alone for a few moments withher 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 loversstrolling under the blossoming trees or reclining on the rusticbenches--it was indeed a happy scene. 

Pluma leaned her dark head against the fragrant roses. The breeze, theperfume of the flowers, all told one story to the impassionedgirl--the story of her triumph and her mad, reckless love. 

She gathered a spray of the fairest flowers, and fastened them in thebodice of her dress. 

"To-morrow I shall have won the one great prize I covet, " shemurmured, half aloud. "After to-morrow I can defy Lester Stanwick tobring one charge against me. I shall be Rex's wife--it will avail himnothing. "

"Speaking of angels, you often hear 'the rustle of their wings. ' Ibelieve there is an old adage of that sort, or something similar, "said a deep voice beside her, and turning around with a low cry shesaw Lester Stanwick himself standing before her. 

For one moment her lips opened as though to utter a piercing cry, buteven the very breath seemed to die upon them, they were so fixed andstill. 

The flowers she held in her hand fell into the fountain against whichshe leaned, but she did not heed them. 

Like one fascinated, her eyes met the gaze of the bold, flashing darkones bent so steadily upon her. 

"You thought you would escape me, " he said. "How foolish and blind youare, my clever plotter. Did you think I did not see through yourclever maneuverings? There shall be a wedding to-morrow, but you shallmarry me, instead of handsome, debonair Rex. You can not fly from yourfate. "

She set her lips firmly together. She had made a valiant struggle. Shewould 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 wasperformed. 

The last hope died out of that proud, passionate heart--as well hopeto divert a tiger from its helpless prey as expect Lester Stanwick torelinquish any plans he had once formed. 

"I have fought my fight, " she said to herself, "and have failed on thevery threshold of victory, still, I know how to bear defeat. What doyou propose to do?" she said, huskily. "If there is any way I can buyyour silence, name your price, keeping back the truth will avail melittle now. I love Rex, and no power on earth shall prevent me frombecoming his wife. "

Lester Stanwick smiled superciliously--drawing from his pocket apackage of letters. 

"Money could not purchase these charming _billets-doux_ from me, " hesaid. "This will be charming reading matter for the Honorable RexLyon, and the general public to discuss. "

She raised her flashing eyes unflinchingly to his face, but no wordissued from her white lips. 

"A splendid morsel for the gossips to whisper over. The very refinedand exclusive heiress of Whitestone Hall connives to remove aninnocent rival from her path, by providing money for her to be sentoff secretly to boarding-school, from which she is to be abducted andconfined in a mad-house. Your numerous letters give full instructions;it would be useless to deny these accusations. I hold proofpositive. "

"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 Irefused to comply with your nefarious wishes, even though you promisedme your hand and fortune if I succeeded, " he answered, mockingly. 

"Will not money purchase your silence?" she said, with a deep-drawnbreath. "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 atlove-making; "I prefer to wrest you from Rex Lyon. I have contemplatedwith intense satisfaction the blow to his pride. It will be a gloriousrevenge, also giving me a charming bride, and last, but not least, thepossession at some future day of Whitestone Hall and the HurlhurstPlantations. A pleasing picture, is it not, my dear?"

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Pluma Hurlhurst never quailed beneath the cold, mocking glance bentupon 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 heroismworthy of a better cause. In that hour and that mood she was capableof anything. 

She leaned against a tall palm-tree, looking at him with a strangeexpression on her face, as she made answer, slowly:

"You may depend upon it, I shall never marry you, Lester Stanwick. IfI do not marry Rex I shall go unmarried to the grave. Ah, no!" shecried desperately; "Heaven will have more mercy, more pity than totake him from me. "

"What mercy or pity did you feel in thrusting poor little Daisy Brooksfrom his path?" asked Stanwick, sarcastically. "Your love has led youthrough dangerous paths. I should call it certainly a most perilouslove. "

She recoiled from him with a low cry, those words again still ringingin her ears, "A perilous love. "

She laughed with a laugh that made even Stanwick's blood run cold--ahorrible laugh. 

"I do not grieve that she is dead, " she said. "You ought to understandby 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 eleventhhour. "

"He will not, " she cried, fiercely, her bosom rising and fallingconvulsively under its covering of filmy lace and the diamond broochwhich clasped it. "You do not know the indomitable will of a desperatewoman, " she gasped. "I will see him myself and confess all to him, ifyou attempt to reveal the contents of those letters. He will marry meand take me abroad at once. If I have Rex's love, what matters it whatthe whole world knows or says?"

She spoke rapidly, vehemently, with flushed face and glowing eyes; andeven in her terrible anger Stanwick could not help but notice howgloriously beautiful she was in her tragic emotion. 

"I have asked you to choose between us, " he said, calmly, "and youhave chosen Rex regardless of all the promises of the past. Theconsequences 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 thethreshold. "Not farewell--I shall not give up hope of winning theheiress 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 Rexand divulge the crime she had planned? Ah! who would believe she, theproud, petted heiress had plotted so cruelly against the life of aninnocent young girl because she found favor in the eyes of the lovershe had sworn to win? Ah! who could believe she had planned to confinethat sweet young life within the walls of a mad-house until deathshould 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 onceimagined the truth; he would never forgive duplicity, " she cried, wildly. 

The proud, beautiful girl, radiant with love and happiness a shorttime since, with a great cry flung herself down among the ferns, thesunlight gleaming on the jewels, the sumptuous morning dress, thecrushed roses, and the white, despairing face. 

Any one who saw Pluma Hurlhurst when she entered the drawing-roomamong her merry-hearted guests, would have said that she had nevershed a tear or known a sigh. Could that be the same creature uponwhose prostrate figure and raining tears the sunshine had so latelyfallen? No one could have told that the brightness, the smiles, andthe gay words were all forced. No one could have guessed that beneaththe brilliant manner there was a torrent of dark, angry passions andan agony of fear. 

It was pitiful to see how her eyes wandered toward the door. Hourafter hour passed, and still Rex had not returned. 

The hum of girlish voices around her almost made her brain reel. GraceAlden and Miss Raynor were singing a duet at the piano. The song theywere singing fell like a death-knell upon her ears; it was "'He ComethNot, ' She Said. "

Eve Glenn, with Birdie upon her lap, sat on an adjoining sofa flirtingdesperately with the two or three devoted beaus; every one wasdiscussing the prospect of the coming morrow. 

Her father had returned from Baltimore some time since. She was toomuch engrossed with her thoughts of Rex to notice the great change inhim--the strange light in his eyes, or the wistful, expectantexpression of his face, as he kissed her more fondly than he had everdone in his life before. 

She gave appropriate answers to her guests grouped around her, buttheir voices seemed afar off. Her heart and her thoughts were withRex. Why had he not returned? What was detaining him? Suppose anythingshould happen--it would kill her now--yet nothing could go wrong onthe eve of her wedding-day. She would not believe it. Stanwick wouldnot dare go to Rex with such a story--he would write it--and allthose things took time. With care and caution and constant watchingshe would prevent Rex from receiving any communications whatever untilafter the ceremony; then she could breathe freely, for the battle sobravely fought would be won. 

"If to-morrow is as bright as to-day, Pluma will have a gloriouswedding-day, " said Bessie Glenn, smiling up into the face of ahandsome young fellow who was fastening a rosebud she had just givenhim in the lapel of his coat with one hand, and with the other tightlyclasping the white fingers that had held the rose. 

He did not notice that Pluma stood in the curtained recesses of anadjoining window as he answered, carelessly enough:

"Of course, I hope it will be a fine, sunshiny day, but theindications of the weather don't look exactly that way, if I am anyjudge. "

"Why, you don't think it is going to rain, do you? Why, it will spoilthe rose-bower she is to be married in and all the beautifuldecoration. Oh, please don't predict anything so awfully horrible; youmake me feel nervous; besides, you know what everybody says aboutweddings on which the rain falls. "

"Would you be afraid to experiment on the idea?" asked the impulsiveyoung fellow, who always acted on the spur of the moment. "Ifto-morrow were a rainy day, and I should say to you, 'Bess, will youmarry me to-day or never?' what would your answer be?"

"I should say, just now, I do not like 'ifs and ands. ' Supposing acase, and standing face to face with it, are two different things. Ilike people who say what they mean, and mean what they say. "

Pluma saw the dazzling light flame into the bashful young lover's eyesas he bent his head lower over the blushing girl who had shown him theright way to capture a hesitating heart. 

"_That_ is love, " sighed Pluma. "Ah, if Rex would only look at me likethat I would think this earth a heaven. " She looked up at the bright, dazzling clouds overhead; then she remembered the words she hadheard--"It looked like rain on the morrow. "

Could those white, fleecy clouds darken on the morrow that was to giveher the only treasure she had ever coveted in her life?

She was not superstitious. Even if it did rain, surely a fewrain-drops could not make or mar the happiness of a lifetime. Shewould 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 thehour of five. "Heavens!" she cried to herself, "Rex has been gone overtwo hours. I feel my heart must be bursting. "

No one noticed Pluma's anxiety. One moment hushed and laughing, thequeen of mirth and revelry, then pale and silent, with shadowed eyes, furtively glancing down the broad, pebbled path that led to theentrance gate. 

Yet, despite her bravery, Pluma's face and lips turned white when sheheard the confusion of her lover's arrival. 

Perhaps Pluma had never suffered more suspense in all her life thanwas crowded into those few moments. 

Had he seen Lester Stanwick? Had he come to denounce her for hertreachery, in his proud, clear voice, and declare the marriage brokenoff?

She dared not step forward to greet him, lest the piercing glance ofhis eyes would cause her to fall fainting at his feet. 

"A guilty conscience needs no accuser. " Most truly the words wereexemplified in her case. Yet not one pang of remorse swept across herproud heart when she thought of the young girl whose life she had soskillfully blighted. 

What was the love of Daisy Brooks, an unsophisticated child of nature, only the overseer's niece, compared to her own mighty, absorbingpassion?

The proud, haughty heiress could not understand how Rex, polished, courteous and refined, could have stooped to such a reckless folly. Hewould 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; adeath-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 hersentence of happiness or despair in the tone of his voice. 

She could not even catch the expression of his face; it was turnedfrom her. She watched him so eagerly she hardly dared draw herbreath. 

Rex walked quickly through the room, stopping to chat with this one orthat one a moment; still, his face was not turned for a single instanttoward the spot where she stood. 

Was he looking for her? She could not tell. Presently he walked towardthe conservatory, and a moment later Eve Glenn came tripping towardher. 

"Oh, here you are!" she cried, flinging her arms about her in regularschool-girl _abandon_, and kissing the cold, proud mouth, that deignedno answering caress. "Rex has been looking for you everywhere, and atlast commissioned me to find you and say he wants to speak to you. Heis out on the terrace. "

How she longed to ask if Rex's face was smiling or stern, but shedared not. 

"Where did you say Rex was, Miss Glenn?"

"I said he was out on the terrace; but don't call me Miss Glenn, forpity's sake--it sounds so freezingly cold. Won't you please call meEve, " cried the impetuous girl--"simply plain Eve? That has a morefriendly sound, you know. "

Another girl less proud than the haughty heiress would have kissedEve's pretty, piquant, upturned, roguish face. 

"What did Rex have to say to her?" she asked herself, in growingdread. 

The last hope seemed withering in her proud, passionate heart. Sherose haughtily, and walked with the dignity of a queen through thelong drawing-room toward the terrace. Her heart almost stopped beatingas she caught sight of Rex leaning so gracefully against the trunk ofan old gnarled oak tree, smoking a cigar. That certainly did not lookas if he meant to greet her with a kiss. 

She went forward hesitatingly--a world of anxiety and suspense on herface--to know her fate. The color surged over her face, then recededfrom it again, as she looked at him with a smile--a smile that wasmore 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 exquisiterobe she wore, and the jewels on her white, nervous hands--"Rex, I amhere!"

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

We must now return to Daisy, whom we left standing in the heart of theforest, the moonlight streaming on her upturned face, upon which thestartled horseman gazed. 

He had not waited for her to reply, but, touching his horse hastilywith his riding-whip, he sped onward with the speed of the wind. 

In that one instant Daisy had recognized the dark, sinister, handsomeface of Lester Stanwick. 

"They have searched the pit and found I was not there. He is searchingfor me; he has tracked me down!" she cried, vehemently, pressing herlittle white hands to her burning head. 

Faster, faster flew the little feet through the long dew-dampgrasses. 

"My troubles seem closing more darkly around me, " she sobbed. "I wishI had never been born, then I could never have spoiled Rex's life. ButI am leaving you, my love, my darling, so you can marry Pluma, theheiress. 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 younghusband who was wearing his life out in grief for her. Ah, if thegentle winds sighing above her, or the solemn, nodding trees had onlytold her, how different her life might have been!

"No one has ever loved me but poor old Uncle John!" She bent her fairyoung head and cried out to Heaven: "Why has no mercy been shown tome? 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, "ifyou could have foreseen the dark, cruel shadows that would have foldedtheir pitiless wings over the head of your child, would you not havetaken me with you down into the depths of the seething waters?" Sheraised up her white hands pleadingly as though she would fain piercewith her wrongs the blue skies, and reach the great White Throne. "Imust be going mad, " she said. "Why did Rex seek me out?" she cried, inanguish. "Why did Heaven let me love him so madly, and my whole lifebe darkened by living apart from him if I am to live? I had no thoughtof suffering and sorrow when I met him that summer morning. Are thesummer days to pass and never bring him? Are the flowers to bloom, thesun to shine, the years to come and go, yet never bring him once tome? I can not bear it--I do not know how to live!"

If she could only see poor old, faithful John Brooks again she wouldkneel 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 shehad suffered, and ask him how she could die and end it all. 

She longed so hungrily for some one to caress her, murmuring tenderwords over her. She could almost hear his voice saying as she toldhim her pitiful story: "Come to my arms, pet, my poor little trampledDaisy! You shall never want for some one to love you while poor oldUncle 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 becomeof her life after that. 

At the station she asked for a ticket for Allendale. No one seemed toknow of such a place. After a prolonged search on the map the agentdiscovered it to be a little inland station not far from Baltimore. 

"We can sell you a ticket for Baltimore, " he said, "and there you canpurchase a ticket for the other road. "

And once again poor little Daisy was whirling rapidly toward the sceneof her first great sorrow. 

Time seemed to slip by her unheeded during all that long, tediousjourney of two nights and a day. 

"Are you going to Baltimore?" asked a gentle-faced lady, who wasstrangely attracted to the beautiful, sorrowful young girl, in whichall hope, life, and sunshine seemed dead. 

"Yes, madame, " she made answer, "I change cars there; I am goingfurther. "

The lady was struck by the peculiar mournful cadence of the youngvoice. 

"I beg your pardon for my seeming rudeness, " she said, looking longand earnestly at the fair young face; "but you remind me so strangelyof a young school-mate of my youth; you are strangely like what shewas then. We both attended Madame Whitney's seminary. Perhaps you haveheard of the institution; it is a very old and justly famous school. "She wondered at the beautiful flush that stole into the girl'sflower-like face--like the soft, faint tinting of a sea-shell. "Shemarried a wealthy planter, " pursued the lady, reflectively; "but shedid not live long to enjoy her happy home. One short year after shemarried Evalia Hurlhurst died. " The lady never forgot the strangeglance that passed over the girl's face, or the wonderful light thatseemed to break over it. "Why, " exclaimed the lady, as if a suddenthought occurred to her, "when you bought your ticket I heard youmention Allendale. That was the home of the Hurlhursts. Is it possibleyou know them? Mr. Hurlhurst is a widower--something of a recluse, andan invalid, I have heard; he has a daughter called Pluma. "

"Yes, madame, " Daisy made answer, "I have met Miss Hurlhurst, but nother father. "

How bitterly this stranger's words seemed to mock her! Did she knowPluma Hurlhurst, the proud, haughty heiress who had stolen her younghusband's love from her?--the dark, sparkling, willful beauty who hadcrossed her innocent young life so strangely--whom she had seenbending over _her_ husband in the pitying moonlight almost caressinghim? She thought she would cry out with the bitterness of the thought. How strange it was! The name, Evalia Hurlhurst, seemed to fall uponher ears like the softest, sweetest music. Perhaps she wished she waslike that young wife, who had died so long ago, resting quietlybeneath the white daisies that bore her name. 

"That is Madame Whitney's, " exclaimed the lady, leaning forward towardthe window excitedly. "Dear me! I can almost imagine I am a young girlagain. Why, what is the matter, my dear? You look as though you wereabout to faint. "

The train whirled swiftly past--the broad, glittering Chesapeake onone side, and the closely shaven lawn of the seminary on the other. Itwas evidently recess. Young girls were flitting here and there underthe trees, as pretty a picture of happy school life as one would wishto see. It seemed to poor hapless Daisy long ages must have passedsince 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, andat the clothes poor John wore, and at his flaming red cottonneckerchief. 

She had not much time for further contemplation. The train steamedinto the Baltimore depot, and she felt herself carried along by thesurging crowd that alighted from the train. 

She did not go into the waiting-room; she had quite forgotten she wasnot 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 forone kindly face or a sympathetic look. 

Some pushed rudely by her, others looked into the beautiful face withan ugly smile. Handsomely got-up dandies, with fine clothes and nobrains, nodded familiarly as Daisy passed them. Some laughed, andothers scoffed and jeered; but not one--dear Heaven! not one among thevast 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. Ahandsomely 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 wasphysical pain to the torture that was eating away her young life? Ill?Why, all the illness in the world put together could not cause theanguish 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 frightenedthe 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 whichthe sunshine seemed to cast such strange shadows. 

On and on Daisy walked, little heeding which way she went. She sawwhat appeared to be a park on ahead, and there she bent her steps. Theshady seats among the cool green grasses under the leafy trees lookedinviting. She opened the gate and entered. A sudden sense of dizzinessstole over her, and her breath seemed to come in quick, convulsivegasps. 

"Perhaps God has heard my prayer, Rex, my love, " she sighed. "I amsick and weary unto death. Oh, Rex--Rex--"

The beautiful eyelids fluttered over the soft, blue eyes, and withthat dearly loved name on her lips, the poor little child-bride sunkdown 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 thegate, and saw her stagger and fall. In a moment she had fluttered downthe path, and was kneeling by Daisy's side. 

"Come here, Harvey, " she called; "it is a young girl; she hasfainted. "

Mr. Harvey Tudor, the celebrated detective, threw away the cigar hehad been smoking, and hastened to his wife's side. 

"Isn't she beautiful?" cried the little lady, in ecstasy. "I wonderwho 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 intothe house. 

"I am going down to the office now, my dear, " he said; "we have someimportant cases to look after this morning. I will take a run up inthe course of an hour or so. If the young girl should recover andwish to see me very particularly, I suppose you will have to send forme. Don't get me away up here unless you find out the case isimperative. "

And with a good-humored nod, the shrewd detective, so quiet anddomesticated at his own fireside, walked quickly down the path to thegate, whistling softly to himself--thinking with a strange, puzzledexpression in his keen blue eyes, of Daisy. Through all of hisbusiness transactions that morning the beautiful, childish face wasstrangely before his mind's eye. 

"Confound it!" he muttered, seizing his hat, "I must hurry home andfind out at once who that pretty little creature is--and what shewants. "

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

The sunny summer days came and went, lengthening themselves into longweeks before Daisy Brooks opened her eyes to consciousness. No clewcould be found as to who the beautiful young stranger was. 

Mr. Tudor had proposed sending her to the hospital--but to thisproposition his wife would not listen. 

"No, indeed, Harvey, " she exclaimed, twisting the soft, golden curlsover her white fingers, "she shall stay here where I can watch overher myself, poor little dear. "

"You amaze me, my dear, " expostulated her husband, mildly. "You cannot 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'tinsinuate there could be anything wrong with this poor child. Mywoman's judgment tells me she is as pure as those lilies in yonderfountain's bed. "

"If you had seen as much of the world as I have, my dear, you wouldtake little stock in the innocence of beautiful women; very homelywomen are rarely dangerous. "

"There is no use in arguing the point, Harvey. I have determined sheshall 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 follyof 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 timeyou had been entertaining an angel unawares. "

"I should be _extremely_ surprised; you have put it mildly, mydear--nay, I may say dumbfounded--to find an angel dwelling down herebelow among us sinners. My experience has led me to believe the bestplace 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 forwomen to know too much of the ways of the world. "

"Harvey, you shock me!" cried the little lady, holding up her hands inhorror 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 shecould be. One thing was certain, she had seen some great trouble whichbid fair to dethrone her reason. 

At times she would clasp his hands, calling him Uncle John, begginghim piteously to tell her how she could die. And she talkedincoherently, too, of a dark, handsome woman's face, that had comebetween her and some lost treasure. 

Then a grave look would come into the detective's face. He had seenmany such cases, and they always ended badly, he said to himself. Shehad such an innocent face, so fair, so childish, he could not make uphis mind whether she was sinned against or had been guilty of a hiddensin herself. 

Love must have something to do with it, he thought, grimly. Wheneverhe saw such a hopeless, despairing look on a young and beautiful facehe always set it down as a love case in his own mind, and in ninecases out of ten he was right. 

"Ah! it is the old, old story, " he muttered. "A pretty, romanticschool-girl, and some handsome, reckless lover, " and something verymuch like an imprecation broke from his lips, thorough man of theworld 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 thejoyous face of Mrs. Tudor, who bent over her with bated breath, gazinginto 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 tospeak. "You must not try to talk or to think; turn your face from thelight, and go quietly to sleep for a bit, then you shall say what youplease. "

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 hersenses struggled into life, her memory came back, her mind and braingrew clear. Then she remembered walking into the cool, shady garden, and the dizziness which seemed to fall over her so suddenly. "I musthave fainted last night, " she thought. She also remembered Plumabending so caressingly over her young husband in the moonlight, andthat the sight had almost driven her mad, and, despite her efforts tosuppress her emotion, she began to sob aloud. 

Mrs. Tudor hurried quickly to the bedside. She saw at once the icefrom the frozen fountain of memory had melted. 

"If you have any great sorrow on your mind, my dear, and wish to seeMr. 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 gohome to Uncle John at once. Have I been here all night?"

"Why, bless your dear little heart, you have been here many a nightand many a week. We thought at one time you would surely die. "

"I wish I had, " moaned Daisy. In the bitterness of her sorely woundedheart she said to herself that Providence had done everything for herwithout taking her life. 

"We thought, " pursued Mrs. Tudor, gently, "that perhaps you desired tosee my husband--he is a detective--upon some matter. You fainted whenyou were just within the gate. "

"Was it your garden?" asked Daisy, surprisedly. "I thought it was apark!"

"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. Tudorthought. "I will wait a bit until she is stronger. " She felt delicateabout even asking her name. "She will seek my confidence soon, " shethought. "I must wait. "

Mrs. Tudor was a kind-hearted little soul. She tried every possiblemeans of diverting Daisy's attention from the absorbing sorrow whichseemed consuming her. 

She read her choice, sparkling paragraphs from the papers, commentingupon them, in a pretty, gossiping way. 

Nothing seemed to interest the pretty little creature, or bring asmile to the quivering, childish lips. 

"Ah! here is something quite racy!" she cried, drawing her chair upcloser to the bedside. "_A scandal in high life. _ This is sure to beentertaining. "

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 allwent merry as a marriage-bell. Suddenly a second wife appeared on thescene, of which no one previously knew the existence. The husband hadsincerely believed himself separated by law from wife number one, butthrough some technicality of the law, the separation was pronouncedillegal, and the beautiful heiress bitterly realized to her cost thatshe 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 findingout beyond a doubt that he was free from his first wife. "

A sudden thought seemed to come to Daisy, so startling it almost tookher 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 belegal? Supposing the poor, deserted wife knew of it, but allowed himto marry that some one else, because she believed he was unhappy withherself, 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 certainlysay, if the first wife knew her husband was about to remarry, and sheknew she was not separated from him by law or death, she was certainlya criminal in allowing the ceremony to proceed. Why, did you ever hearof such a peculiar case, my dear?"

"No, " replied Daisy, flushing crimson. "I was thinking of EnochArden. "

"Why, there is scarcely a feature in Enoch Arden's case resembling theone you have just cited. You must have made a mistake?"

"Yes; you are right. I have made a mistake, " muttered Daisy, growingdeadly 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'slife if she had spoiled it, and leave him free to woo and win thebride 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 firstwife, and she was alive. It is against the law of Heaven for any manto have two wives; and if the first wife remained silent and saw thesacred ceremony profaned by that silence, she broke the law ofHeaven--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 torturedheart for guidance. 

Had she done wrong in letting Rex and the whole world believe herdead? 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 moreshe reflected the more frightened she became. 

Poor, little, artless child-bride, she was completely bewildered. Shecould find no way out of her difficulty until the idea occurred to herthat the best person to help her would be John Brooks; and her wholeheart and soul fastened eagerly on this. 

She could not realize she had lain ill so long. Oh, Heaven, what mighthave happened in the meantime, if Rex should marry Pluma? She wouldnot 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 toJohn Brooks with her pitiful secret, and, kneeling at his feet, tellhim all, and be guided by his judgment. 

"I can never go back to Rex, " she thought, wearily. "I have spoiledhis 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, " saidMrs. Tudor, briskly, noting the thoughtful expression of the fairyoung face. "Such cases as I have just read you are fortunately rare. I should not have read you the scandals. Young girls like to hearabout the marriages best. Ah! here is one that is interesting--a grandwedding which is to take place at Whitestone Hall, in Allendale, to-morrow night. I have read of it before; it will be a magnificentaffair. The husband-to-be, Mr. Rexford Lyon, is very wealthy; and thebride, Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, is quite a society belle--a beauty and anheiress. "

Poor Daisy! although she had long expected it, the announcement seemedlike a death-blow to her loving little heart; in a single instant allher yearning, passionate love for her handsome young husband awokeinto new life. 

She had suddenly awakened to the awful reality that her husband wasabout 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 sheallowed it to go on, she would be guilty of a crime; therefore, shemust prevent it. 

Pluma was her mortal enemy. Yet she must warn her that the flower-coveredpath she was treading led to a precipice. The very thought filled hersoul 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 mustgo at once to Pluma. Heaven give me strength to do it. Rex will neverknow, 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 mustbe stopped at any price. She had not realized it in its true lightbefore. She had had a vague idea that her supposed death would leaveRex free to marry Pluma. That wrong could come of it, in any way, shenever once dreamed. 

The terrible awakening truth had flashed upon her suddenly; she mighthide herself forever from her husband, but it would not lessen thefact; she, and she only, was his lawful wife before God and man. FromHeaven nothing could be hidden. 

Her whole heart seemed to go out to her young husband and cling to himas it had never done before. 

"What a fatal love mine was!" she said to herself; "how fatal, howcruel to me!"

To-morrow night! Oh, Heaven! would she be in time to save him? Thevery thought seemed to arouse all her energy. 

"Why, what are you going to do, my dear?" cried Mrs. Tudor, inconsternation, as Daisy staggered, weak and trembling, from hercouch. 

"I am going away, " she cried. "I have been guilty of a great wrong. Ican not tell you all that I have done, but I must atone for it if itis in my power while yet there is time. Pity me, but do not censureme;" and sobbing as if her heart would break, she knelt at the feet ofthe kind friend Heaven had given her and told her all. 

Mrs. Tudor listened in painful interest and amazement. It was astrange story this young girl told her; it seemed more like a romancethan a page from life's history. 

"You say you must prevent this marriage at Whitestone Hall. " She tookDaisy's clasped hands from her weeping face, and holding them in herown 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 noother 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 shedid not notice the lady did not promise. 

In vain Mrs. Tudor pleaded with her to go back to her husband and beghim to hear her. 

"No, " said Daisy, brokenly. "He said I had spoiled his life, and hewould never forgive me. I have never taken his name, and I nevershall. I will be Daisy Brooks until I die. "

"Daisy Brooks!" The name seemed familiar to Mrs. Tudor, yet she couldnot 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 thebeautiful young stranger, thrown for so many long weeks upon her mercyand 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; shecould not, she must not, be too late!

 * * * * *

At the very moment Daisy had left the detective's house, BasilHurlhurst was closeted with Mr. Tudor in his private office, relatingminutely the disappearance of his infant daughter, as told him by thedying housekeeper, Mrs. Corliss. 

"I will make you a rich man for life, " he cried, vehemently, "if youcan trace my long-lost child, either dead or alive!"

Mr. Tudor shook his head. "I am inclined to think there is littlehope, 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 childwere living, " he continued, with an effort, "you know it would makeconsiderable difference in the distribution of my property. On thenight my lost child was born I made my will, leaving Whitestone Halland the Hurlhurst Plantations to the child just born, and theremainder of my vast estates I bequeathed to my daughter Pluma. Ibelieved my little child buried with its mother, and in all theseyears that followed I never changed that will--it still stands. Mydaughter Pluma is to be married to-morrow night. I have not told herof the startling discovery I have made; for if anything should come ofit, her hopes of a lifetime would be dashed. She believes herself soleheiress to my wealth. I have made up my mind, however, " he continued, eagerly, "to confide in the young man who is to be my futureson-in-law. If nothing ever comes of this affair, Pluma need neverknow 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, evenif they never had a single dollar from me; still, it is best tomention 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 hehad been for the young husband; still he made no comment. He hadlittle time to ruminate upon past affairs. It was his business now toglean from Mr. Hurlhurst all the information possible to assist him inthe difficult search he was about to commence. If he gave him even theslightest clew, he could have had some definite starting point. Thedetective was wholly at sea--it was like looking for a needle in ahay-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 havea fancy the child, if living, must have her mother's face. "

At that opportune moment some one interrupted them. Mr. Tudor had nottime to open the portrait and examine it then, and, placing itsecurely in his private desk, he courteously bade Mr. Hurlhurstgood-afternoon; adding, if he _should_ find a possible clew, he wouldlet him know at once, or, perhaps, take a run up to Whitestone Hall tolook around a bit among the old inhabitants of that locality. 

It was almost time for quitting the office for the night, when thedetective thought of the portrait. He untied the faded blue ribbon, and touched the spring; the case flew open, revealing a face that madehim cry out in amazement:

"Pshaw! people have a strange trick of resembling each other veryoften, " 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 hisbrow and whistled softly to himself--a habit he had when thinkingdeeply. 

He placed the portrait in his breast-pocket, and walked slowly home. Abrilliant 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 withweeping. 

"What is the commotion, my dear?" he asked, hanging his hat and coaton 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 longhas 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. "Youhave given me no time to tell you. I do know where she went. Sit downand 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 earnestpersuasion. 

"Skim lightly over the details, my dear; just give me the mainpoints, " he said. 

Like the good little wife she was, Mrs. Tudor obediently obeyed. 

It was not often the cool, calculating detective allowed himself toget excited, but as she proceeded he jumped up from his seat, andpaced restlessly up and down the room. He was literally astounded. 

"Rex Lyon's wife, " he mused, thoughtfully. "Well, in all the years ofmy experience I have never come across anything like this. She hasgone to Whitestone Hall, you say, to stop the marriage?" hequestioned, eagerly. 

"Yes, " she replied, "the poor child was almost frantic over it. Youseem greatly agitated, Harvey. Have you some new case connected withher?"

"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 sparrowstwittering on the branches of the trees out in the garden. 

He made up his mind not to mention certain suspicions that had lodgedin his mind until he saw his way clearly out of the complicatedaffair. 

He determined it would do no harm to try an experiment, however. Suiting the action to the thought, he drew out the portrait from hispocket. 

"I do not think I shall have as much trouble with this affair as Ianticipated. "

Mrs. Tudor came and leaned over his shoulder. 

"Whose picture have you there, Harvey? Why, I declare, " she cried, inamazement, "if it isn't Daisy Brooks!"

"Mrs. Rex Lyon, you mean, " said the detective, with a sly twinkle inhis eye. "But for once in your life you are at sea--and far fromshore; 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 shereaches Whitestone Hall. "

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

The shade of night was wrapping its dusky mantle over the earth asDaisy, flushed and excited, and trembling in every limb, alighted fromthe train at Allendale. 

Whitestone Hall was quite a distance from the station; she had quite awalk before her. 

Not a breath of air seemed to stir the branches of the trees, and theinky blackness of the sky presaged the coming storm. 

Since dusk the coppery haze seemed to gather itself together; greatpurple masses of clouds piled themselves in the sky; a lurid lightoverspread the heavens, and now and then the dense, oppressive silencewas broken by distant peals of thunder, accompanied by great fiercerain-drops. 

Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, struggling bravely on throughthe storm and the darkness, her heart beating so loudly she wonderedit did not break. 

Poor child! how little she knew she was fast approaching the crisis ofher life!

She remembered, with a little sob, the last time she had traversedthat road--she was seated by John Brooks's side straining her eyestoward the bend in the road, watching eagerly for the first glimpse ofthe magnolia-tree, and the handsome young husband waiting there. 

Coy blushes suffused Daisy's cheeks as she struggled on through thepouring rain. She forgot she was a wretched, unpitied, forsaken littlebride, on a mission of such great importance. She was only a simplechild, after all, losing sight of all the whole world, as her thoughtsdwelt on the handsome young fellow, her husband in name only, whom shesaw waiting for her at the trysting-place, looking so cool, sohandsome and lovable in his white linen suit and blue tie; his whitestraw hat, with the blue-dotted band around it, lying on the greengrass beside him, and the sunshine drifting through the green leaveson his smiling face and brown, curling hair. 

"If Rex had only known I was innocent, he could not have judged me soharshly. Oh, my love--my love!" she cried out. "Heaven must have madeus for each other, but a fate more cruel than death has torn usasunder. Oh, Rex, my love, if you had only been more patient withme!"

She crept carefully along the road through the intense darkness andthe down-pouring rain. She knew every inch of the ground. She couldnot lose her way. She reached the turn in the road which was but a fewfeet distant from the magnolia-tree where first she had met Rex andwhere 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 briefinstant; there was the tree, but, oh! was it only a fancy of herimagination? she thought she saw a man's figure kneeling under it. 

"Who was he, and what was he doing there?" she wondered. She stoodrooted to the spot. "Perhaps he had taken refuge there from the furyof the storm. "

Daisy was a shrinking, timid little creature; she dared not move astep further, although the golden moments that flitted by were asprecious as her life-blood. 

She drew back, faint with fear, among the protecting shadows of thetrees. Another flash of light--the man was surely gathering wildflowers from the rain-drenched grass. 

"Surely the man must be mad, " thought Daisy, with a cold thrill ofhorror. 

Her limbs trembled so from sheer fright they refused to bear herslight weight, and with a shudder of terror she sunk down in the wetgrass, her eyes fixed as one fascinated on the figure under the tree, watching his every movement, as the lurid lightning illumined thescene at brief intervals. 

The great bell from the turret of Whitestone Hall pealed the hour ofseven, and in the lightning's flash she saw the man arise from hisknees; in one hand he held a small bunch of flowers, the other waspressed 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 awayin the direction of Whitestone Hall. 

"Why was Rex there alone on his wedding-night under the magnolia-treein the terrible storm?" she asked herself, in a strange, bewilderedway. "What could it mean?" She had heard the ceremony was to beperformed promptly at half past eight, it was seven already. "Whatcould it mean?"

She had been too much startled and dismayed when she found it was Rexto make herself known. Ah, no, Rex must never know she was so nearhim; it was Pluma she must see. 

"Why had he come to the magnolia-tree?" she asked herself over andover again. A moment later she had reached the self-same spot, and waskneeling beneath the tree, just as Rex had done. She put out herlittle white hand to caress the grass upon which her husband hadknelt, 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 nothingbut the soft carpet of green grass, she remembered. 

One or two beneath her touch were broken from the stem. She knew Rexmust have dropped them, and the poor little soul pressed the flowersto her lips, murmuring passionate, loving words over them. She did notknow the flowers were daisies; yet they seemed so familiar to thetouch. 

She remembered how she had walked home from the rectory with Rex inthe moonlight, and thought to herself how funny it sounded to hear Rexcall her his wife, in that rich melodious voice of his. Septima hadsaid it was such a terrible thing to be married. She had found it justthe reverse, as she glanced up into her pretty young husband's face, as they walked home together; and how well she remembered how Rex hadtaken 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 luridlight, and she saw a little white cross, with white daisies growingaround it, and upon the cross, in that one meteoric flash, she readthe words, "Sacred to the memory of Daisy Brooks. "

She did not faint, or cry out, or utter any word. She realized all inan instant why Rex had been there. Perhaps he felt some remorse forcasting her off so cruelly. If some tender regret for her, whom hesupposed dead, was not stirring in his heart, why was he there, kneeling before the little cross which bore her name, on hiswedding-night?

Could it be that he had ever loved her? She held out her arms towardthe blazing lights that shone in the distance from Whitestone Hall, with a yearning, passionate cry. Surely, hers was the saddest fatethat had ever fallen to the lot of a young girl. 

A great thrill of joy filled her heart, that she was able to preventthe marriage. 

She arose from her knees and made her way swiftly through the stormand the darkness, toward the distant cotton fields. She did not wishto enter the Hall by the main gate; there was a small path, seldomused, that led to the Hall, which she had often taken from JohnBrooks's cottage; that was the one she chose to-night. 

Although the storm raged in all its fury without, the interior ofWhitestone 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'sear, as she walked hurriedly up the path. The damp air that sweptacross her face with the beating rain was odorous with the perfume ofrare exotics. 

The path up which she walked commanded a full view of PlumaHurlhurst'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 softwhite swan's-down and her dainty white satin-slippered feet rested ona crimson velvet hassock. 

"How beautiful she is!" thought the poor little child-wife, wistfullygazing at her fair, false enemy. "I can not wonder Rex is dazzled byher peerless, royal beauty. I was mad to indulge the fatal, foolishdream that he could ever love me, poor, plain little Daisy Brooks. "

Daisy drew her cloak closer about her, and her thick veil moresecurely over her face. As she raised the huge brass knocker her heartbeat pitifully, yet she told herself she must be brave to the bitterend. 

One, two, three minutes passed. Was no one coming to answer thesummons? Yes--some one came at last, a spruce little French maid, whomDaisy 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, " sheanswered, 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 hershoulders, as she scanned the little dark, dripping figure, answeringmockingly:

"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 yourbusiness. "

"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--aswomen weep only once in a lifetime--but the heart of the French maidwas obdurate. 

"Mademoiselle would only be angry, " she said; "it would be as much asmy 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 shepurposely obstructed the passage-way, holding the doorknob in herhand; "all your speech is in vain--she will not see you, I say--I willnot 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 therose-lighted stairway; "what in the world keeps you down there solong? 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 fewminutes. I shall die if you refuse me. My errand is one of almost lifeand death; if you knew how vitally important it was you would notrefuse 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 Iactually 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, MissHurlhurst. If you would not commit a crime, I implore you by all youhold sacred, to hear me--grant me but a few brief moments. "

"Not an instant, " cried Pluma, scornfully; "shut the door, Marie, andsend that person from the house. "

"Oh, what shall I do!" cried Daisy, wringing her hands. "I am drivento the very verge of madness! Heaven pity me--the bitter consequencemust fall upon your own head. "

She turned away with a low, bitter cry, as the maid slammed the heavyoaken 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 theordeal of entering his presence--listening to his voice--knowing Ibring him such a burden of woe--spoiling his life for the secondtime. "

She did not hear the door quietly reopen. 

"I have heard all that has just passed, young lady, " said a kind voiceclose beside her. "I am extremely sorry for you--your case seems apitiful one. I am sorry my daughter refused to see you; perhaps I canbe of some assistance to you. I am Miss Hurlhurst's father. "

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

For a moment Daisy stood irresolute. "Follow me into my study, andtell me your trouble. You say it concerns my daughter. Perhaps I canadvise you. "

Ah, yes! he above all others could help her--he was Pluma's father--hecould stop the fatal marriage. She would not be obliged to face Rex. 

Without another word Daisy turned and followed him. Although Daisy hadlived the greater portion of her life at John Brooks' cottage on theHurlhurst plantation, this was the first time she had ever gazed uponthe face of the recluse master of Whitestone Hall. He had spent thoseyears abroad; and poor Daisy's banishment dated from the time the lawnfête had been given in honor of their return. 

Daisy glanced shyly up through her veil with a strange feeling of aweat the noble face, with the deep lines of suffering around the mouth, as he opened his study door, and, with a stately inclination of thehead, bade her enter. 

"His face is not like Pluma's, " she thought, with a strange flutter ather 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 theutmost patience for her to commence. 

She arose and stood before him, clasping her trembling little whitehands together supplicatingly. He could not see her face, for shestood in the shadow, and the room was dimly lighted; but he knew thatthe sweet, pathetic voice was like the sound of silvery bells chimingsome half-forgotten strain. 

"I have come to tell you this wedding can not--must not--go onto-night!" she cried, excitedly. 

Basil Hurlhurst certainly thought the young girl standing before himmust be mad. 

"I do not understand, " he said, slowly, yet gently. "Why do you, astranger, come to me on my daughter's wedding-night with such words asthese? What reason can you offer why this marriage should notproceed?"

He could not tell whether she had heard his words or not, she stoodbefore him so silent, her little hands working nervously together. Shelooked wistfully into his face, and she drew her slender figure up toits full height, as she replied, in a low, passionate, musical voice:

"Mr. Lyon can not marry your daughter, sir, for he has a livingwife. "

"Mr. Lyon has a wife?" repeated Basil Hurlhurst, literally dumbfoundedwith amazement. "In Heaven's name, explain yourself!" he cried, risinghastily from his chair and facing her. 

The agitation on his face was almost alarming. His grand old face wasas white as his linen. His eyes were full of eager, painful suspenseand excitement. With a violent effort at self-control he restrainedhis emotions, sinking back in his arm-chair like one who had receivedan 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 withemotion; "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 hastilytoward 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'shand. 

"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 couldnot. " She was looking at him, all her heart in her eyes, and, as if hefelt 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 andveil she wore had fallen back from the golden head. 

A sudden mist seemed to come before his eyes, and he caught his breathwith a sharp gasp. 

"What did you say your name was before you were married?" he asked, ina 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, halfaloud, how foolish he was to catch at every straw of hope. 

Carefully he examined the certificate. It was too true. It certainlycertified Rexford Lyon and Daisy Brooks were joined together in thebonds of matrimony nearly a year before. And then he looked at thepaper containing the notice of her tragic death, which Daisy had readand carefully saved. Surely no blame could be attached to Rex, in theface of these proofs. 

He was sorry for the beautiful, haughty heiress, to whom this terriblenews would be a great shock; he was sorry for Rex, he had grown sowarmly attached to him of late, but he felt still more sorry for thefair child-bride, toward whom he felt such a yearning, sympatheticpity. 

The great bell in the tower slowly pealed the hour of eight, with adull, heavy clang, and he suddenly realized what was to be done mustbe done at once. 

"I must send for both Rex and Pluma, " he said, laying his hands on thebeautiful, bowed head; "but, if it will comfort you to be unobservedduring the interview, you shall have your wish. " He motioned her toone of the curtained recesses, and placed her in an easy-chair. He sawshe was trembling violently. 

It was a hard ordeal for him to go through, but there was noalternative. 

He touched the bell with a shaking hand, thrusting the certificate andpaper into his desk. 

"Summon my daughter Pluma to me at once, " he said to the servant whoanswered the summons, "and bid Mr. Lyon come to me here within half anhour. "

He saw the man held a letter in his hand. 

"If you please, sir, " said the man, "as I was coming to answer yourbell I met John Brooks, your overseer, in the hall below. A strangerwas with him, who requested me to give you this without delay. "

Basil Hurlhurst broke open the seal. There were but a few penciledwords, 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 heread 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 theshrinking, timid little figure in the shadowy drapery of thecurtains--even the gay hum of the voices down below, and the strainsof 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 thisnight above all other nights. 

A decanter of wine always sat on the study table. He turned toward itnow with feverish impatience, poured out a full glass with his nervousfingers, and drained it at a single draught. 

A moment later the detective and John Brooks, looking pale andconsiderably excited, were ushered into the study. 

For a single instant the master of Whitestone Hall glanced into thedetective's keen gray eyes for one ray of hope, as he silently graspedhis extended hand. 

"I see we are alone, " said Mr. Tudor, glancing hurriedly around theroom--"we three, I mean, " he added. 

Suddenly Basil Hurlhurst thought of the young girl, quite hidden fromview. 

"No, " he answered, leading the way toward an inner room, separatedfrom the study by a heavy silken curtain; "but in this apartment weshall certainly be free from interruption. Your face reveals nothing, "he continued, in an agitated voice, "but I believe you have brought menews of my child. "

Basil Hurlhurst had no idea the conversation carried on in the smallapartment to which he had conducted them could be overheard from thecurtained recess in which Daisy sat. But he was mistaken; Daisy couldhear every word of it. 

She dared not cry out or walk forth from her place of concealment lestshe should come suddenly face to face with Rex. 

As the light had fallen on John Brooks' honest face, how she hadlonged to spring forward with a glad little cry and throw herself intohis strong, sheltering arms! She wondered childishly why he was therewith Mr. Tudor, the detective, whose voice she had instantlyrecognized. 

"I have two errands here to-night, " said the detective, pleasantly. "Ihope I shall bring good news, in one sense; the other we will discusslater on. "

The master of Whitestone Hall made no comments; still he wondered whythe 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 theground with Basil Hurlhurst--all the incidents connected with the lossof his child. Daisy listened out of sheer wonder. She could not tellwhy. 

"I think we have the right clew, " continued the detective, "but wehave no actual proof to support our supposition; there is one partstill cloudy. "

There were a few low-murmured words spoken to John Brooks. There was amoment of silence, broken by her uncle John's voice. For severalmoments he talked rapidly and earnestly, interrupted now and then byan 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 heldher breath with intense interest. Then she heard the detective tellthem the story of Rex Lyon's marriage with her, and he had come toWhitestone Hall to stop the ceremony about to be performed. 

Basil Hurlhurst scarcely heeded his words. He had risen to his feetwith a great, glad cry, and pushed aside the silken curtains that ledto 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 alow, 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 shallbe 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 thatglittered in its snow-white velvet case. She took it up with acaressing movement. "How foolish I was to work myself up into such afury of excitement, when Rex sent for me to present me with thejewels!" she laughed, softly, laying down the watch, and taking up anexquisite 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 anhour. 

She never could tell what impulse prompted her to clasp the shininggems around her white throat, even before she had removed herdressing-robe. 

She leaned back dreamily in her cushioned chair, watching the effectin the mirror opposite. 

Steadfastly she gazed at the wondrous loveliness of the picture shemade, the dark, lustrous eyes, gleaming with unwonted brilliancy, withtheir 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 wasever to know--"before the hour should wane the fruition of all herhopes would be attained. "

No feeling of remorse stole over her to imbitter the sweets of hertriumphant thoughts. 

She had lived in a world of her own, planning and scheming, wastingher youth, her beauty, and her genius, to accomplish the one greatultimatum--winning Rex Lyon's love. 

She took from her bosom a tiny vial, containing a few white, flakycrystals. "I shall not need this now, " she told herself. "If LesterStanwick had intended to interfere he would have done so ere this; hehas left me to myself, realizing his threats were all in vain; yet Ihave been sore afraid. Rex will never know that I lied and schemed towin his love, or that I planned the removal of Daisy Brooks from hispath so cleverly; he will never know that I have deceived him, or thewretched story of my folly and passionate, perilous love. I could nothave borne the shame and the exposure; there would have been but oneescape"--quite unconsciously she slid the vial into the pocket of hersilken robe--"I have lived a coward's life; I should have died acoward's death. "

"It is time to commence arranging your toilet, mademoiselle, " said themaid, approaching her softly with the white glimmering satin robe, andfleecy veil over her arm. "My fingers are deft, but you have not onemoment to spare. "

Pluma waved her off with an imperious gesture. 

"Not yet, " she said. "I suppose I might as well go down first as lastto see what in the world he wants with me; he should have come to meif he had wished to see me so very particularly;" and the dutifuldaughter, throwing the train of her dress carelessly over her arm, walked swiftly through the brilliantly lighted corridor toward BasilHurlhurst's study. She turned the knob and entered. The room wasapparently 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 ahand was laid upon her shoulder, and a woman's voice whispered closeto 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 inforcing your presence upon me. Did I not have you thrust from thehouse an hour ago, with the full understanding I would not see you, nomatter who you were or whom you wanted. "

"I was not at the door an hour ago, " replied the woman, coolly; "itmust have been some one else. I have been here--to WhitestoneHall--several times before, but you have always eluded me. You shallnot do so to-night. You shall listen to what I have come to say toyou. "

For once in her life the haughty, willful heiress was completely takenaback, and she sunk into the arm-chair so lately occupied by BasilHurlhurst. 

"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 thrusther back into her seat, crossed over, turned the key in the lock, andhastily removed it. Basil Hurlhurst and John Brooks were about to rushto 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 strangeaffair means. I shall request you both to remain perfectly quiet untilby word or signal I advise you to act differently. "

And, breathless with interest, the three, divided only by the silkenhanging curtains, awaited eagerly further developments of the strangescene being enacted before them. 

Pluma's eyes flashed like ebony fires, and unrestrained passion waswritten on every feature of her face, as the woman took her positiondirectly in front of her with folded arms, and dark eyes gleamingquite as strangely as her own. Pluma, through sheer astonishment ather peculiar, deliberate manner, was hushed into strange expectancy. 

For some moments the woman gazed into her face, coolly--deliberately--hereyes fastening themselves on the diamond necklace which clasped herthroat, quivering with a thousand gleaming lights. 

"You are well cared for, " she said, with a harsh, grating laugh, thatvibrated strangely on the girl's ear. "You have the good things oflife, while I have only the hardships. I am a fool to endure it. Ihave 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 forassistance. I have heard of insolence of beggars, but certainly thisis beyond all imagination. How dare you force your obnoxious presenceupon me? I will not listen to another word; you shall suffer for thisoutrage, 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 laughagain, as she answered, authoritatively:

"I shall not play at cross-purposes with you any longer; it is plainlyevident there is little affection lost between us. You will do exactlyas I say, Pluma; you may spare yourself a great deal that may beunpleasant--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 alook from this woman's eyes, who used her name with such ill-bredfamiliarity, actually frightened her. 

"Be sensible and listen to what I intend you shall hear, and, as Isaid and repeat, obey. You have made a slight mistake in defying me, young lady. I hoped and intended to be your friend and adviser; butsince 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 acthereafter under my instructions; it has spoiled you allowing you tohold 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, moreimperiously than before. 

"Hush! not another word; you will not tell any one a syllable of whathas passed in this room. "

"Do you dare threaten me in my own house, " cried Pluma, fairly besideherself with passion. "I begin to believe you are not aware to whomyou are speaking. You shall not force me to listen. I shall raise thewindow and cry out to the guests below. "

"Very well, then. I find I am compelled to tell you something I neverintended you should know--something that, unless I am greatly mistakenin my estimate of you, will change your high and mighty notionsaltogether. "

The woman was bending so near her, her breath almost scorched hercheek. 

"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 thediamonds, representing a fortune, gleaming on your throat, while I amlacking the necessaries of life. "

"What is that to me?" cried Pluma, scornfully. "Allow me to pass fromthe room, and I will send my maid back to you with a twenty-dollarnote. My moments are precious; do not detain me. "

The woman laughed contemptuously. 

"Twenty dollars, indeed!" she sneered, mockingly. "Twenty thousandwill not answer my purpose. From this time forth I intend to live asbefits a lady. I want that necklace you are wearing, as security thatyou will produce the required sum for me before to-morrow night. "

The coarse proposal amazed Pluma. 

"I thought Whitestone Hall especially guarded against thieves, " shesaid, steadily. "You seem to be a desperate woman; but I, PlumaHurlhurst, do not fear you. We will pass over the remarks you havejust 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 herhold upon the white arm upon which the jewels flashed and quivered. "If Basil Hurlhurst knew what I know you would be driven from thishouse before an hour had passed. "

"I--I--do not know what you mean, " gasped Pluma, her great courage andfortitude sinking before this woman's fearlessness and defiantauthority. 

"No, you don't know what I mean; and little you thank me for carryingthe treacherous secret since almost the hour of your birth. It is timefor you to know the truth at last. You are not the heiress ofWhitestone Hall--you are not Basil Hurlhurst's child!"

Pluma's face grew deathly white; a strange mist seemed gatheringbefore her. 

"I can not--seem--to--grasp--what you mean, or who you are to terrifyme so. "

A mocking smile played about the woman's lips as she replied, in aslow, even, distinct voice:

"I am your mother, Pluma!"

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

At the self-same moment that the scene just described was beingenacted 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 thecorridor and adjourn to the parlors below, where the guests and theminister awaited them. 

He walked toward the window and drew aside the heavy curtains. Thestorm was beating against the window-pane as he leaned his feverishface against the cool glass, gazing out into the impenetrable darknesswithout. 

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 wifewhom he was about to wed?

He might honor and cherish her, but love her he could not, no matterfor all the promises he might make. The power of loving was directedfrom Heaven above--it was not for mortals to accept or reject atwill. 

His heart seemed to cling with a strange restlessness to Daisy, thefair little child-bride, whom he had loved so passionately--his firstand only love, sweet little Daisy!

From the breast-pocket of his coat he took the cluster of daisies hehad gone through the storm on his wedding-night to gather. He waswaiting until the monument should arrive before he could gathercourage to tell Pluma the sorrowful story of his love-dream. 

All at once he remembered the letter a stranger had handed him outsideof the entrance gate. He had not thought much about the matter untilnow. Mechanically he picked it up from the mantel, where he had tossedit 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 chirographybut too well. 

"From Stanwick!" he cried, leaning heavily against the mantel. 

Rex read the letter through with a burning flush on his face, whichgrew white as with the pallor of death as he read; a dark mist wasbefore his eyes, the sound of surging waters in his ears. 

"OLD COLLEGE CHUM, "--it began, --"For the sake of those happy hours ofour school-days, you will please favor me by reading what I havewritten to the end. 

"If you love Pluma Hurlhurst better than your sense of honor thisletter is of no avail. I can not see you drifting on to ruin withoutlonging to save you. You have been cleverly caught in the net thescheming heiress has set for you. It is certainly evident she lovesyou with a love which is certainly a perilous one. There is not muchsafety 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 littleDaisy Brooks. 

"You remember the night you saw little Daisy home, burning withindignation at the cut direct--which Pluma had subjected the prettylittle fairy to? I simply recall that fact, as upon that event hangsthe terrible sequel which I free my conscience by unfolding. You hadscarcely left the Hall ere Pluma called me to her side. 

"'Do not leave me, Lester, ' she said; 'I want to see you; remain untilafter 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 whenshe found you preferred little golden-haired Daisy Brooks to her ownpeerless self. 'What shall I do, Lester, ' she cried, 'to strike hisheart? What shall I do to humble his mighty pride as he has humbledmine?' Heaven knows, old boy, I am ashamed to admit the shamefultruth. I rather enjoyed the situation of affairs. 'My love is turnedto hate!' she cried, vehemently. 'I must strike him through his lovefor that little pink-and-white baby-faced creature he is so madlyinfatuated with. Remove her from his path, Lester, ' she cried, 'and Ishall make it worth your while. You asked me once if I would marryyou. I answer _now_: remove that girl from his path, by fair means orfoul, and I give you my hand as the reward, I, the heiress ofWhitestone Hall. '

"She knew the temptation was dazzling. For long hours we talked thematter over. She was to furnish money to send the girl to school, fromwhich I was shortly to abduct her. She little cared what happened thelittle fair-haired creature. Before I had time to carry out the designfate drifted her into my hands. I rescued her, at the risk of my ownlife, from a watery grave. I gave out she was my wife, that the affairmight reach your ears, and you would believe the child willfullyeloped with me. I swear to you no impure thought ever crossed thatchild's brain. I gave her a very satisfactory explanation as to why Ihad started so false a report. In her innocence--it seemedplausible--she did not contradict my words. 

"Then you came upon the scene, charging her with the report anddemanding to know the truth. 

"At that moment she saw the affair in its true light. Heaven knows shewas as pure as a spotless lily; but appearances were sadly against thechild, simply because she had not contradicted the report that I hadcirculated--that she was my wife. Her lips were dumb at the meresuspicion you hurled against her, and she could not plead with you forvery horror and amazement. 

"When you left her she was stricken with a fever that was said to havecost her her life. She disappeared from sight, and it was said she hadthrown herself into the pit. 

"I give you this last and final statement in all truth. I was hauntedday and night by her sad, pitiful face; it almost drove me mad withremorse, and to ease my mind I had the shaft searched a week ago, andlearned the startling fact--it revealed no trace of her ever havingbeen there. 

"The shaft does not contain the remains of Daisy Brooks, and Isolemnly affirm (although I have no clew to substantiate the belief)that Daisy Brooks is not dead, but living, and Pluma Hurlhurst's soulis not dyed with the blood which she would not have hesitated to shedto remove an innocent rival from her path. I do not hold myselfguiltless, still the planner of a crime is far more guilty than thetool who does the work in hope of reward. 

"The heiress of Whitestone Hall has played me false, take to yourheart your fair, blushing bride, but remember hers is a perilouslove. "

 * * * * *

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 itnot 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 along, quivering sigh, at the bare possibility. "Little Daisy was aspure 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 didnot 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, andthe absolute proofs of its sincerity. He could not curse her for herhorrible deceit, because his mother had loved her so, and it was donethrough her blinding, passionate love for him; and he buried his facein his hands, and wept bitterly. It was all clear as noonday to himnow why Daisy had not kept the tryst under the magnolia-tree, and thecottage was empty. She must certainly have attempted to make herescape from the school in which they placed her to come back to hisarms. 

"Oh, dupe that I have been!" he moaned. "Oh, my sweet little innocentdarling!" he cried. "I dare not hope Heaven has spared you to me!"

Now he understood why he had felt such a terrible aversion to Plumaall along. She had separated him from his beautiful, golden-hairedchild-bride. 

His eyes rested on the certificate which bore Pluma's name, also hisown. He tore it into a thousand shreds. 

"It is all over between us now, " he cried. "Even if Daisy were dead, Icould never take the viper to my bosom that has dealt me such adeath-stinging blow. If living, I shall search the world over till Ifind her; if dead, I shall consecrate my life to the memory of mydarling, my pure, little, injured _only_ love. "

He heard a low rap at the door. The servant never forgot the youngman's haggard, hopeless face as he delivered Basil Hurlhurst'smessage. 

"Ah, it is better so, " cried Rex to himself, vehemently, as the mansilently 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 willtell him all. "

Hastily catching up the letter, Rex walked, with a firm, quick tread, toward the study, in which the strangest tragedy which was everenacted was about to transpire. 

 * * * * *

"I am your mother, Pluma, " repeated the woman, slowly. "Look into myface, and you will see every lineament of your own mirrored there. Butfor 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 yourheart that tells you you are standing in your mother's presence?"

"Every instinct in my heart tells me you are a vile impostor, woman. Iwonder that you dare intimate such a thing. You are certainly anescaped lunatic. My mother was lost at sea long years ago. "

"So every one believed. But my very presence here is proof positivesuch was not the case. "

Pluma tried to speak, but no sound issued from her white lips. Thevery tone of the woman's voice carried positive conviction with it. Adim realization was stealing over her that this woman's face, and thepeculiar tone of her voice, were strangely mixed up with her childhooddreams; and, try as she would to scoff at the idea, it seemed to begaining strength with every moment. 

"You do not believe me, I see, " pursued the woman, calmly. "There isnothing but the stern facts that will satisfy you. You shall havethem. They are soon told: Years ago, when I was young and fair as youare now, I lived at the home of a quiet, well-to-do spinster, TaizaBurt. She had a nephew, an honest, well-to-do young fellow, whoworshiped me, much to the chagrin of his aunt; and out of pique oneday I married him. I did not love the honest-hearted fellow, and Ilived 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 wonhad it not been for the chains which bound me. He was a handsome, debonair college fellow, as rich as he was handsome. This was BasilHurlhurst, the planter's only son and heir. Our meeting was romantic. I had driven over to the village in which the college was situated, onan errand for Taiza. Basil met me driving through the park. He wasyoung, reckless and impulsive. He loved me, and the knowledge of hiswealth dazzled me. I did not tell him I was a wife, and therecommenced my first sin. My extreme youth and ignorance of the worldmust plead for me--my husband or the world would never know of it. Ilistened to his pleading, and married him--that is, we went throughthe ceremony. He had perfect faith in its sincerity. I alone knew theguilty truth. Yet enormous as was my crime, I had but a dimrealization of it. 

"For one brief week I was dazzled with the wealth and jewels helavished upon me; but my conscience would not let me rest when Ithought of my honest-hearted husband, from whom I had fled and whom Ihad so cruelly deceived. 

"My love for Basil was short lived; I was too reckless to care muchfor any one. My conscience bade me fly from him. I gathered up whatmoney 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 shadowof a doubt, you were my lawful husband's child, not Basil's. 

"Soon after this event a daring thought came to me. I could presentyou, ere long, with myself, at Whitestone Hall. Basil Hurlhurst wouldnever know the deception practiced upon him; and you, the child ofhumble parentage, should enjoy and inherit his vast wealth. My boldplan was successful. We had a stormy interview, and it never occurredto him there could be the least deception--that I was not his lawfulwife, or you his child. 

"I found Basil had learned to despise even more fiercely than he hadever loved me. 

"He took us abroad, refusing to speak or look upon my face, eventhough he escorted us. In a fit of desperation I threw myself into thesea, but I was rescued by another vessel. A strong inclination seizedme to again visit Whitestone Hall and see what disposition he had madeof 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 wayto 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 sawa 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 thehouse was lighted, and learned the truth. Basil Hurlhurst hadremarried; he had been abroad with his wife, and to-night he wasbringing home his young wife. 

"My rage knew no bounds. I commanded you to bring me the key of thegate. You obeyed. That night a little golden-haired child was born atWhitestone Hall, and I knew it would live to divide the honors andwealth 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, orto hear you had betrayed me, a stranger, wanting the key of thegate. "

"My surprise knew no bounds when I found it was given out the childhad died, and was buried with its young mother. I never understood whyBasil Hurlhurst did not attempt to recover his child. 

"I took the child far from here, placing it in a basket on the riverbrink, with a note pinned to it saying that I, the mother, had sinnedand 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'sform approaching in the distance. 

"I fairly caught my breath as he drew near. I saw it was my ownhusband, 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 inthat 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 littleone remained until the spinster died. 

"Again, a few years later, I determined to visit Whitestone Hall, whena startling and unexpected surprise presented itself. Since then Ihave believed in fate. All unconscious of the strange manner in whichthese two men's lives had crossed each other, I found Basil Hurlhursthad engaged my own husband, and your father, John Brooks, for hisoverseer. "

Pluma gave a terrible cry, but the woman did not heed her. 

"I dared not betray my identity then, but fled quickly from WhitestoneHall; for I knew, if all came to light, it would be proved without adoubt you were not the heiress of Whitestone Hall. 

"I saw a young girl, blue-eyed and golden-haired, singing like a larkin the fields. One glance at her face, and I knew she was BasilHurlhurst's stolen child fate had brought directly to her father'shome. I questioned her, and she answered she had lived with TaizaBurt, but her name was Daisy Brooks. "

"It is a lie--a base, ingenious lie!" shrieked Pluma. "Daisy Brooksthe heiress of Whitestone Hall! Even if it were true, " she cried, exultingly, "she will never reign here, the mistress of WhitestoneHall. She is dead. "

"Not exactly!" cried a ringing voice from the rear; and before the twowomen could comprehend the situation, the detective sprung through thesilken curtains, placing his back firmly against the door. "You havelaid a deep scheme, with a cruel vengeance; but your own weapons areturned against you. Bring your daughter forward, Mr. Hurlhurst. Yourpresence is also needed, Mr. Brooks, " he called. 

CHAPTER XL. 

Not a muscle of Pluma Hurlhurst's face quivered, but the woman uttereda 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 theroom, clasping his long-lost daughter to his breast. Daisy's arms wereclinging round his neck, and her golden head rested on his shoulder. She was sobbing hysterically, John Brooks, deeply affected, followingafter. 

Like a stag at bay, the woman's courage seemed to return to her, asshe stood face to face after all those years with the husband whom shehad so cruelly deceived--and the proud-faced man who stood besidehim--whose life she had blighted with the keenest and most cruel blowof all. 

Basil Hurlhurst was the first to break the ominous silence. 

"It is unnecessary to tell you we have heard all, " he said, slowly. "Ishall not seek redress for your double crime. Leave this locality atonce, or I may repent the leniency of my decision. I hold youguiltless, Pluma, " he added, gently. "You are not my child, yet I havenot been wanting in kindness toward you. I shall make every provisionfor your future comfort with your father, " he said, indicating JohnBrooks, 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 hisveins. 

"Your child!" she shrieked, mockingly; "do not dare call me thatagain. What care I for your cotton fields, or for Whitestone Hall?"she cried, proudly, drawing herself up to her full height. "You havealways hated me, Basil Hurlhurst, " she cried, turning haughtily towardhim. "This is your triumph! Within the next hour I shall be Rex Lyon'swife. "

She repeated the words with a clear, ringing laugh, her flaming eyesfairly scorching poor little Daisy's pale, frightened face. 

"Do you hear me, Daisy Brooks!" she screamed. "You loved Rex Lyon, andI have won him from you. You can queen it over Whitestone Hall, but Ishall not care. I shall be queen of Rex's heart and home! Mine is aglorious revenge!"

She stopped short for want of breath, and Basil Hurlhurst interruptedher. 

"I have to inform you you are quite mistaken there, " he replied, calmly. "Mr. Rexford Lyon will not marry you to-night, for he isalready married to my little daughter Daisy. " He produced thecertificate as he spoke, laying it on the table. "Rex thought herdead, " he continued, simply. "I have sent for him to break thestartling news of Daisy's presence, and I expect him here everymoment. "

"Pluma, " cried Daisy, unclasping her arms from her father's neck, andswiftly crossing over to where her rival stood, beautifully, proudlydefiant, "forgive me for the pain I have caused you unknowingly. I didnot 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 beenyours; stay and be my sister--share my home. "

"My little tender-hearted angel!" cried Basil Hurlhurst, moved totears. 

John Brooks hid his face in his hands. 

For a single instant the eyes of these two girls met--whose lives hadcrossed each other so strangely--Daisy's blue eyes soft, tender andappealing, 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 homethat I have believed to be mine--see the man I love better than lifeitself 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 anheiress! Better had I never known wealth than be cast from luxury intothe slums of poverty, " she wailed out, sharply. "I shall not touch adollar of your money, Basil Hurlhurst. I despise you too much. I havelived with the trappings of wealth around me--the petted child ofluxury--all in vain--all in vain. "

Basil Hurlhurst was struck with the terrible grandeur of the pictureshe made, standing there in her magnificent, scornful pride--a wealthof jewels flashing on her throat and breast and twined in the long, sweeping hair that had become loosened and swept in a dark, shiningmass to her slender waist, her flashing eyes far outshining the jewelsupon which the softened gas-light streamed. Not one gleam of remorsesoftened her stony face in its cruel, wicked beauty. Her jeweled handsuddenly crept to the pocket of her dress where she had placed thevial. 

"Open that door!" she commanded. 

The key fell from her mother's nerveless grasp. The detective quietlypicked it up, placed it in the lock, and opened the door. And just atthat 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; buthe recoiled from her, and she saw Stanwick's letter in his hands; andshe knew in an instant all her treachery was revealed; and withoutanother word--pale as death--but with head proudly erect, she sweptwith 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 thegolden-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 hisarms, 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, steppingforward with tears in his eyes; "Mr. Hurlhurst knows all. "

It never occurred to handsome, impulsive Rex to question what Daisywas 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 willdevote 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 shylylifted her radiantly love-lighted blue eyes to his face with a coyglance 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 roundhis neck--that was all the answer she made him. 

John Brooks had quietly withdrawn from the room; and while BasilHurlhurst with a proudly glowing face went down among the waiting andexpectant guests to unfold to them the marvelous story, and explainwhy the marriage could not take place, the detective brieflyacquainted Rex with the wonderful story. 

"I sought and won you when you were simple little Daisy Brooks, andnow that you are a wealthy heiress in your own right, you must notlove me less. "

Daisy glanced up into her handsome young husband's face as shewhispered, softly:

"Nothing can ever change my love, Rex, unless it is to love you moreand 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 repliedhe was more fortunate than most fellows, being lover and husband allin one. 

The announcement created an intense _furor_ among the flutteringmaidens down in the spacious parlors. Nobody regretted Pluma'sdownfall, although Basil Hurlhurst carefully kept that part of thenarrative back. 

"Oh, it is just like a romance, " cried Eve Glenn, rapturously; "butstill we must not be disappointed, girls; we must have a wedding allthe same. Rex and Daisy must be married over again. "

Every one was on the tiptoe of expectancy to see the beautiful littleheroine 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, asshe hugged and kissed Daisy rapturously; "and just to think you weremarried all the time, and to Rex, too; above all other fellows in theworld, 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 averitable Cinderella. "

"She is the pretty young girl that carried me from the stone wall, andI have loved her so much ever since, even if I couldn't remember hername, " cried Birdie, clapping her hands in the greatest glee. 

In the din of the excitement, Pluma Hurlhurst shook the dust ofWhitestone Hall forever from her feet, muttering maledictions at thehappy occupants. She had taken good care to secure all the valuablesthat she could lay her hands on, which were quite a fortune inthemselves, securing her from want for life. She was never heard frommore. 

 * * * * *

Eve Glenn took Daisy to her own room, and there the wonderfultransformation began. She dressed Daisy in her own white satin dress, and twined deep crimson passion-roses in the golden curls, clappingher hands--at Daisy's wondrous beauty--kissing her, and petting her byturns. 

"There never was such a little fairy of a bride!" she cried, exultantly leading Daisy to the mirror. "True, you haven't anydiamonds, and I haven't any to loan you; but who would miss suchtrifles, gazing at such a bewitching, blushing face and eyes bright asstars? Oh, won't every one envy Rex, though!"

"Please don't, Eve, " cried Daisy. "I'm so happy, and you are trying tomake 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, wholooked as happy as a king, and Basil Hurlhurst, looking fully tenyears younger than was his wont, walking proudly beside his long-lostdaughter. 

The storm had died away, and the moon broke through the dark clouds, lighting the earth with a silvery radiance, as Rex and Daisy tooktheir places before the altar, where the ceremony which made them manand wife was for the second time performed. 

Heaven's light never fell on two such supremely happy mortals as wereRex and his bonny blushing bride. 

Outside of Whitestone Hall a motley throng was gathering with therapidity of lightning--the story had gone from lip to lip--thewonderful story of the long-lost heiress and the double romance. 

Cheer after cheer rent the air, and telegraph wires were busy with thestartling revelations. 

The throng around the Hall pressed forward to catch a glimpse of thepretty 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 werelighted on all the surrounding hills. A telegram was sent to aBaltimore 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 WhitestoneHall, and they seemed to echo the chorus of the people. "God blesssweet 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 wantto read this popular author's writings, and call your special attentionto the following list of her best books. 

THE ALPHABET OF LOVE. --A thrilling romance portraying the strangeadventures of a beautiful young girl. 

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DAISY BROOKS. --The story of a perilous love. 

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HE LOVED, BUT WAS LURED AWAY. --In love and war the _occasion_ iseverything, but when true love enters the heart it conquers. 

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The above books contain 200 to 300 pages each, printed on best gradeantique wove book paper, with beautiful lithograph inlay in 10 colors, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price 50 cents, orany 3 books for $1. 00. Ask your dealer for them, or send your orderdirect 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 wantto read this popular author's writings, and call your special attentionto the following list of her best books. 

LITTLE ROMP EDDA. --A story of the great World's Fair at Chicago, andwhat befell a mischievous maid. 

LYNDALL'S TEMPTATION; Or, Blinded by Love. --A story of fashionablelife at Lenox. To Love and Be Loved is the Grand Dream of Life. --TheHand of Fate. --What Might Have Been. --I Must Forget You, Dear. --TheTragedy. --Who is Guilty? Do You Regret the Past?

A MASTER WORKMAN'S OATH; Or, Coralie the Unfortunate. --A love storyportraying the life, romance and strange fate of a beautiful New Yorkworking girl. Love at First Sight. --A Marriage In Haste. --To Learn toForget Will Be Bitter. --The Abduction. --Fate Marks Her Destiny. --TheRival Lovers. 

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PRETTY FREDA'S LOVERS; Or, Married by Mistake. --A thrilling romance ofa beautiful young school girl. The Spoiled Darling. --Mad Folly. --MyPromised Bride. --Freda's Fate. --The Quarrel. --The Smoke ofScandal. --The Elopement. --Forgotten. --Humbled. --Freda's Test andFlight. --Learned to Love Me at Last. 

WHEN HIS LOVE GREW COLD. --A love story full of trials and struggles oflover and loved one. 

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The above books contain 200 to 300 pages each, printed on best gradeantique wove book paper, with beautiful lithograph inlay in 10 colors, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price 50 cents, orany 3 books for $1. 00. Ask your dealer for them, or send your orderdirect to us. 

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 57 Rose Street, New York. 

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THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN contains 170 solid pages of readingmatter, illustrated, is bound in heavy lithographed paper covers, andwill be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of price, 25cents. Address orders to

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THE MODEL LETTER WRITER. 

A comprehensive and complete guide and assistant for those who wish tobecome perfect correspondents. This book contains Sample Letters ofCompliment, Inquiry, and Congratulation; Letters of Recommendation, Letters of Business, Advice and Excuse, and gives Rules forPunctuation, Postscripts, and Styles of Addressing, etc. 

It also contains love letters, giving the correspondence between ayoung man and a young lady, on love, courtship and marriage, andshould prove indispensable to all young people. 

You cannot afford to be without this book, as you do not know at whattime you may have to write a particularly important letter. If youhave a book of this kind on hand to consult, it may be the means ofbringing to a successful end matters of great moment, and upon whichmay depend your entire future happiness, well-being, and success inlife. 

The book contains 128 pages, is bound in paper covers with handsomeillustration in two colors, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to anyaddress upon receipt of 25 cents in U. S. Stamps or postal money order. Address all orders to

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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 BadBoy, an incarnate but lovable imp of mischief, records his dailyexploits, experiences, pranks and adventures, through all of which youfollow him with an absorbing interest that never flags, stopping onlywhen convulsions of laughter and aching sides force the mirth-sweptbody to take an involuntary respite from a feast of fun, stupendousand overwhelming. 

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THE HOUSEWIFE'S TREASURE!

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saves money, saves labor. Makes cooking pleasurable, easy anddelightful. Without previous experience or instruction, by the aid ofthis magic volume, the busy housewife can quickly learn to makehundreds of savory, appetizing, nourishing dishes, plain or fancy, dainty or substantial. 

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TWO HUNDRED OLD-TIME SONGS. 

This volume contains the _words and music_ of choicest gems ofthe old and familiar songs we used to sing when we were young. It hasbeen arranged with great care and we have no hesitation in saying thatit is the best book of the kind published. Read the followingPartial Table of Contents. The book contains 130 songs besidesthe 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 andmany others, _words and music_, will be sent by mail postpaid uponreceipt 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 youunderstand what your dream portends? If you wish to know what itmeans, you should buy this book, which contains the full and correctinterpretation of all dreams and their lucky numbers. This book isalso 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 willbe sent by mail, postpaid, to any address upon receipt of 25 cents inU. S. Stamps or postal money order. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK