DAISY BROOKS;

Or,

A Perilous Love.

by

LAURA JEAN LIBBEY,

Author of

"Parted on Her Bridal Tour," or "MissMiddleton's Lover," "When His LoveGrew Cold," "He Loved, But WasLured Away," "When Lovely MaidenStoops to Folly," "The Crime ofHallow E'en," "Lovers Once, But

Strangers Now," Etc., Etc.

Copyright 1883, by George Munro.Copyright 1911, by J. S. OgilviePublishing Company. Dramatic RightsReserved by Laura Jean Libbey-Stillwell.

New York: J. S. Ogilvie PublishingCompany, 57 Rose Street.

DAISY BROOKS.

CHAPTER I.

A warm day in the southern part ofWest Virginia was fast drawing to aclose; the heat during the day had beenalmost intolerable under the rays of thepiercing sun, and the night was comingon in sullen sultriness. No breath ofcooling air stirred the leafy branches ofthe trees; the stillness was broken onlyby the chirping of the crickets, and thefire-flies twinkled for a moment, andwere then lost to sight in the longgrasses.

On one of the most prosperousplantations in that section of thecountry there was a great stir of

excitement; the master, Basil Hurlhurst,was momentarily expected home withhis bride. The negroes in their bestattire were scattered in anxious groupshere and there, watching eagerly for thefirst approach of their master's carriageon the white pebbled road.

The curtains of Whitestone Hall werelooped back, and a cheerful flood oflight shone out on the waving cottonfields that stretched out as far as the eyecould reach, like a field of snow. Thelast touches had been given to thepillars of roses that filled everyavailable nook and corner, making thesummer air redolent with their odorousperfumes. Mrs. Corliss, who had

maintained the position ofhousekeeper for a score of years ormore, stood at the window twisting thetelegram she held in her hand with ill-concealed impatience. Theannouncement of this home-cominghad been as unexpected as the news ofhis marriage had been quite a yearbefore.

"Let there be no guests assembled myreasons will be made apparent to youlater on," so read the telegram, whichpuzzled the housekeeper more than shecared to admit to the inquisitive maid,who stood near her, curiously watchingher thoughtful face.

"'Pears to me it will rain afore they gethere, Hagar," she said, nervously, and,as if in confirmation of her words, afew rain-drops splashed against thewindow-pane.

Both stood gazing intently out into thedarkness. The storm had nowcommenced in earnest. The great treesbent to and fro like reeds before thewind; the lightning flashed, and theterrific crash of roaring thundermingled with the torrent of rain thatbeat furiously against the casement. Itseemed as if the very flood-gates ofheaven were flung open wide on thismemorable night of the master's return.

"It is a fearful night. Ah! happy is thebride upon whose home-coming thesunlight falls," muttered Mrs. Corlissunder her breath.

Hagar had caught the low-spokenwords, and in a voice that soundedstrange and weird like a warning, sheanswered:

"Yes, and unhappy is the bride uponwhose home-coming rain-drops fall."

How little they knew, as they stoodthere, of the terrible tragedy thecruelest ever enacted those grim, silentwalls of Whitestone Hall were soon towitness, in fulfillment of the strange

prophecy. Hagar, the maid, had scarcelyceased speaking ere the door was flungviolently open, and a child of some fivesummers rushed into the room, herface livid with passion, and her dark,gleaming eyes shining like baneful stars,before which the two womeninvoluntarily quailed.

"What is this I hear " she cried, withwild energy, glancing fiercely from theone to the other. "Is it true what theytell me my father is bringing home hisbride "

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

"Don't Pluma me!" retorted the child,clutching the deep crimson passion-roses from a vase at her side, andtrampling them ruthlessly beneath herfeet. "Answer me at once, I say has hedared do it "

"P-l-u-m-a!" Mrs. Corliss advancestoward her, but the child turns herdarkly beautiful, willful face toward herwith an imperious gesture.

"Do not come a step nearer," cried thechild, bitterly, "or I shall fling myselffrom the window down on to the rocksbelow. I shall never welcome myfather's wife here; and mark me, bothof you, I hate her!" she cried,

vehemently. "She shall rue the day thatshe was born!"

Mrs. Corliss knew but too well thechild would keep her word. No power,save God, could stay the turbulentcurrent of the ungovernable self-willwhich would drag her on to her doom.No human being could hold insubjection the fierce, untamed will ofthe beautiful, youthful tyrant.

There had been strange rumors of theunhappiness of Basil Hurlhurst'sformer marriage. No one rememberedhaving seen her but once, quite fiveyears before. A beautiful woman with alittle babe had suddenly appeared at

Whitestone Hall, announcing herself asBasil Hurlhurst's wife. There had been afierce, stormy interview, and on thatvery night Basil Hurlhurst took his wifeand child abroad; those who had onceseen the dark, glorious, scornful beautyof the woman's face never forgot it.Two years later the master had returnedalone with the little child, heavilydraped in widower's weeds.

The master of Whitestone Hall wasyoung; those who knew his story werenot surprised that he should marry hecould not go through life alone; stillthey felt a nameless pity for the youngwife who was to be brought to thehome in which dwelt the child of his

former wife.

There would be bitter war to the endbetween them. No one could tell onwhich side the scales of mercy andjustice would be balanced.

At that instant, through the raging ofthe fierce elements, the sound ofcarriage wheels smote upon their earsas the vehicle dashed rapidly up thelong avenue to the porch; while, inanother instant, the young master, halfcarrying the slight, delicate figure thatclung timidly to his arm, hurriedlyentered the spacious parlor. There was ashort consultation with thehousekeeper, and Basil Hurlhurst,

tenderly lifting the slight burden in hisstrong, powerful arms, quickly bore hiswife to the beautiful apartments thathad been prepared for her.

In the excitement of the momentPluma was quite forgotten; for aninstant only she glanced bitterly at thesweet, fair face resting against herfather's shoulder, framed in a mass ofgolden hair. The child clinched hersmall hands until she almost criedaloud with the intense pain, never oncedeigning a glance at her father's face. Inthat one instant the evil seeds of alifetime were sown strong as life andmore bitter than death.

Turning hastily aside she sprunghurriedly down the long corridor, andout into the darkness and the storm,never stopping to gain breath until shehad quite reached the huge ponderousgate that shut in the garden from thedense thicket that skirted the southernportion of the plantation. She laugheda hard, mocking laugh that soundedunnatural from such childish lips, asshe saw a white hand hurriedly loopback the silken curtains of her father'swindow, and saw him bend tenderlyover the golden-haired figure in thearm-chair. Suddenly the sound of herown name fell upon her ear.

"Pluma," whispered a low, cautious

voice; and in the quick flashes oflightning she saw a white, haggardwoman's face pressed close against thegrating, and two white hands weresteadily forcing the rusty lock. Therewas no fear in the fiery, rebellious heartof the dauntless child.

"Go away, you miserable beggar-woman," she cried, "or I shall set thehounds on you at once. Do you hearme, I say "

"Who are you " questioned the woman,in the same low, guarded voice.

The child threw her head back proudly,her voice rising shrilly above the wild

warring of the elements, as sheanswered:

"Know, then, I am Pluma, the heiressof Whitestone Hall."

The child formed a strange picture herdark, wild face, so strangely like themysterious woman's own, standingvividly out against the crimsonlightning flashes, her dark curls blownabout the gypsy-like face, the red lipscurling scornfully, her dark eyesgleaming.

"Pluma," called the woman, softly,"come here."

"How dare you, a beggar-woman, callme!" cried the child, furiously.

"Pluma come here instantly!"

There was a subtle something in thestranger's voice that throbbed throughthe child's pulses like leaping fire astrange, mysterious influence thatbound her, heart and soul, like themesmeric influence a serpent exertsover a fascinated dove. Slowly,hesitatingly, this child, whose fiery willhad never bowed before human power,came timidly forward, step by step,close to the iron gate against which thewoman's face was pressed. Shestretched out her hand, and it rested for

a moment on the child's dark curls.

"Pluma, the gate is locked," she said."Do you know where the keys are "

"No," answered the child.

"They used to hang behind the pantrydoor a great bunch of them. Don't theyhang there now "

"Ye es."

"I thought so," muttered the woman,triumphantly. "Now, listen, Pluma; Iwant you to do exactly as I bid you. Iwant you to go quickly and quietly, andbring me the longest and thinnest one.

You are not to breathe one word ofthis to any living soul. Do youunderstand, Pluma I command you todo it."

"Yes," answered the child, dubiously.

"Stay!" she called, as the child wasabout to turn from her. "Why is thehouse lighted up to-night "

Again the reckless spirit of the childflashed forth.

"My father has brought home hisbride," she said. "Don't you see himbending over her, toward the thirdwindow yonder "

The woman's eyes quickly followed inthe direction indicated.

Was it a curse the woman muttered asshe watched the fair, golden-hairedyoung girl-wife's head resting againstBasil Hurlhurst's breast, his armsclasped lovingly about her

"Go, Pluma!" she commanded, bitterly.

Quickly and cautiously the child spedon her fatal errand through the stormand the darkness. A moment later shehad returned with the key which was tounlock a world of misery to so manylives.

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

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

The next moment she was alone.Stunned and bewildered, she turnedher face slowly toward the house. Thestorm did not abate in its fury; night-birds flapped their wings through thestorm overhead; owls shrieked in thedistance from the swaying tree-tops; yet

the child walked slowly home, knowingno fear. In the house lights weremoving to and fro, while servants, withbated breath and light footfalls, hurriedthrough the long corridors toward herfather's room. No one seemed to noticePluma, in her dripping robe, creepingslowly along by their side toward herown little chamber.

It was quite midnight when her fathersent for her. Pluma suffered him to kissher, giving back no answering caress.

"I have brought some one else to you,my darling," he said. "See, Pluma a newmamma! And see who else a wee,dimpled little sister, with golden hair

like mamma's, and great blue eyes. LittleEvalia is your sister, dear. Pluma mustlove her new mamma and sister forpapa's sake."

The dark frown on the child's facenever relaxed, and, with an impatientgesture, her father ordered her taken atonce from the room.

Suddenly the great bells of WhitestoneHall ceased pealing for the joyous birthof Basil Hurlhurst's daughter, andbitter cries of a strong man in mortalanguish rent the air. No one hadnoticed how or when the sweet,golden-haired young wife had died.With a smile on her lips, she was dead,

with her tiny little darling pressed closeto her pulseless heart.

But sorrow even as pitiful as death butrarely travels singly. Dear Heaven! howcould they tell the broken-hearted man,who wept in such agony beside thewife he had loved so well, of anothermighty sorrow that had fallen uponhim Who was there that could breakthe news to him The tiny, fair-hairedinfant had been stolen from their midst.They would have thanked God if ithad been lying cold in death upon itsmother's bosom.

Slowly throughout the long night thatterrible night that was never to be

forgotten the solemn bells pealed forthfrom the turrets of Whitestone Hall,echoing in their sound: "Unhappy isthe bride the rain falls on." Most trulyhad 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 overher, and breathed a few words in herear that caused her to cry out in horrorand amaze.

"No one will ever know," whisperedHagar; "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 theravages of brain-fever awoke to a lifenot worth the living. Quickly Mrs.Corliss, the housekeeper, was sent for,who soon entered the room, leaningupon 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. "Bothare buried in one grave."

Basil Hurlhurst turned his face to thewall, with a bitter groan.

Heaven forgive them the seeds of thebitterest of tragedies were irrevocablysown.

CHAPTER II.

One bright May morning some sixteenyears later, the golden sunshine was justputting forth its first crimson rays,

lighting up the ivy-grown turrets ofWhitestone Hall, and shining upon alittle white cottage nestling in a bowerof green leaves far to the right of it,where dwelt John Brooks, the overseerof the Hurlhurst plantation.

For sixteen years the grand old househad remained closed the plantationbeing placed in charge of a carefuloverseer. Once again Whitestone Hallwas thrown open to welcome themaster, Basil Hurlhurst, who hadreturned from abroad, bringing withhim his beautiful daughter and a partyof friends.

The interior of the little cottage was

astir with bustling activity.

It was five o'clock; the chimes hadplayed the hour; the laborers weregoing to the fields, and the dairy-maidswere beginning their work.

In the door-way of the cottage stood atall, angular woman, shading herflushed and heated face from the sun'srays with her hand.

"Daisy, Daisy!" she calls, in a harsh,rasping voice, "where are you, yougood-for-nothing lazy girl Come intothe house directly, I say." Her voice diedaway over the white stretches ofwaving cotton, but no Daisy came.

"Here's a pretty go," she cried, turninginto the room where her brother satcalmly finishing his morning meal, "apretty go, indeed! I promised MissPluma those white mulls should besent over to her the first thing in themorning. She will be in a towering rage,and no wonder, and like enough you'lllose your place, John Brooks, and 'twillserve you right, too, for encouragingthat lazy girl in her idleness."

"Don't be too hard on little Daisy,Septima," answered John Brooks,timidly, reaching for his hat. "She willhave the dresses at the Hall in goodtime, I'll warrant."

"Too hard, indeed; that's just like youmen; no feeling for your poor,overworked sister, so long as that girlhas an easy life of it. It was a sorry dayfor me when your aunt Taiza died,leaving this girl to our care."

A deep flush mantled John Brooks'face, but he made no retort, whileSeptima energetically piled the whitefluted laces in the huge basket piled itfull to the brim, until her arm achedwith the weight of it the basket whichwas to play such a fatal part in thetruant Daisy's life the life which forsixteen short years had been somonotonous.

Over the corn-fields half hid by theclover came a young girl tripping lightlyalong. John Brooks paused in the pathas he caught sight of her. "Poor,innocent little Daisy!" he muttered halfunder his breath, as he gazed at herquite unseen.

Transferred to canvas, it would haveimmortalized a painter. No wonder theman's heart softened as he gazed. Hesaw a glitter of golden curls, and thescarlet gleam of a mantle a young girl,tall and slender, with rounded, supplelimbs, and a figure graceful in every lineand curve while her arms, bare to theelbow, would have charmed a sculptor.Cheek and lips were a glowing rosy red

while her eyes, of the deepest anddarkest blue, were the merriest that evergazed up to the summer sunshine.

Suddenly from over the trees therecame the sound of the great bell at theHall. Daisy stood quite still in alarm.

"It is five o'clock!" she cried. "Whatshall I do Aunt Septima will be soangry with me; she promised MissPluma her white dresses should be atthe Hall by five, and it is that already."

Poor little Daisy! no wonder her heartthrobbed painfully and the look of feardeepened in her blue eyes as she spedrapidly up the path that led to the little

cottage where Septima grimly awaitedher with flushed face and flashing eyes.

"So," she said, harshly, "you are come atlast, are you and a pretty fright you havegiven me. You shall answer to MissPluma herself for this. I dare say you willnever attempt to offend her a secondtime."

"Indeed, Aunt Septima, I neverdreamed it was so late," cried consciousDaisy. "I was watching the sun rise overthe cotton-fields, and watching thedewdrops glittering on the corn,thinking of the beautiful heiress ofWhitestone Hall. I am so sorry I forgotabout the dresses."

Hastily catching up the heavy basket,she hurried quickly down the path, likea startled deer, to escape the volley ofwrath the indignant spinster hurledafter her.

It was a beautiful morning; no cloudwas in the smiling heavens; the sunshone brightly, and the great oak andcedar-trees that skirted the roadsideseemed to thrill with the song of birds.Butterflies spread their light wings andcoquetted with the fragrant blossoms,and busy humming-bees buriedthemselves in the heart of the crimsonwild rose. The basket was very heavy,and poor little Daisy's hands ached

with the weight of it.

"If I might but rest for a few momentsonly," she said to herself, eying the cool,shady grass by the roadside. "Surely amoment or two will not matter. Oh,dear, I am so tired!"

She set the basket down on the cool,green grass, flinging herself beside itbeneath the grateful shade of ablossoming magnolia-tree, resting hergolden head against the basket of filmylaces that were to adorn the beautifulheiress of whom she had heard somuch, yet never seen, and of whomevery one felt in such awe.

She looked wistfully at the greatmansion in the distance, thinking howdifferently her own life had been.

The soft, wooing breeze fanned hercheeks, tossing about her golden curlsin wanton sport. It was so pleasant tosit there in the dreamy silence watchingthe white fleecy clouds, the birds, andthe flowers, it was little wonder theswift-winged moments flew heedlesslyby. Slowly the white lids drooped overthe light-blue eyes, the long, goldenlashes lay against the rosy cheeks, theripe lips parted in a smile all unheededwere the fluted laces Daisy slept. Oh,cruel breeze oh, fatal wooing breeze tohave infolded hapless Daisy in your

soft embrace!

Over the hills came the sound ofbaying hounds, followed by a quick,springy step through the cracklingunderbrush, as a young man in close-fitting velvet hunting-suit and jauntyvelvet cap emerged from the thickettoward the main road.

As he parted the magnolia branches thehound sprang quickly forward at someobject beneath the tree, with a low,hoarse growl.

"Down, Towser, down!" cried RexLyon, leaping lightly over someintervening brushwood. "What kind of

game have we here Whew!" heejaculated, surprisedly; "a young girl,pretty as a picture, and, by the eternal,fast asleep, too!"

Still Daisy slept on, utterly unconsciousof the handsome brown eyes that wereregarding her so admiringly.

"I have often heard of fairies, but thisis the first time I have ever caught onenapping under the trees. I wonder whoshe is anyhow Surely she can not besome drudging farmer's daughter witha form and face like that " he mused,suspiciously eying the basket of freshlylaundered laces against which theflushed cheeks and waving golden hair

rested.

Just then his ludicrous position struckhim forcibly.

"Come, Towser," he said, "it wouldnever do for you and me to be caughtstaring at this pretty wood-nymph sorudely, if she should by chance awakenjust now."

Tightening the strap of his game-bagover his shoulder, and readjusting hisvelvet cap jauntily over his brown curls,Rex was about to resume his journey inthe direction of Whitestone Hall, whenthe sound of rapidly approachingcarriage-wheels fell upon his ears.

Realizing his awkward position, Rexknew the wisest course he couldpossibly pursue would be to screenhimself behind the magnolia branchesuntil the vehicle should pass. The nextinstant a pair of prancing ponies,attached to a basket phaeton, in whichsat a young girl, who held them well incheck, dashed rapidly up the road. Rexcould scarcely repress an exclamationof surprise as he saw the occupant washis young hostess, Pluma Hurlhurst ofWhitestone Hall. She drew rein directlyin front of the sleeping girl, and RexLyon never forgot, to his dying day, thediscordant laugh that broke from herred lips a laugh which caused poorDaisy to start from her slumber in wild

alarm, scattering the snowy contents ofthe basket in all directions.

For a single instant their eyes met thesetwo girls, whose lives were to cross eachother so strangely poor Daisy, like afrightened bird, as she guessedintuitively at the identity of the other;Pluma, haughty, derisive, and scornfullymocking.

"You are the person whom MissBrooks sent to Whitestone Hall withmy mull dresses some three hourssince, I presume. May I ask whatdetained you "

Poor Daisy was quite crestfallen; great

tear-drops trembled on her long lashes.How could she answer She had fallenasleep, wooed by the lulling breeze andthe sunshine.

"The basket was so heavy," sheanswered, timidly, "and I I sat down torest a few moments, and "

"Further explanation is quiteunnecessary," retorted Pluma, sharply,gathering up the reins. "See that youhave those things at the Hall within tenminutes; not an instant later."

Touching the prancing ponies with herivory-handled whip, the haughty youngheiress whirled leisurely down the road,

leaving Daisy, with flushed face andtear-dimmed eyes, gazing after her.

"Oh, dear, I wish I had never beenborn," she sobbed, flinging herselfdown on her knees, and burying herface in the long, cool grass. "No oneever speaks a kind word to me but poorold Uncle John, and even he dare notbe kind when Aunt Septima is near. Shemight have taken this heavy basket inher carriage," sighed Daisy, bravelylifting the heavy burden in her delicatearms.

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

In another moment he was by her side.

"Pardon me," he said, deferentiallyraising his cap from his glossy curls,"that basket is too heavy for yourslender arms. Allow me to assist you."

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

"No; I thank you, sir, I have not far tocarry the basket," she replied, in a voicesweet as the chiming of silver bells a

voice that thrilled him, he could not tellwhy.

A sudden desire possessed Rex toknow who she was and from whenceshe came.

"Do you live at the Hall " he asked.

"No," she replied, "I am Daisy Brooks,the overseer's niece."

"Daisy Brooks," said Rex, musingly."What a pretty name! how well it suitsyou!"

He watched the crimson blushes thatdyed her fair young face she never once

raised her dark-blue eyes to his. Themore Rex looked at her the more headmired this coy, bewitching, prettylittle maiden. She made a fair pictureunder the boughs of the magnolia-tree,thick with odorous pink-and-whitetinted blossoms, the sunbeams fallingon her golden hair.

The sunshine or the gentle southernwind brought Rex no warning he wasforging the first links of a dreadfultragedy. He thought only of the shyblushing beauty and coy grace of theyoung girl he never dreamed of thehour when he should look back to thatmoment, wondering at his own blindfolly, with a curse on his lips.

Again from over the trees came thesound of the great bell from the Hall.

"It is eight o'clock," cried Daisy, inalarm. "Miss Pluma will be so angrywith me."

"Angry!" said Rex; "angry with you! Forwhat "

"She is waiting for the mull dresses,"replied Daisy.

It was a strange idea to him that anyone should dare be angry with thispretty gentle Daisy.

"You will at least permit me to carryyour basket as far as the gate," he said,shouldering her burden withoutwaiting for a reply. Daisy had no choicebut to follow him. "There," said Rex,setting the basket down by theplantation gate, which they had reachedall too soon, "you must go, I suppose.It seems hard to leave the brightsunshine to go indoors."

"I I shall soon return," said Daisy, withinnocent frankness.

"Shall you " cried Rex. "Will you returnhome by the same path "

"Yes," she replied, "if Miss Pluma does

not need me."

"Good-bye, Daisy," he said. "I shall seeyou again."

He held out his hand and her littlefingers trembled and fluttered in hisclasp. Daisy looked so happy yet sofrightened, so charming yet so shy, Rexhardly knew how to define the feelingthat stirred in his heart.

He watched the graceful, fairy figure asDaisy tripped away instead of thinkinghe had done a very foolish thing thatbright morning. Rex lighted a cigar andfell to dreaming of sweet little DaisyBrooks, and wondering how he should

pass the time until he should see heragain.

While Daisy almost flew up the broadgravel path to the house, the heavyburden she bore seemed light as afeather no thought that she had beenimprudent ever entered her mind.

There was no one to warn her of theperil which lay in the witching depthsof the handsome stranger's glances.

All her young life she had dreamed ofthe hero who would one day come toher, just such a dream as all youthfulmaidens experience an idol theyenshrine in their innermost heart, and

worship in secret, never dreaming of acold, dark time when the idol may lieshattered in ruins at their feet. Howlittle knew gentle Daisy Brooks of thefatal love which would drag her downto her doom!

CHAPTER III.

In an elegant boudoir, all crimson andgold, some hours later, sat PlumaHurlhurst, reclining negligently on asatin divan, toying idly with a volumewhich lay in her lap. She tossed thebook aside with a yawn, turning hersuperb dark eyes on the little figure

bending over the rich trailing silkswhich were to adorn her own fairbeauty on the coming evening.

"So you think you would like to attendthe lawn fete to-night, Daisy " sheasked, patronizingly.

Daisy glanced up with a startled blush,

"Oh, I should like it so much, MissPluma," she answered, hesitatingly, "if Ionly could!"

"I think I shall gratify you," said Pluma,carelessly. "You have made yourselfvery valuable to me. I like the artisticmanner you have twined these roses in

my hair; the effect is quite picturesque."She glanced satisfiedly at her ownmagnificent reflection in the cheval-glass opposite. Titian alone could havereproduced those rich, marvelouscolors that perfect, queenly beauty. Hewould have painted the picture, and theworld would have raved about itsbeauty. The dark masses of raven-blackhair; the proud, haughty face, with itswarm southern tints; the dusky eyes,lighted with fire and passion, and thered, curved lips. "I wish particularly tolook my very best to-night, Daisy," shesaid; "that is why I wish you to remain.You can arrange those sprays of whiteheath in my hair superbly. Then youshall attend the fete, Daisy. Remember,

you are not expected to take part in it;you must sit in some secluded nookwhere you will be quite unobserved."

Pluma could not help but smile at theardent delight depicted in Daisy's face.

"I am afraid I can not stay," she said,doubtfully, glancing down in dismay atthe pink-and-white muslin she wore."Every one would be sure to laugh atme who saw me. Then I would wish Ihad not stayed."

"Suppose I should give you one towear that white mull, for instance howwould you like it None of the guestswould see you," replied Pluma.

There was a wistful look in Daisy's eyes,as though she would fain believe whatshe heard was really true.

"Would you really " asked Daisy,wonderingly. "You, whom people callso haughty and so proud you wouldreally let me wear one of your dresses Ido not know how to tell you howmuch I am pleased!" she said, eagerly.

Pluma Hurlhurst laughed. Such rapturewas new to her.

The night which drew its mantle overthe smiling earth was a perfect one.Myriads of stars shone like jewels in

the blue sky, and not a cloud obscuredthe face of the clear full moon.Hurlhurst Plantation was ablaze withcolored lamps that threw out softrainbow tints in all directions as far asthe eye could reach. The interior ofWhitestone Hall was simply dazzling inits rich rose bloom, its lights, itsfountains, and rippling music fromadjoining ferneries.

In an elegant apartment of the HallBasil Hurlhurst, the recluse invalid, layupon his couch, trying to shut out themirth and gayety that floated up to himfrom below. As the sound of Pluma'svoice sounded upon his ear he turnedhis face to the wall with a bitter groan.

"She is so like " he muttered, grimly."Ah! the pleasant voices of our youthturn into lashes which scourge us inour old age. 'Like mother, like child.'"

The lawn fete was a grand success; theelite of the whole country round weregathered together to welcome thebeautiful, peerless hostess ofWhitestone Hall. Pluma moved amongher guests like a queen, yet in all thatvast throng her eyes eagerly sought oneface. "Where was Rex " was thequestion which constantly perplexedher. After the first waltz he hadsuddenly disappeared. Only the eveningbefore handsome Rex Lyon had heldher jeweled hand long at parting,

whispering, in his graceful, charmingway, he had something to tell her on themorrow. "Why did he hold himself sostrangely aloof " Pluma asked herself,in bitter wonder. Ah! had she butknown!

While Pluma, the wealthy heiress,awaited his coming so eagerly, RexLyon was standing, quite lost inthought, beside a rippling fountain inone of the most remote parts of thelawn, thinking of Daisy Brooks. Hehad seen a fair face that was all a facethat embodied his dream of loveliness,and without thinking of it found hisfate, and the whole world seemedchanged for him.

Handsome, impulsive Rex Lyon, ownerof several of the most extensive andlucrative orange groves in Florida,would have bartered every dollar of hisworldly possessions for love.

He had hitherto treated all notion oflove in a very off-hand, cavalier fashion.

"Love is fate," he had always said. Heknew Pluma loved him. Last night hehad said to himself: The time had comewhen he might as well marry; it mightas well be Pluma as any one else, seeingshe cared so much for him. Now allthat was changed. "I sincerely hope shewill not attach undue significance to

the words I spoke last evening," hemused.

Rex did not care to return again amongthe throng; it was sweeter far to sit thereby the murmuring fountain dreamingof Daisy Brooks, and wondering whenhe should see her again. A throngwhich did not hold the face of DaisyBrooks had no charm for Rex.

Suddenly a soft step sounded on thegrass; Rex's heart gave a sudden bound;surely it could not be yes, it was DaisyBrooks.

She drew back with a startled cry as hereyes suddenly encountered those of her

hero of the morning. She would havefled precipitately had he not stretchedout his hand quickly to detain her.

"Daisy," cried Rex, "why do you look sofrightened Are you displeased to see me"

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

She looked so pretty, so bewildered, sodazzled by joy, yet so pitifully uncertain,Rex was more desperately in love withher than ever.

"Your eyes speak, telling me you arepleased, Daisy, even if your lips refuse totell me so. Sit down on this rustic

bench, Daisy, while I tell you howanxiously I awaited your coming waiteduntil the shadows of evening fell."

As he talked to her he grew moreinterested with every moment. She hadno keen intellect, no graceful powersof repartee, knew little of books or thegreat world beyond. Daisy was a simple,guileless child of nature.

Rex's vanity was gratified at theunconscious admiration which shonein her eyes and the blushes his wordsbrought to her cheeks.

"There is my favorite waltz, Daisy," hesaid, as the music of the irresistible

"Blue Danube" floated out to them."Will you favor me with a waltz "

"Miss Pluma would be so angry," shemurmured.

"Never mind her anger, Daisy. I willtake all the blame on my shoulders.They are unusually broad, you see."

He led her half reluctant among the gaythrong; gentlemen looked at oneanother in surprise. Who is she theyasked one of the other, gazing uponher in wonder. No one could answer.The sweet-faced little maiden in soft,floating white, with a face like anangel's, who wore no other ornament

than her crown of golden hair, was amystery and a novelty. In all the longyears of her after life Daisy neverforgot that supremely blissful moment.It seemed to her they were floatingaway into another sphere. Rex's armswere around her, his eyes smiling downinto hers; he could feel the slight formtrembling in his embrace, and heclasped her still closer. With youth,music, and beauty there was nothingwanting to complete the charm of love.

Leaning gracefully against anoverarching palm-tree stood a youngman watching the pair with a strangeintentness; 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 face of theyoung girl so closely.

"Ah! why not " he mused. "It would bea glorious revenge." He made his wayhurriedly in the direction of his younghostess, who was, as usual, surroundedby a group of admirers. A deepcrimson spot burned on either cheek,and her eyes glowed like stars, as ofone under intense, suppressedexcitement.

Lester Stanwick made his way to herside just as the last echo of the waltzdied away on the air, inwardly

congratulating himself upon findingRex and Daisy directly beside him.

"Miss Pluma," said Stanwick, with alow bow, "will you kindly present me tothe little fairy on your right I am quitedesperately smitten with her."

Several gentlemen crowded aroundPluma asking the same favor.

With a smile and a bow, what couldRex do but lead Daisy gracefullyforward. Those who witnessed thescene that ensued never forgot it. Foranswer Pluma Hurlhurst turned coldly,haughtily toward them, drawing herselfup proudly to her full height.

"There is evidently some mistake here,"she said, glancing scornfully at theslight, girlish figure leaning upon RexLyon's arm. "I do not recognize thisperson as a guest. If I mistake not, sheis one of the hirelings connected withthe plantation."

If a thunderbolt had suddenlyexploded beneath Rex's feet he couldnot have been more thoroughlyastounded.

Daisy uttered a piteous little cry and,like a tender flower cut down by asudden, rude blast, would have fallen athis feet had he not reached out his arm

to save her.

"Miss Hurlhurst," cried Rex, in a voicehusky with emotion, "I hold myselfresponsible for this young lady'spresence here. I "

"Ah!" interrupts Pluma, ironically; "andmay I ask by what right you force oneso inferior, and certainly obnoxious,among us "

Rex Lyon's handsome face was whitewith rage. "Miss Hurlhurst," he replied,with stately dignity, "I regret, more thanthe mere words express, that myheedlessness has brought upon thislittle creature at my side an insult so

cruel, so unjust, and so bitter, in simplygranting my request for a waltz arequest very reluctantly granted. Aninvited guest among you she may notbe; but I most emphatically defy herinferiority to any lady or gentlemanpresent."

"Rex Mr. Lyon," says Pluma, icily, "youforget yourself."

He smiled contemptuously. "I do notadmit it," he said, hotly. "I have donethat which any gentleman should havedone; defended from insult one of thepurest and sweetest of maidens. I willdo more I will shield her, henceforthand forever, with my very life, if need

be. If I can win her, I shall make DaisyBrooks my wife."

Rex spoke rapidly vehemently. Hischivalrous soul was aroused; he scarcelyheeded the impetuous words that fellfrom his lips. He could not endure thethought that innocent, trusting littleDaisy should suffer through any faultof his.

"Come, Daisy," he said, softly, claspingin his own strong white ones the littlefingers clinging so pitifully to his arm,"we will go away from here at once ourpresence longer is probably obnoxious.Farewell, Miss Hurlhurst."

"Rex," cried Pluma, involuntarily takinga step forward, "you do not, you cannot mean what you say. You will notallow a creature like that to separate usyou have forgotten, Rex. You said youhad something to tell me. You will notpart with me so easily," she cried.

A sudden terror seized her at thethought of losing him. He was herworld. She forgot the guests gatheringabout her forgot she was the wealthy,courted heiress for whose glance orsmiles men sued in vain forgot herhaughty pride, in the one absorbingthought that Rex was going from her.Her wild, fiery, passionate love couldbear no restraint.

"Rex," she cried, suddenly falling onher knees before him, her face whiteand stormy, her white jeweled handsclasped supplicatingly, "you must not,you shall not leave me so; no one shallcome between us. Listen I love you,Rex. What if the whole world knows itwhat will it matter, it is the truth. Mylove is my life. You loved me until shecame between us with her false, fairface. But for this you would have askedme to be your wife. Send that miserablelittle hireling away, Rex the gardenerwill take charge of her."

Pluma spoke rapidly, vehemently. Noone could stay the torrent of her bitter

words.

Rex was painfully distressed andannoyed. Fortunately but very few ofthe guests had observed the thrillingtableau enacted so near them.

"Pluma Miss Hurlhurst," he said, "I amsorry you have unfortunately thusexpressed yourself, for your own sake. Ibeg you will say no more. You yourselfhave severed this night the last link offriendship between us. I am frank withyou in thus admitting it. I sympathizewith you, while your words have filledme with the deepest consternation andembarrassment, which it is uselesslonger to prolong."

Drawing Daisy's arm hurriedly withinhis own, Rex Lyon strode quickly downthe graveled path, with the fulldetermination of never again crossingthe threshold of Whitestone Hall, orgazing upon the face of PlumaHurlhurst.

Meanwhile Pluma had arisen from herknees with a gay, mocking laugh,turning suddenly to the startled groupabout her.

"Bravo! bravo! Miss Pluma," criedLester Stanwick, stepping to her side atthat opportune moment. "On the stageyou would have made a grand success.

We are practicing for a comingcharade," explained Stanwick,laughingly; "and, judging from theexpressions depicted on our friend'sfaces, I should say you have drawnlargely upon real life. You will be asuccess, Miss Pluma."

No one dreamed of doubting theassertion. A general laugh followed,and the music struck up again, and thegay mirth of the fete resumed its sway.

Long after the guests had departedPluma sat in her boudoir, her hearttorn with pain, love, and jealousy, herbrain filled with schemes of vengeance.

"I can not take her life!" she cried; "butif I could mar her beauty the pink-and-white beauty of Daisy Brooks, whichhas won Rex from me I would do it. Ishall torture her for this," she cried. "Iwill win him from her though I wadethrough seas of blood. Hear me,Heaven," she cried, "and register myvow!"

Pluma hastily rung the bell.

"Saddle Whirlwind and Tempest atonce!" she said to the servant whoanswered her summons.

"It is after midnight, Miss Pluma. I "

There was a look in her eyes whichwould brook no further words.

An hour later they had reached thecottage wherein slept Daisy Brooks,heedless of the danger that awaited her.

"Wait for me here," said Pluma to thegroom who accompanied her "I will notbe long!"

CHAPTER IV.

"Daisy," said Rex, gently, as he led heraway from the lights and the echoingmusic out into the starlight that shone

with a soft, silvery radiance over hilland vale, "I shall never forgive myselffor being the cause of the cruel insultyou have been forced to endure to-night. I declare it's a shame. I shall tellPluma so to-morrow."

"Oh, no no please don't, Mr. Rex. I Ihad no right to waltz with you,"sobbed Daisy, "when I knew you werePluma's lover."

"Don't say that, Daisy," responded Rex,warmly. "I am glad, after all, everythinghas happened just as it did, otherwise Ishould never have known just howdear a certain little girl had grown tome; besides, I am not Pluma's lover, and

never shall be now."

"You have quarreled with her for mysake," whispered Daisy, regretfully. "Iam so sorry indeed I am."

Daisy little dreamed, as she watched thedeep flush rise to Rex's face, it was ofher he was thinking, and not Pluma, bythe words, "a certain little girl."

Rex saw she did not understand him;he stopped short in the path, gazingdown into those great, dreamy, pleadingeyes that affected him so strangely.

"Daisy," he said, gently, taking her littleclinging hands from his arm, and

clasping them in his own, "you mustnot be startled at what I am going totell you. When I met you under themagnolia boughs, I knew I had met myfate. I said to myself: 'She, and no other,shall be my wife.'"

"Your wife," she cried, looking at himin alarm. "Please don't say so. I don'twant to be your wife."

"Why not, Daisy " he asked, quickly.

"Because you are so far above me,"sobbed Daisy. "You are so rich, and Iam only poor little Daisy Brooks."

Oh, how soft and beautiful were the

eyes swimming in tears and lifted sotimidly to his face! She could not havetouched Rex more deeply. Daisy was hisfirst love, and he loved her from thefirst moment their eyes met, with all thestrength of his boyish, passionatenature; so it is not strange that thethought of possessing her, years soonerthan he should have dared hope, madehis young blood stir with ecstasy eventhough he knew it was wrong.

"Wealth shall be no barrier between us,Daisy," he cried. "What is all the wealthin the world compared to love Do notsay that again. Love outweighseverything. Even though you bid me goaway and forget you, Daisy, I could not

do it. I can not live without you."

"Do you really love me so much in soshort a time " she asked, blushingly.

"My love can not be measured by thelength of time I have known you," heanswered, eagerly. "Why, Daisy, thestrongest and deepest love men haveever felt have come to them suddenly,without warning."

The glamour of love was upon him; hecould see no faults in pretty little artlessDaisy. True, she had not been educatedabroad like Pluma, but that did notmatter; such a lovely rosebud mouthwas made for kisses, not grammar.

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

"Don't refuse me, Daisy," he cried, "giveme the right to protect you foreverfrom the cold world; let us be marriedto-night. We will keep it a secret if yousay so. You must you must, Daisy, for Ican not give you up."

Rex was so eager, so earnest, sothoroughly the impassioned lover! Hishands were clinging to her own, hisdark, handsome face drooped near hers,his pleading eyes searching her verysoul.

Daisy was young, romantic, andimpressible; a thousand thoughtsrushed through her brain; it would beso nice to have a young husband tolove her and care for her like Rex, sohandsome and so kind; then, too, shewould have plenty of dresses, as fine asPluma wore, all lace and puffs; shemight have a carriage and ponies, too;and when she rolled by the littlecottage, Septima, who had always beenso cruel to her, would courtesy to her, asshe did when Pluma, the haughtyyoung heiress, passed.

The peachy bloom on her cheeksdeepened; with Daisy's thoughtless

clinging nature, her craving for love andprotection, her implicit faith in Rex,who had protected her so nobly at thefete it is not to be wondered Rex wonthe day.

Shyly Daisy raised her blue eyes to hisface and he read a shy, sweet consentthat thrilled his very soul.

"You shall never regret this hour, mydarling," he cried, then in the softsilvery twilight he took her to his heartand kissed her rapturously.

His mother's bitter anger, so sure tofollow the cold, haughty mother, whonever forgot or forgave an injury, and

his little sister Birdie's sorrow were atthat moment quite forgotten even ifthey had been remembered they wouldhave weighed as naught compared withhis lovely little Daisy with the goldenhair and eyes of blue looking up at himso trustingly.

Daisy never forgot that walk throughthe sweet pink clover to the little chapelon the banks of the lonely river. Thecrickets chirped in the long green grass,and the breeze swayed the branches ofthe tall leafy trees, rocking the littlebirds in their nests.

A sudden, swift, terrified look crept upinto Daisy's face as they entered the dim

shadowy parlor. Rex took her tremblingchilled hands in his own; if he had not,at that moment, Daisy would have fledfrom the room.

"Only a little courage, Daisy," hewhispered, "then a life of happiness."

Then as if in a dream she stood quitestill by his side, while the fatalceremony went on; in a confusedmurmur she heard the questions andresponses of her lover, and answeredthe questions put to her; then Rexturned to her with a smile and a kiss.

Poor little thoughtless Daisy it wasdone in a moment she had sown the

seeds from which was to spring up aharvest of woe so terrible that herwildest imagination could not havepainted it.

"Are we really married, Rex " shewhispered, as he led her out again intothe starlight; "it seems so much like adream."

He bent his handsome head and kissedhis pretty child-bride. Daisy drew backwith a startled cry his lips were as coldas ice.

"Yes, you are my very own now," hewhispered. "No one shall ever have theright to scold you again; you are mine

now, Daisy, but we must keep it a secretfrom every one for awhile, darling. Youwill do this for my sake, won't you,Daisy " he asked. "I am rich, as far asthe world knows, but it was left to meunder peculiar conditions. I I do notlike to tell you what those conditionswere, Daisy."

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

Daisy blushed so prettily as she spoke.Rex could not refrain from catching herup in his arms and kissing her.

"You shall know, my darling," he cried."The conditions were I should marry

the bride whom my mother selected forme. I was as much startled as you willbe, Daisy, when you hear who it wasPluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall."

"But you can not marry her now, Rex,"whispered the little child-bride, nestlingcloser in his embrace.

"No; nor I would not if I could. I loveyou the best, my pretty wild flower. Iwould not exchange you, sweet, for allthe world. I have only told you this soyou will see why it is necessary to keepour marriage a secret for the present, atleast."

Daisy readily consented.

"You are very wise, Rex," she said. "Iwill do just as you tell me."

By this time they had reached Daisy'shome.

"I will meet you to-morrow at themagnolia-tree, where first I found mylittle wood-nymph, as I shall always callyou. Then we can talk matters overbetter. You will be sure to come whilethe dew sparkles on your prettynamesakes " he asked, eagerly.

Before she had time to answer thecottage door opened and Septimaappeared in the door-way. Rex was

obliged to content himself withsnatching a hasty kiss from the rosylips. The next moment he was alone.

He walked slowly back through thetangled brushwood not to WhitestoneHall, but to an adjoining hostelryfeeling as though he were in a newworld. True, it was hard to be separatedfrom his little child-bride. But Rex hada clever brain; he meant to think ofsome plan out of the present difficulty.His face flushed and paled as hethought of his new position; it seemedto him every one must certainly read inhis face he was a young husband.

Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the

broad gravel path to the little cottage,wondering if it were a dream.

"Well!" said Septima, sharply, "this is apretty time of night to come dancinghome, leaving me all alone with thebaking! If I hadn't my hands full ofdough I'd give your ears a soundboxing! I'll see you're never out afterdark 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 sheknew I was Daisy Brooks no longer,but Mrs. Rex Lyon " she thought,untying the blue ribbons of her hat.

And she laughed outright as shethought how amazed Septima wouldlook; and the laugh sounded like theripple of a mountain brook.

"Now, Aunt Seppy," coaxed Daisy,slipping up behind her and flinging herplump little arms around the iratespinster's neck, "please don't be cross.Indeed I was very particularlydetained."

Stptima shook off the clinging armsangrily.

"You can't coax me into upholding youwith your soft, purring ways. I'm notBrother John, to be hoodwinked so

easily. Detained! A likely story!"

"No," laughed Daisy; "but you are dearold Uncle John's sister, and I could loveyou for that, if for nothing else. But Ireally was detained, though. Where'sUncle John "

"He's gone to the Hall after you, Ireckon. I told him he had better stop athome you were like a bad penny, sureto find your way back."

A sudden terror blanched Daisy's face.

"When did he go, Aunt Seppy " sheasked, 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 " demandedSeptima, sharply.

"I I am going to meet Uncle John.Please don't stop me," she cried, dartingwith the speed of a young gazelle pastthe hand that was stretched out to stayher mad flight. "I I must go!"

CHAPTER V.

"I say you shall not," cried Septima,planting herself firmly before her. "Youshall not leave this house to-night."

"You have no right to keep me here,"panted Daisy. "I am I am " The wordsdied away on her lips. Rex had told hershe must not tell just yet.

"You are a rash little fool," criedSeptima, wrathfully. "You are the baneof my life, and have been ever sincethat stormy winter night John broughtyou here. I told him then to wash hishands of the whole matter; you wouldgrow up a willful, impetuous minx, andturn out at last like your mother."

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

"Speak of me as lightly as you will,Aunt Septima," she cried, "but youmust spare my poor mother's name!Oh, mother, mother!" she cried,flinging herself down on her knees,and sobbing piteously, "if you had onlytaken me with you, down into the darkcruel waters!"

"I only wish to Heaven she had!"fervently ejaculated Septima.

At that moment a quick, hurried stepsounded on the gravel path without,

and John Brooks hastily entered theroom.

"Ah! thank God! here you are, Daisy. Iwas over at the Hall for you, and theytold me you had left some hoursbefore. I knew you had not been home,and I was sorely afraid something hadhappened you."

Ah! how little he knew! Something hadhappened to her, the darkest andcruelest shadow that had ever darkeneda girl's life was slowly gathering aboveher innocent head, and was soon tobreak, carrying in its turbulent depths asorrow more bitter than death to bear.

John Brooks glanced inquiringly fromthe one to the other, intuitively guessinghe must have interrupted a scene.

Daisy had struggled up from her kneesto a sitting posture, putting her hair,curled into a thousand shining rings,away from her flushed face.

"Have you been scolding Daisy again,Septima " he asked, angrily, taking thepanting little damsel from the floor andseating her upon his knee, and drawingher curly head down to his rough-cladshoulder, and holding it there with histoil-hardened hand. "What have youbeen saying to my little Daisy that I findher in tears "

"I was telling her if she did not mendher willful ways she might turn out likeher moth "

"Hush!" exclaimed John Brooks,excitedly. "I shouldn't have thought youwould have dared say that. What doesDaisy know of such things " hemuttered, indignantly. "Don't let yoursenses run away with you, Septima."

"Don't let your senses run away withyou, John Brooks. Haven't you thesense to know Daisy is getting too bigfor you to take on your knee and pet inthat fashion I am really ashamed ofyou. Daisy is almost a woman!"

snapped Septima, scornfully "quitesixteen."

John Brooks looked at his sister inamazement, holding little Daisy off andgazing into the sweet little bloomingface, and stroking the long fluffygolden curls as he replied:

"Ah, no, Septima; Daisy is only a child.Why, it seems as though it were butyesterday I used to take her with methrough the cotton-fields, and laugh tosee her stretch her chubby hands up,crying for the bursting blossoms,growing high above her curly goldenhead. Pshaw! Septima, Daisy is only amerry, frolicsome, romantic child yet."

Daisy nestled her tell-tale face closer onhis broad shoulder to hide the swiftblushes that crept up to cheek andbrow.

"Look up, pet," he said, coaxingly, "Ihave news for you."

"What what is it " gasped Daisy,wondering if he could possibly haveheard of her romantic marriage withRex, turning white to the very lips, herblue eyes darkening with suspense.

"Come, come, now," laughed, John,good-humoredly, "don't get excited,pet, it will take me just as long to tell it

anyhow; it is something that will pleaseyou immensely."

He drew from his breast pocket as hespoke a thick, yellow envelope, whichcontained several printed forms withblank spaces which were to be filled up.There was something in his voicewhich made Daisy look at him, but hereyes fell and her cheeks flushed hotly asshe met his glance.

Daisy was not used to keeping a secretlocked up in her truthful little heart.She longed to throw her arms aroundhis neck and whisper to him of hermad, romantic marriage, and of thehandsome young husband who loved

her so fondly.

Daisy knew so little of real life, and lessof love and marriage, up to the timeshe had met Rex! Her heroes had beenimaginary ones, her ideas of love onlygirlish, romantic fancies. It was all veryexciting and charming. She was veryfond of handsome Rex, but she had yetto learn the depths of love which,sooner or later, brightens the lives oflovable women.

Daisy looked at the envelope with awistful glance.

"I am going to make a lady of you, mylittle sunbeam. I am going to send you

off to boarding-school. That's whatyou have always wanted; now I amgoing to humor your whim."

"But I I do not want to go now, UncleJohn. I I have changed my mind."

"What!"

"I I don't want to go off to boarding-school now. I had rather stay here withyou."

John Brooks laid down the pipe he wasjust lighting in genuine surprise.

"Why, it's only last week you werecrying those pretty eyes of yours out,

teasing to be sent to school. I well,confound it I don't understand theways of women. I always thought youwere different from the rest, little Daisy,but I see you are all the same. Nevertwo days of the same mind. What is thereason you've changed your mind, pet "

"Indeed, I don't want to go now, UncleJohn. Please don't talk about it anymore. I I am happier here than I can tellyou."

John Brooks laughed cheerily.

"It's too late for you to change yourmind now, little one. I have madearrangements for you to start bright

and early to-morrow morning. Thestage will be here by daylight, so youhad better start off to bed at once, orthere will be no roses in these checksto-morrow."

He never forgot the expression of thewhite, startled face Daisy raised to his.For once in her life Daisy was unable toshake him from his purpose.

"I know best, little one," he said. "Imean to make a lady of you. You haveno fortune, little Daisy, but your prettyface. It will be hard to lose my littlesunbeam, but it is my duty, Daisy. It istoo late to back out now; for once I amfirm. You must start to-morrow

morning."

"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" sobbed Daisy,throwing herself down on her littlewhite bed when she had reached herown room, "what shall I do I can't gowithout seeing Rex. I never heard of agirl that was married being sent off toschool. I I dare not tell Uncle John Iam somebody's wife. Oh, if I couldonly see Rex!" Daisy springs out of bedand crosses over to the little whitecurtained window, gazing out into thestill calm beauty of the night. "If I onlyknew where to find Rex," she mused, "Iwould go to him now. Surely he wouldnot let me be sent away from him." Sheturned away from the window with a

sigh. "I must see Rex to-morrowmorning," she said, determinedly. Andthe weary little golden head, tired outwith the day which had just died out,sunk restfully down upon the snowypillow in a dreamless sleep, thehappiest, alas! that poor little girl-bridewas to know for long and weary years.

A dark, dreamy silence wraps thecottage in its soft embrace, the moon,clear and full, sails tranquilly throughthe star-sown heavens, and the sweetscent of distant orange groves is waftedthrough the midnight breeze. Yet thedark-cloaked figure that walks quicklyand softly up the graveled walk seesnone of the soft, calm beauty of the

still summer night. She raises the brassknocker with a quick, imperative touch.After a wait of perhaps ten minutes orso Septima answers the summons, butthe candle she holds nearly drops fromher hands as she beholds the face ofher midnight visitor in the dim,uncertain flickering glare of the candle-light.

"Miss Pluma," she exclaims, inamazement, "is there any one ill at theHall "

"No!" replies Pluma, in a low, soft,guarded whisper. "I wished to see youmy business is most important may Icome in "

"Certainly," answered Septima,awkwardly. "I beg your pardon, miss,for keeping you standing outside solong."

As Pluma took the seat Septima placedfor her, the dark cloak she wore fellfrom her shoulders, and Septima sawwith wonder she still wore theshimmering silk she had in allprobability worn at the fete. The rubiesstill glowed like restless, leaping fireupon her perfect arms and snowythroat, and sprays of hyacinth were stilltwined in her dark, glossy hair; but theywere quite faded now, drooping,crushed, and limp among her curls;

there was a strange dead-white palloron her haughty face, and a lurid gleamshone in her dark, slumbrous eyes.Pluma had studied well the characterof the woman before her who made nosecret of her dislike for the child thrustupon their bounty and readily imaginedshe would willingly aid her in carryingout the scheme she had planned.

Slowly one by one the stars died out ofthe sky; the pale moon drifted silentlybehind the heavy rolling clouds; thewinds tossed the tops of the tall treesto and fro, and the dense darknesswhich precedes the breaking of thegray dawn settled over the earth.

The ponies which the groom had heldfor long hours pawed the groundrestlessly; the man himself was growingimpatient.

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

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

"All is fair in love's warfare," shemutters, triumphantly. "Fool! with yourbaby face and golden hair, you shallwalk quickly into the net I have spreadfor you; he shall despise you. Ay, crush

with his heel into the earth the veryflowers that bear the name of Daisy."

CHAPTER VI.

Under the magnolia-tree, among thepink clover, Rex Lyon paced uneasily toand fro, wondering what could havehappened to detain Daisy. He was verynervous, feverish, and impatient, as hewatched the sun rising higher andhigher in the blue heavens, and glancedat his watch for the fifth time in thespace of a minute.

"Pshaw!" he muttered, whisking off the

tops of the buttercups near him withhis ebony walking-stick. "I am notmyself at all. I am growing as nervousas a woman. I think I'll read little sisterBirdie's letter over again to occupy mymind until my sweet little Daisycomes."

He sighed and smiled in one breath, ashe threw himself down at full lengthon the green grass under the trees.Taking from his pocket a little squarewhite envelope, addressed in a childishhand to "Mr. Rexford Lyon, Allendale,West Virginia, Care of Miss Pluma."Rex laughed aloud, until the tearsstarted to his eyes, as they fell on thewords "Care of Miss Pluma," heavily

underlined in the lower corner.

"That is just like careless little rompingBirdie," he mused. "She supposes,because she knows who Miss Pluma is,every one else must certainly be awareof the same fact."

He spread out the letter on his knee,trying hard to while away time inperusing its pages.

Rex looked so fresh and cool andhandsome in his white linen suit, lyingthere under the shady trees thatsummer morning, his dark curls restingon his white hand, and a smile lightingup his pleasant face, it is not to be

wondered at he was just the kind ofyoung fellow to win the love of youngromantic girls like Daisy and Pluma thehaughty young heiress.

Slowly Rex read the letter through tothe end. The morning stage whirledrapidly past him on its way to meet theearly train. Yet, all unconscious that itbore away from him his treasure, henever once glanced up from the letterhe was reading.

Again Rex laughed aloud as he glancedit over, reading as follows:

"DEAR BROTHER REX, We receivedthe letter you wrote, and the picture

you sent with it, and my heart has beenso heavy ever since that I could notwrite to you because big tears wouldfall on the page and blot it. Now, dearold Brother Rex, don't be angry at whatyour little Birdie is going to say.Mamma says you are going to marryand bring home a wife, and she showedme her picture, and said you was verymuch in love with her, and I must be sotoo. But I can't fall in love with her,Brother Rex; indeed, I've tried very hardand I can't; don't tell anybody, but I'mawfully afraid I sha'n't like her one bit.She looks stylish, and her name Plumasounds real stylish too, but she don'tlook kind. I thought, perhaps, if I toldyou I did not like her you might give

her up and come home. I forgot to tellyou the blue room and the room acrossthe hall is being fixed up for you justlovely, and I am to have your old one.

"P.S. And we received a letter from Mr.Lester Stanwick, too. He says he will bepassing through here soon and wishesto 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 Plumahome now," he laughed, whistling asnatch of "The Pages' Chorus." "Birdiewon't have anything to fear on thatscore. I do wish mother hadn't set my

heart on my marrying Pluma. Parentsmake a mistake in choosing whom theirchildren shall marry and whom theyshall not. Love goes where it is sent."

He looked at his watch again.

"By George!" he muttered, turning verypale upon seeing another hour hadslipped away, "I can not stand this aminute longer. I must see what hashappened to Daisy."

With a nameless fear clutching at hisheart a dark, shadowy fear like thepremonition of coming evil, Rex madehis way rapidly through the tangledunderbrush, cutting across lots to John

Brooks' cottage.

He had determined to call for Daisyupon some pretext. It was rather a boldundertaking and might cause comment,still Rex was reckless of allconsequences; he must see Daisy at allhazards; and when Rex made up hismind to do anything he usuallysucceeded; he was as daring andcourageous as he was reckless andhandsome.

Once, twice, thrice he knocked,receiving no answer to his summons.

"That's strange," he mused,"exceedingly strange."

Hardly knowing what prompted him todo it, Rex turned the knob; it yielded tothe touch, swinging slowly back on itscreaking hinges.

"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, gazingwildly about him and as pale as death,"Daisy is gone and the cottage isempty!"

He leaned against the door-way, puttinghis hand to his brow like one who hadreceived a heavy blow; and the barewalls seemed to take up the cry andecho, mockingly, "Gone!"

The blow was so sudden and

unexpected he was completelybewildered; his brain was in a whirl.

He saw a laborer crossing the cotton-fields and called to him.

"I was looking for John Brooks," saidRex. "I find the cottage empty. Can youtell me where they have gone "

"Gone!" echoed the man, surprisedly. "Idon't understand it; I was passing thedoor a few hours since, just as the stagedrove off with John Brooks and Daisy.'Good-bye, neighbor,' he called out tome, 'I am off on an extended businesstrip. You must bring your wife over tosee Septima; she will be lonely, I'll

warrant.' There was no sign of himmoving then. I I don't understand it."

"You say he took Daisy with him,"asked Rex, with painful eagerness. "Canyou tell me where they went "

The man shook his head and passedon. Rex was more mystified than ever.

"What can it all mean " he askedhimself. "Surely," he cried, "Daisy dearlittle innocent blue-eyed Daisy couldnot have meant to deceive me; yet whyhas she not told me "

The hot blood mounted to his temples.Perhaps Daisy regretted having married

him and had fled from him. Thethought was so bitter it almost took hisbreath away. Rex loved her so madly, sopassionately, so blindly, he vowed tohimself he would search heaven andearth to find her. And in that terriblehour the young husband tasted the firstdraught of the cup of bitterness whichhe was to drain to the very dregs.

Poor Rex! he little knew this was butthe first stroke of Pluma Hurlhurst'sfatal revenge to remove her rival fromher path that she might win him backto his old allegiance.

* * * * *

Early that morning there had been greatbustle and stir in the Brooks' cottage. Invain Daisy had attempted to stealquietly away into her own little roomand write a hasty line to Rex, which, ifall other means failed her, she couldsend to him by one of the menemployed in the fields, begging him tocome to her at once. Septima would notleave her to herself for a single instant.Even her writing-desk, which hadstood on the bureau in the corner foryears, was gone. Poor little Daisy criedout to herself fate was against her.

"I should like to say good-bye to theold familiar scenes, Septima," she said,making a desperate effort to meet Rex

by some means. "I should like to seethe old magnolia-tree down in the gladejust once before I go."

"Nonsense," replied Septima, sharply, amalicious smile hovering about thecorners of her mouth. "I guess thetrees and the flowers won't wither anddie of grief if you don't bid themgood-bye; it's too late now, anyhow.See, here is the stage coming already,"she cried, glancing out of the window,"and here comes John with his valiseand umbrella. Make haste, Daisy;where's your gloves and satchel "

For one brief instant Daisy stoodirresolute; if she had only dared cry out

to them "I am a bride; it is cruel to sendme away from Rex," what a world ofmisery might have been spared her! buther lips were sealed.

"Well, well," cried John Brooks,hurriedly entering the room; "not readyyet, little girlie We must be off at onceor we will miss the train."

In vain Daisy protested brokenly shecould not go, and the agony in thoseblue uplifted eyes would have toucheda heart of stone. Still John Brooksbelieved it would be a sin to complywith her request. Go to school shemust, for Heaven had intended acultured mind should accompany so

beautiful a face. Half lifting, halfcarrying the slight figure in hispowerful arms, Daisy was borne, halffainting and sobbing as though herheart would break, to the vehicle whichstood in waiting.

On through the fragrant stillness ofthat sunshiny summer morning thejolting stage rolled rapidly on its way,crossing the little bridge where she hadlingered only the night before with Rex,her husband; they would soon reachthe alder bushes that skirted the pool.The next bend in the road would bringher 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 cryout: "Rex, my love, my darling, they arebearing me from you! Save me, Rex, mydarling, save me!"

John Brooks sat quietly by her sidesilently wondering what had come overlittle Daisy sweet, impulsive little Daisyin a single night. "She is only a child,"he muttered to himself, "full of whimsand caprices; crying her eyes out lastweek because she could not go off toschool, and now crying because she'sgot to go."

Swiftly the stage rolled down the greensloping hill-side; in another moment it

had reached the alder bushes andgained the curve of the road, and shesaw Rex lying on the green grasswaiting for her. The sunlight driftingthrough the magnolia blossoms fellupon his handsome, upturned, smilingface and the dark curls pushed backfrom his white forehead. "Rex! Rex!"she cried, wringing her white hands, butthe words died away on her white lips,making no sound. Then the worldseemed to close darkly around her, andpoor little Daisy, the unhappy girl-bride, fell back in the coach in a deadlyswoon.

CHAPTER VII.

"Poor little Daisy!" cried John Brooks,wiping away a suspicious moisturefrom his eyes with his rough, toil-hardened hand, "she takes it pretty hardnow; but the time will come when shewill thank me for it. Heaven knowsthere's nothing in this world morevaluable than an education; and she willneed it, poor little, motherless child!"

As the stage drove up before the stationDaisy opened her blue eyes with a sigh."I can at least write to Rex at once," shethought, "and explain the whole matterto him." Daisy smiled as she thoughtRex would be sure to follow on the

very next train.

John Brooks watched the smile and theflush of the rosy face, and believedDaisy was beginning to feel morereconciled about going to school.

"I hope we will get there by noon," saidJohn, anxiously, taking the seat besideher on the crowded train. "If wemissed the train at the cross-roads itwould be a serious calamity. I should beobliged to send you on alone; for I mustget to New York by night, as I havesome very important business totransact for the plantation which mustbe 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 always guarded mylittle flower from the world's cruelblasts, and you are unused to the roughside of life."

"Still, I could go on alone," persistedDaisy, bravely.

John Brooks laughed outright.

"You would get lost at the first corner,my girlie! Then I should have to flyaround to these newspaper offices,

advertising for the recovery of a littlecountry Daisy which was either lost,strayed, or stolen. No, no, little one!" hecried; "I would not trust you alone, astranger in a great city. A thousand illsmight befall a young girl with a face likeyours."

"No one would know I was a stranger,"replied Daisy, innocently. "I shouldsimply inquire the way to MadameWhitney's, and follow the directionsgiven me."

"There! didn't I tell you you couldnever find the way " laughed John untilhe was red in the face. "You suppose acity is like our country lanes, eh where

you tell a stranger: 'Follow that pathuntil you come to a sign-post, then thatwill tell you which road leads to thevillage.' Ha! ha! ha! Why, my dear littleDaisy, not one person in a hundredwhom you might meet ever heard ofMadame Whitney! In cities people don'tknow their very neighbors personally.They are sure to find out if there's anyscandal afloat about them and that is allthey do know about them. You wouldhave a lively time of it finding MadameWhitney's without your old uncle Johnto pilot you through, I can tell you."

Daisy's last hope was nipped in thebud. She had told herself, if she wereleft alone, she could send a telegram

back at once to Rex, and he would joinher, and she would not have to go toschool school, which would separate agirl-bride from her handsome younghusband, of whom she was fastlearning to be so fond.

"I could have sent you under the careof Mr. Stanwick," continued John,thoughtfully. "He started for the cityyesterday but I did not receive MadameWhitney's letter in time."

He did not notice, as he spoke, that theoccupant in the seat directly in front ofthem gave a perceptible start, drawingthe broad slouch hat he wore, whichconcealed his features so well, still

further over his face, while a cruel smilelingered for a moment about thehandsome mouth.

The stranger appeared deeply interestedin the columns of the paper he heldbefore him; but in reality he waslistening attentively to the conversationgoing on behind him.

"I shall not lose sight of this prettylittle girl," said Lester Stanwick tohimself, for it was he. "No power onearth shall save her from me. I shall winher from him by fair means or foul. Itwill be a glorious revenge!"

"Madame Whitney's seminary is a very

high-toned institution," continuedJohn, reflectively; "and the young girls Isaw there wore no end of furbelowsand ribbons; but I'll warrant for fresh,sweet beauty you'll come out ahead ofall of 'em, Pet."

"You think so much of me, dear goodold uncle," cried Daisy, gratefully. "I Iwonder if any one in the world couldever could ever care for me as as you do" whispered Daisy, laying her soft,warm cheek against his rough hand.

"No one but a husband," heresponded, promptly. "But you are tooyoung to have such notions in yourhead yet awhile. Attend to your books,

and don't think of beaus. Now that weare on the subject, I might as well speakout what I've had on my mind sometime back. I don't want my little Daisyto fall in love with any of thesestrangers she happens to meet. You aretoo young to know anything about loveaffairs. You'll never rightly understand ituntil it comes to you. I must know allabout the man who wants my littleDaisy. Whatever you do, little one, doupright and honestly. And, above all,never deceive me. I have often heard ofthese romantic young school-girlsfalling in love with handsome strangers,and clandestine meetings following,ending in elopements; but, mark mywords, no good comes of these

deceptions forewarned is forearmed.Daisy, you'll always remember mywords, and say to yourself: 'He knowswhat is best.' You will remember what Isay, won't you, Pet "

He wondered why the fair, sweet facegrew as pale as a snow-drop, and thecold little fingers trembled in his clasp,and the velvety eyes drooped beneathhis earnest gaze.

"Yes," whispered Daisy; "I shallremember what you have said."

In spite of her efforts to speaknaturally and calmly the sweet voicewould tremble.

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

"Ah, here we are!" cried John, hastilygathering up their satchels andinnumerable bundles. "We must makehaste to reach the uptown omnibus toget a seat, or we shall have to stand andcling to the strap all the way up. I'm anold traveler, you see. There's nothinglike knowing the ins and outs."

"Have a coach uptown, sir Take you toany part of the city. Coach, sir " criedinnumerable hackmen, gathering aboutthem.

Daisy tightened her hold on John's arm.She quite believed they intended to pickher up and put her in the coach bymain force. One of them was actuallywalking off with her reticule.

"Hold there, young man," cried John,quickly, recovering the satchel. "Don'tmake yourself uneasy on our account.We would be pleased to ride in yourconveyance if you don't chargeanything. We have no money."

The loquacious hackmen fell back as ifby magic. Daisy was blushing like arose, terribly embarrassed. John Brookslaughed long and heartily.

"That's the quickest way in the world torid yourself of those torments," hedeclared, enjoying his little joke hugely."Why, Daisy, if you had come on alonesome of those chaps would havespirited you away without even sayingso much as 'by your leave.'"

Mme. Whitney's Seminary for YoungLadies was a magnificent structure,situated in the suburbs of Baltimore.On either side of the pebbled walkwhich led to the main entrance were tallfountains tossing their rainbow-tintedsprays up to the summer sunshine. Thelawn in front was closely shaven, andthrough the trees in the rear of the

building could be seen the broadrolling Chesapeake dancing andsparkling in the sunlight. Thereputation of this institution wassecond to none. Young ladies werejustly proud of being able to say theyfinished their education at Mme.Whitney's establishment.

As a natural consequence, the schoolwas composed of the elite of the South.Clang! clang! clang! sounded the greatbell from the belfry as Daisy, with asinking, homesick feeling stealing overher, walked slowly up the paved walkby John Brooks' side toward theimposing, aristocratic structure.

Poor little Daisy never forgot that firstday at boarding-school; how all thedainty young girls in their soft whitemuslins glanced in surprise at her whenMme. Whitney brought her into theschool-room, but she could haveforgiven them for that if they had notlaughed at her poor old uncle John, inhis plain country garb, and they giggledbehind their handkerchiefs when sheclung to his neck and could not saygood-bye through her tears, but sunkdown into her seat, leaning her head onher desk, bravely trying to keep backthe pearly drops that would fall.

When recess came Daisy did not leaveher seat. She would have given the

world to have heard Rex's voice justthen; she was beginning to realize howmuch his sheltering love was to her. Shewould even have been heartily glad tohave been back in the little kitchen atthe cottage, no matter how muchSeptima scolded her.

All the girls here had the same haughtyway of tossing their heads and curlingtheir lips and looking innumerablethings out of their eyes, whichreminded Daisy so strongly of PlumaHurlhurst.

Most of the girls had left the school-room, dividing off into groups andpairs here and there. Daisy sat watching

them, feeling wretchedly lonely.Suddenly a soft white hand was laidlightly on her shoulder, and a sweetvoice said:

"We have a recess of fifteen minutes,won't you come out into the groundswith me I should be so pleased to haveyou come." The voice was so gentle, socoaxing, so sweet, Daisy involuntarilyglanced up at the face of the young girlbending over her as she arose toaccompany her. She put her armaround Daisy's waist, school-girlfashion, as they walked down the lonehalls and out to the green grassy lawn."My name is Sara Miller," she said; "willyou tell me yours "

"Daisy Brooks," she answered, simply.

"What a pretty name!" cried her new-found friend, enthusiastically, "and howwell it suits you! Why, it is a little poemin itself."

Daisy flushed as rosy as the crimsongeraniums near them, rememberingRex, her own handsome Rex, had saidthe same thing that morning he hadcarried her heavy basket to the gates ofWhitestone Hall that morning when allthe world seemed to change as sheglanced up into his merry brown eyes.

"We are to be room-mates," explained

Sara, "and I know I shall like you everso much. Do you think you will like me"

"Yes," said Daisy. "I like you now."

"Thank you," said Miss Sara, making amock courtesy. "I am going to love youwith all my might, and if you don't loveme you will be the most ungratefulcreature in the world. I know just howlonesome you must be," continuedSara. "I remember just how lonesome Iwas the first day I was away frommamma, and when night set in and Iwas all alone, and I knew I was securelylocked in, I was actually thinking oftearing the sheets of my bed into strips

and making a rope of them, and lettingmyself down to the ground throughthe window, and making for home asfast as I could. I knew I would bebrought back the next day, though,"laughed Sara. "Mamma is so strict withme. I suppose yours is too "

"I have no mother or father," answeredDaisy. "All my life I have lived withJohn Brooks and his sister Septima, onthe Hurlhurst Plantation. I call themaunt and uncle. Septima has often toldme no relationship at all existedbetween us."

"You are an orphan, then " suggestedthe sympathetic Sara. "Is there no one

in all the world related to you "

"Yes no o," answered Daisy, confusedly,thinking of Rex, her young husband,and of the dearest relationship in allthe world which existed between them.

"What a pity," sighed Sara. "Well,Daisy," she cried, impulsively, throwingboth her arms around her and givingher a hearty kiss, "you and I will be allthe world to each other. I shall tell youall my secrets and you must tell meyours. There's some girls you can trust,and some you can't. If you tell themyour secrets, the first time you have aspat your secret is a secret no longer.Every girl in the school knows all about

it; of course you are sure to make upagain. But," added Sara, with a wiseexpression, "after you are oncedeceived, you can never trust themagain."

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

And the two girls sealed their compactwith a kiss, just as the great bell in thebelfry rang, warning them they must beat their lessons again recess was over.

CHAPTER VIII.

In one of the private offices of Messrs.Tudor, Peck & Co., the shrewdBaltimore detectives, stood Rex, waitingpatiently until the senior member ofthe firm should be at leisure.

"Now, my dear sir, I will attend youwith pleasure," said Mr. Tudor, sealingand dispatching the note he had justfinished, and motioning Rex to a seat.

"I shall be pleased if you will permitme to light a cigar," said Rex, taking theseat indicated.

"Certainly, certainly; smoke, if you feel

so inclined, by all means," replied thedetective, watching with a puzzledtwinkle in his eye the fair, boyish faceof his visitor. "No, thank you," he said,as Rex tendered him an Havana; "Inever smoke during business hours."

"I wish to engage your services to findout the whereabouts of of of mywife," said Rex, hesitatingly. "She hasleft me suddenly she fled on the verynight of our marriage!"

It hurt Rex's pride cruelly to make thisadmission, and a painful flush crept upinto the dark rings of hair lying on hiswhite forehead.

Mr. Tudor was decidedly amazed. Hecould not realize how any sane youngwoman could leave so handsome ayoung fellow as the one before him. Inmost cases the shoe was on the otherfoot; but he was too thoroughly masterof his business to express surprise inhis face. He merely said:

"Go on, sir; go on!"

And Rex did go on, never sparinghimself in describing how he urgedDaisy to marry him on the night of thefete, and of their parting, and thesolemn promise to meet on themorrow, 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, leaninghis head on his white hand. "But Imust find her!" he cried, with energy. "Ishall search the world over for her. If ittakes every cent of my fortune, I shallfind Daisy!"

Rex looked out of the window at thesoft, fleecy clouds overhead, littledreaming Daisy was watching thoseself-same clouds, scarcely a stone'sthrow from the very spot where he sat,and at that moment he was nearerDaisy than he would be for perhapsyears again, for the strong hand of Fate

was slowly but surely drifting themasunder.

For some moments neither spoke.

"Perhaps," said Mr. Tudor, breaking thesilence, "there was a previous lover inthe case "

"I am sure there was not!" said Rex,eagerly.

Still the idea was new to him. Headored Daisy with a mad, idolatrousadoration, almost amounting toworship, and a love so intense issusceptible to the poisonous breath ofjealousy, and jealousy ran in Rex's veins.

He could not endure the thought ofDaisy's his Daisy's eyes brightening orher cheek flushing at the approach of arival that fair, flower-like face, sweetand innocent as a child's Daisy, whomhe so madly loved.

"Well," said Mr. Tudor, as Rex arose todepart, "I will do all I can for you.Leave your address, please, in case Ishould wish to communicate withyou."

"I think I shall go back to Allendale,remaining there at least a month or so. Ihave a strong conviction Daisy mightcome back, or at least write to methere."

Mr. Tudor jotted down the address,feeling actually sorry for the handsomeyoung husband clinging to such a frailstraw of hope. In his own mind, longbefore Rex had concluded his story, hehad settled his opinion that from somecause the young wife had fled fromhim with some rival, bitterly repentingher mad, hasty marriage.

"I have great faith in youracknowledged ability," said Rex,grasping Mr. Tudor's outstretchedhand. "I shall rest my hopes upon yourfinding Daisy. I can not, will not,believe she is false. I would as soonthink of the light of heaven playing me

false as my sweet little love!"

* * * * *

The dark mantle of night had folded itsdusky wings over the inmates of theseminary. All the lights were out in theyoung ladies' rooms as the nine-o'clockcall, "All lights out!" had been calledsome ten minutes before all the lightssave one, flickering, dim, and uncertain,from Daisy's window.

"Oh, dear!" cried Daisy, laying her pinkcheek down on the letter she waswriting to Rex, "I feel as though I coulddo something very desperate to get awayfrom here and and back to Rex. Poor

fellow!" she sighed, "I wonder what hethought, as the hours rolled by and Idid not come Of course he went overto the cottage," she mused, "andSeptima must have told him where Ihad gone. Rex will surely come for meto-morrow," she told herself, with asweet, shy blush.

She read and reread the letter hertrembling little hands had penned withmany a heart-flutter. It was a shy, sweetlittle letter, beginning with "Dear Mr.Rex," and ending with, "Yours sincerely,Daisy." It was just such a dear, timidletter as many a pure, fresh-heartedloving young girl would write, brimfulof the love which filled her guileless

heart for her handsome, debonair Rexwith many allusions to the secretbetween them which weighed soheavily on her heart, sealing her lips forhis dear sake.

After sealing and directing her preciousletter, and placing it in the letter-bagwhich hung at the lower end of thecorridor, Daisy hurried back to herown apartment and crept softly into herlittle white bed, beside Sara, and wassoon fast asleep, dreaming of Rex and adark, haughty, scornful face fallingbetween them and the sunshine thecold, mocking face of PlumaHurlhurst.

Mme. Whitney, as was her custom,always looked over the out-going mailearly in the morning, sealing the lettersof which she approved, and returning,with a severe reprimand, those whichdid not come up to the standard of herideas.

"What is this " she cried, in amazement,turning the letter Daisy had written inher hand. "Why, I declare, it is actuallysealed!" Without the least compunctionshe broke the seal, grimly scanning itscontents from beginning to end. Ifthere was anything under the sun themadame abominated it was love-letters.

It was an established fact that no tender

billets-doux found their way from theacademy; the argus-eyed madame wastoo watchful for that.

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

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

"Poor little thing!" cried thesympathetic Jenkins to herself. "Iwonder what in the world is amiss nowThere's fire in the madame's eye. I hopeshe don't intend to scold poor littleDaisy Brooks." Jenkins had taken aviolent fancy to the sweet-faced,

golden-haired, timid young stranger.

"It must be something terrible, I'msure!" cried Sara, when she heard themadame had sent for Daisy; while poorDaisy's hand trembled so she couldscarcely tell why that she could hardlybind up the golden curls that fell downto her waist in a wavy, shining sheen.

Daisy never once dreamed her letterwas the cause of her unexpectedsummons, until she entered Mme.Whitney's presence and saw it openedyes, opened her own sacred, lovingletter to Rex in her hand.

Daisy was impulsive, and her first

thought was to grasp her precious letterand flee to her own room. How daredthe madame open the precious lettershe 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, raisingher dark-blue eyes pleadingly to thestern face before her.

"And may I ask by what right youdared violate the rules and regulationsof this establishment by sending a

sealed letter to a man Your guardianstrictly informed me you had nocorrespondents whatever, and I findthis is a I blush to confess it actually alove-letter. What have you to say inreference to your folly, Miss Brooks "

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

"You don't know " repeated madame,scornfully. "Not a very satisfactoryexplanation. Well, Miss Brooks, I havefully determined what steps I shall takein the matter. I shall read this letter thismorning before the whole school; itwill afford me an excellent opportunityto point out the horrible depths towhich young girls are plunged by

allowing their minds to wander fromtheir books to such thoughts as arehere expressed. What do you mean bythis secret to which you allude so often" she asked, suddenly.

"Please do not ask me, madame,"sobbed Daisy; "I can not tell youindeed I can not. I dare not!"

An alarming thought occurred tomadame.

"Speak, girl!" she cried, hoarsely,grasping her firmly by the shoulder. "Imust know the meaning of this secretwhich is so appalling. You fear to revealit! Does your guardian know of it "

"No o!" wailed Daisy; "I could not tellhim. I must keep the secret."

Poor little innocent Daisy! her ownwords had convicted her beyond allpardon in the eyes of shrewd,suspicious Mme. Whitney, whoguessed, as is usually the case, wide ofthe mark, as to the cause of the secretDaisy dare not to reveal to her guardianor herself.

"My duty is plain in this case," saidmadame. "I shall read this as a terriblewarning to the young ladies of thisinstitution; then I will send for Mr.John Brooks, your guardian, and place

this letter in his hands."

"Oh, no, madame, in pity's name, no!"sobbed Daisy, wildly, kneelingimploringly at her feet, her heartbeating tumultuously, and her handslocked convulsively together. "Do not,madame, I pray you; anything but that;he would cast me out of his heart andhome, and I I could not go to Rex, yousee."

But madame did not see. She laughed alittle hard, metallic laugh that grated,oh, so cruelly, on Daisy's sensitivenerves.

When one woman's suspicions are

aroused against another, Heaven helpthe suspected one; there is little mercyshown her.

"Man's inhumanity to man" is nothingcompared to woman's inhumanity towoman.

Mme. Whitney had discovered a capitalway to score a hit in the direction ofmorality.

"No," she said, laying the letter downon the table before her. "Arise fromyour knees, Miss Brooks. Your prayersare useless. I think this will be a life-long lesson to you."

"Oh, madame, for the love of Heaven!"cried Daisy, rocking herself to and fro,"spare me, I beseech you! Can nothingalter your purpose "

"Well," said madame, reflectively, "Imay not be quite so severe with you ifyou will confess, unreservedly, thewhole truth concerning this terriblesecret, and what this young man Rex isto you."

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

"Very well," said madame, rising,indicating the conversation was at an

end, "I shall not press you further onthe subject. I will excuse you now, MissBrooks. You may retire to your room."

Still Daisy rocked herself to and fro onher knees at her feet. Suddenly a daringthought occurred to her. The letterwhich had caused her such bitter woelay on the table almost within her verygrasp the letter, every line of whichbreathed of her pure, sacred love forRex her Rex whom she dared not evenclaim. She could imagine madamecommenting upon every word andsentence, ridiculing those tenderexpressions which had been suchrapturous joy to her hungry little heartas she had penned them. And, last of

all, and far the most bitter thought,how dear old John Brooks would turnhis honest eyes upon her tell-tale face,demanding to know what the secretwas the secret which she had promisedher young husband she would notreveal, come what would. If his faceshould grow white and stern, and thoselips, which had blessed, praised, andpetted, but never scolded her if thoselips should curse her, she would diethen and there at his feet. In an instantshe had resolved upon a wild,hazardous plan. Quick as a flash oflightning Daisy sprung to her feet andtore the coveted letter from madame'sdetaining grasp; the door stood open,and with the fleetness of a hunted deer

she flew down the corridor, neverstopping for breath until she hadgained the very water's edge.

Mme. Whitney gave a loud shriek andactually fainted, and the attendant, whohurried to the scene, caught but aglimpse of a white, terrified, beautifulface, and a cloud of flying golden hair.No one in that establishment evergazed upon the face of Daisy Brooksagain!

CHAPTER IX.

"Where is Miss Brooks " cried Mme.

Whitney, excitedly, upon opening hereyes. "Jenkins," she cried, motioning tothe attendant who stood nearest her,"see that Miss Brooks is detained in herown room under lock and key until Iam at liberty to attend to her case."

The servants looked at one another inblank amazement. No one dared tellher Daisy had fled.

The torn envelope, which Daisy hadneglected to gain possession of, lay ather feet.

With a curious smile Mme. Whitneysmoothed it out carefully, and placed itcarefully away in her private desk.

"Rex Lyon," she mused, knitting herbrow. "Ah, yes, that was the name, Ibelieve. He must certainly be the one.Daisy Brooks shall suffer keenly forthis outrage," cried the madame,grinding her teeth with impotent rage."I shall drag her pride down to the verydust beneath my feet. How dare thelittle rebel defy my orders I shall haveher removed to the belfry-room; a nightor two there will humble her pride, Idare say," fumed the madame, pacingup and down the room. "I havebrought worse tempers than hers intosubjection; still I never dreamed thelittle minx would dare openly defy me inthat manner. I shall keep her in the

belfry-room, under lock and key, untilshe asks my pardon on her bendedknees; and what is more, I shall wrestthe secret from her the secret she hasdefied me to discover."

* * * * *

On sped Daisy, as swift as the wind,crushing the fatal letter in her bosom,until she stood at the very edge of thebroad, glittering Chesapeake. The rosy-gold rays of the rising sun lighted upthe waves with a thousand arrowysparkles like a vast sea of glittering,waving gold. Daisy looked over hershoulder, noting the dark formshurrying to and fro.

"They are searching for me," she said,"but I will never go back to themnever!"

She saw a man's form hurrying towardher. At that moment she beheld,moored in the shadow of a clump ofalders at her very feet, a small boatrocking to and fro with the tide. Daisyhad a little boat of her own at home;she knew how to use the oars.

"They will never think of looking forme out on the water," she cried,triumphantly, and quickly untying it,she sprung into the little skiff, andseizing the oars, with a vigorous stroke

the little shell shot rapidly out into theshimmering water, Daisy never oncepausing in her mad, impetuous flightuntil the dim line of the shore wasalmost indistinguishable from the bluearching dome of the horizon. "There,"she cried, flushed and excited, leaningon the oars; "no one could possiblythink of searching for me out here."

Her cheeks were flushed and her blueeyes danced like stars, while thefreshening breeze blew her brightshining hair to and fro.

Many a passing fisherman cast admiringglances at the charming little fairy, sosweet and so daring, out all alone on

the smiling, treacherous, dancing wavesso far away from the shore. But ifDaisy saw them, she never heededthem.

"I shall stay here until it is quite dark,"she said to herself; "they will haveceased to look for me by that time. Ican reach the shore quite unobserved,and watch for Sara to get my hat andsacque; and then" a rosy flush stole upto the rings of her golden hair as shethought what she would do then "Ishall go straight back to Rex myhusband!"

She knew John Brooks would notreturn home for some time to come,

and she would not go back to Septima.She made up her mind she wouldcertainly go to Rex. She would wait atthe depot, and, if Rex did not come inon the early train, she would go back atonce to Allendale. Her purse, withtwenty dollars in it which seemed quitea fortune to Daisy was luckily in herpocket, together with half of an appleand a biscuit. The healthful exercise ofrowing, together with the fresh, coolbreeze, gave Daisy a hearty appetite,and the apple and biscuit afforded herquite a pleasant lunch.

Poor Daisy! The pretty little girl-bridehad no more thought of danger than achild. She had no premonition that

every moment the little boat, driftingrapidly along with the tide, was bearingher rapidly onward toward death anddestruction.

Daisy paid little heed to the dark rollingclouds that were slowly obscuring thebrilliant sunshine, or the swirl and dashof the waves that were rocking her littleboat so restlessly to and fro. The hoursseemed to slip heedlessly by her. Thesoft gloaming seemed to fall about herswiftly and without warning.

"I must turn my boat about at once!"cried Daisy, in alarm. "I am quite a longway from the shore!"

At that moment the distant rumblingroar of thunder sounded dismally overthe leaden-gray, white-capped water;and the wind, rising instantly into afierce gale, hurled the dark storm-clouds across the sky, blotting the luridglow of sunset and mantling theheavens above her in its dusky folds.

Daisy was brave of heart, but in theface of such sudden and unlooked-fordanger her courage failed her. Thepretty rose-bloom died away from herface, and her beautiful blue eyesexpanded wide with terror. She caughther breath with a sob, and, seizing theoar with two soft, childish hands, madea desperate attempt to turn the boat.

The current resisted her weak effort,snapping the oar in twain like a slendertwig and whirling it from her grasp.

"Rex! Rex!" she cried out, piteously,stretching out her arms, "save me! Oh, Iam lost lost! Heaven pity me!"

The night had fallen swiftly around her.Out, alone, on the wild, pitiless,treacherous waves alone with the stormand the darkness!

The storm had now commenced inearnest, beating furiously against thelittle boat, and lashing the mad wavesinto seething foam as they dashed highabove the terrified girl. No sound could

be heard above the wild warring of theelements the thunder's roar, the furiouslashing of the waves and the white,radiant lightning blazing across the vastexpanse of water, making the scenesublime in its terrible grandeur.

"Rex! my love, my life!" she cried, in theintense agony of despair, "you willnever know how well I loved you! Ihave faced death rather than betray thesweet, sad secret I am your wife!"

Was it the wild flashing of thelightning, or was it a red light she sawswinging to and fro, each momentdrawing rapidly nearer and nearerHeaven be praised! it was a barge of

some kind; help was within her reach.

"Help!" cried Daisy, faintly. "Help! I amalone out on the water!" she held outher arms toward the huge vessel whichloomed up darkly before her, but theterrified voice was drowned by thefierce beating of the storm.

Suddenly her little boat spun roundand round, the swift water was drawingher directly in the path of the barge;another moment and it would be uponher; she beat the air with her whitehands, gazing with frozen horror at thefatal lights drawing nearer and nearer.

"Rex, my love, good-bye!" she wailed,

sinking down in the bottom of theboat as one end of the barge struck itwith tremendous force.

* * * * *

Leaning over the railing, evidentlyunmindful of the fierce fury of thestorm that raged around him, stood ayoung man, gazing abstractedly overthe wild dashing waves. A dark smileplayed about the corners of his mouth,and his restless eyes wore a pleasedexpression, as though his thoughtswere in keeping with the wild, warringelements.

Suddenly, through the terrible roar of

the storm, he heard a piteous appeal forhelp, and the voice seemed to die awayover the angry, muttering waves. Heleaned over the railing breathless withexcitement. The thunder crashed almostincessantly, and there came a stunningbolt, followed by a blinding blaze oflightning. In that one instant he hadseen a white, childish face, framed in amass of floating golden hair, turnedtoward him.

One instant more and she would beswept beneath the ponderous wheel,beyond all mortal power of help; thenthe dark, hungry waters closed cruellyover her, but in that one instantaneousglance the man's face had turned deadly

pale.

"Great God!" he shrieked, hoarsely, "itis Daisy Brooks!"

CHAPTER X.

On the evening which followed the onejust described in our last chapter,Pluma Hurlhurst sat in her luxuriantboudoir of rose and gold, deeplyabsorbed in the three letters which sheheld in her lap. To one was appendedthe name of Septima Brooks, one wasfrom Rex's mother, and the last and byfar the most important one bore the

signature of Lester Stanwick.

Once, twice, thrice she perused it, eachtime with growing interest, theglittering light deepening in her dark,flashing eyes, and the red lips curling ina scornful smile.

"This is capital!" she cried, exultingly;"even better than I had planned. Icould not see my way clear before, butnow everything is clear sailing." Shecrossed over to the mirror, looking longand earnestly at the superb figurereflected there. "I am fair to lookupon," she cried, bitterly. "Why can notRex love me "

Ah! she was fair to look upon, standingbeneath the softened glow of theoverhanging chandelier, in her dress ofgold brocade, with a pomegranateblossom on her bosom, and a diamondspray flashing from the dark, glossycurls, magnificently beautiful.

"I was so sure of Rex," she said,bitterly; "if any one had said to me,'Rex prefers your overseer's niece, DaisyBrooks, with her baby face and pink-and-white beauty,' I would havelaughed them to scorn. Prefers her tome, the haughty heiress of WhitestoneHall, for whose love, or even smile,men have sued in vain! I have managedthe whole affair very cleverly!" she

mused. "John Brooks does not returnbefore the coming spring, and Septimais removed from my path mosteffectually, and if Lester Stanwickmanages his part successfully, I shallhave little to fear from Daisy Brooks!How clever Lester was to learn Rex hadbeen to the Detective Agency! How hemust have loved that girl!" she cried,hotly, with a darkening brow. "Ah,Rex!" she whispered, softly (and for aninstant the hard look died out of herface), "no one shall take you from me. Iwould rather look upon your face coldin death, and know no one else couldclaim you, than see you smile lovinglyupon a rival. There is no torture underheaven so bitter to endure as the pangs

of a love unreturned!" she cried,fiercely. She threw open the windowand leaned far out into the radiantstarlight, as the great clock pealed thehour of seven. "Rex has received mynote," she said, "with the one from hismother inclosed. Surely he will notrefuse my request. He will come, if onlythrough politeness!" Again she laughed,that low, mocking laugh peculiar to her,as she heard the peal of the bell. "It isRex," she whispered, clasping her handsover her beating heart. "To-night I willsow the first seeds of distrust in yourheart, and when they take root youshall despise Daisy Brooks a thousand-fold more than you love her now. Sheshall feel the keen thrust of a rival's

bitter vengeance!"

Casting a last lingering glance (sowoman-like!) at the perfect face themirror reflected, to give her confidencein herself for the coming ordeal, PlumaHurlhurst glided down to the parlor,where Rex awaited her.

It would have been hard to believe theproud, willful, polished young heiresscould lend herself to a plot so dark andso cruel as the one she was at thatmoment 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, and Plumacould scarcely repress the cry ofastonishment that rose to her lips as shesaw how pale and haggard he looked inthe softened light. She knew but toowell the cause.

He was quite unaware of Pluma'spresence until a soft, white, jeweledhand was laid lightly on his arm, and alow, musical voice whispered, "I am soglad you have come, Rex," close to hiselbow.

They had parted under peculiarcircumstances. He could fancy her atthat moment kneeling to him, underthe glare of the lamp-light, confessing

her love for him, and denouncing poorlittle clinging Daisy with such bitterscorn. His present position wascertainly an embarrassing one to Rex.

"I am here in accordance with yourrequest, Miss Hurlhurst," he said,simply, bowing coldly over the whitehand that would cling to his arm.

"You are very kind," she said, sweetly,"to forget that unpleasant little episodethat happened at the fete, and come to-night. I believe I should never have sentfor you," she added, archly, smiling upinto his face, "had it not been at theurgent request of your mother, Rex."

Pluma hesitated. Rex bit his lip inannoyance, but he was too courteous toopenly express his thoughts; he merelybowed again. He meant Pluma shouldunderstand all thoughts of love ortenderness must forever more be a deadletter between them.

"My mother!" he repeated, wonderingly;"pardon me, I do not understand."

For answer she drew his mother's letterfrom her bosom and placed it in hishands.

He ran his eyes quickly over the page.The postscript seemed to enlightenhim.

"The course of true love never runssmooth," it ran, "and I beseech you,Pluma dear, if anything should everhappen, any shadow fall upon yourlove, I beseech you send for Rex andplace this letter in his hands. It wouldnot be unwomanly, Pluma, because I,his mother, so earnestly request it; for,on your love for each other hangs myhopes of happiness. Rex is impulsiveand willful, but he will respect hismother's wishes."

No thought of treachery ever crossedRex's mind as he read the lines beforehim; he never once dreamed theingeniously worded postscript had been

so cleverly imitated and added byPluma's own hand. It never occurred tohim for an instant to doubt thesincerity of the words he read, when heknew how dearly his mother loved theproud, haughty heiress before him.

"I heard you were going away, Rex," shesaid, softly, "and I I could not let yougo so, and break my own heart."

"In one sense, I am glad you sent forme," said Rex, quietly ignoring her lastremark. "I shall be much pleased torenew our friendship, Miss Pluma, for Ineed your friendship nay, more, I needyour sympathy and advice more than Ican express. I have always endeavored

to be frank with you, Pluma," he said,kindly. "I have never spoken wordswhich might lead you to believe I lovedyou."

He saw her face grow white under hisearnest gaze and the white lace on herbosom rise and fall convulsively, yet shemade him no answer.

"Please permit me to tell you why,Pluma," he said, taking her hand andleading her to a sofa, taking a seat byher side. "I could not," he continued,"in justice to either you or myself; for Inever knew what love was," he said,softly, "until the night of the fete."Again he paused; but, as no answer was

vouchsafed him, he went on: "I neverknew what love meant until I met Daisylittle Daisy Brooks."

"Rex!" cried Pluma, starting to her feet,"you know not what you say surely youdo not know! I would have warnedyou, but you would not listen. I sawyou drifting toward a yawning chasm; Istretched out my arms to save you, butyou would not heed me. You are astranger to the people around here, Rex,or they would have warned you. Sin isnever so alluring as in the guise of abeautiful woman. It is not too late yet.Forget Daisy Brooks; she is not a fitcompanion for noble Rex Lyon, orpure enough to kiss an honest man's

lips."

"For God's sake, Miss Hurlhurst, whatdo you mean " cried Rex, slowly risingfrom his seat and facing her, pale asdeath. "In Heaven's name, explain theaccusations you have just uttered, or Ishall go mad! If a man had utteredthose words, I would have "

The words died away on his lips; heremembered he was talking to awoman. Rex's eyes fairly glowed withrage as he turned on his heel and stroderapidly up and down the room.

"Rex," said Pluma, softly advancing astep toward him, "it always grieves a

true woman to admit the error of afallen sister they would shield her ifsuch a thing were possible."

"I do not believe it," retorted Rex,impetuously. "Women seem to take akeen delight in slandering one another,as far as I can see. But you might as welltell me yonder moon was treacherousand vile as to tell me Daisy Brooks wasaught but sweet and pure you couldnot force me to believe it."

"I do not attempt to force you tobelieve it. I have told you the truth, as aloving sister might have done. None areso blind as those who will not see," shesaid, toying with the jewels upon her

white fingers.

"Daisy Brooks is as pure as yonder lily,"cried Rex, "and I love her as I love mysoul!"

His quivering, impassioned voicethrilled Pluma to her heart's core, andshe felt a keen regret that this wealth oflove was withheld from her ownhungry heart. Rex had never appearedso noble, so handsome, so well worthwinning, in her eyes, as at that moment.

"I am sorry for you, Rex," sobbedPluma, artfully burying her face in herlace kerchief, "because she can neverreturn your love; she does not love you,

Rex."

"Yes, she does love me," cried Rex. "Ihave settled it beyond a doubt."

"She has settled it beyond a doubt isnot that what you mean, Rex " sheasked, looking him squarely in the face,with a peculiar glitter in her sparklingdark eyes.

"There is something you are keepingfrom me, Pluma," cried Rex, seizingboth of her hands, and gazinganxiously into the false, fair, smiling,treacherous face. "You know whereDaisy has gone in Heaven's name, tellme! I can not endure the suspense do

not torture me, Pluma! I will forget youhave spoken unkindly of poor littleDaisy if you will only tell me where shehas gone."

"Sit down, Rex," she said, soothingly; "Iwill not dare tell you while you look atme with such a gleaming light in youreyes. Promise not to interrupt me to theend."

A nameless dread was clutching at hisheart-strings. What could she mean heasked himself, confusedly. What didthis foul mystery mean He must know,or he would go mad!

"You may speak out unreservedly, Miss

Pluma," he said, hoarsely. "I give youmy word, as a gentleman, I shall notinterrupt you, even though your wordsshould cause me a bitter heart-pang."

He stood before her, his arms foldedacross his breast, yet no pang ofremorse crept into Pluma Hurlhurst'srelentless heart for the cruel blow shewas about to deal him.

"I must begin at the time of the lawnfete," she said. "That morning a womanbegged to see me, sobbing so piteouslyI could not refuse her an audience. Nopower of words could portray the sadstory of suffering and wrong shepoured into my ears, of a niece

beautiful, young, passionate, and willfuland of her prayers and uselessexpostulations, and of a handsome,dissolute lover to whom the girl waspassionately attached, and ofelopements she had frustrated, alas!more than once. Ah! how shall I say it!the lover was not a marrying man."

Pluma stopped short, and hid her faceagain in her kerchief as if in utterconfusion.

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

"'Lend me money,' cried the woman,'that I may protect the girl by sendingher off to school at once. Kind lady,

she is young, like you, and I beg you onmy knees!' I gave the woman therequired amount, and the girl was takento school the very next day. But the endwas not there. The lover followed thegirl there must have been apreconcerted plan between them andon the morning after she had enteredschool she fled from it fled with herlover. That lover was Lester Stanwickgay, fascinating, perfidious Lesterwhom you know but too well. Can younot guess who the girl was, Rex "

The dark eyes regarding her werefrozen with horror, his white lipsmoved, but no sound issued fromthem. She leaned nearer to him, her

dark, perfumed hair swept across hisface as she whispered, with startlingeffect:

"The girl was Daisy Brooks, and she isat this moment in company with herlover! Heaven pity you, Rex; you mustlearn to forget her."

CHAPTER XI.

When Daisy Brooks opened her eyes,she found herself lying on a white bed,and in a strange apartment which shenever remembered having seen before.For one brief instant she quite

imagined the terrible ordeal throughwhich she had passed was but a dream.Then it all came back to her with crueldistinctness.

"Where am I " she cried, struggling upto a sitting posture, and putting backthe tangled golden hair from her face."How came I here Who saved me fromthe terrible dark water "

"I did," answered a young man, risingfrom his seat by the open window. "Isaved your life at the risk of my own.Look up into my face, Daisy, and see ifyou do not remember me."

She lifted her blue eyes to the dark,

handsome, smiling face before her. Yes,she had seen that face before, but shecould not remember where.

He laughed, disclosing his handsomewhite teeth.

"You can not guess, eh " he said. "Thenit is certainly evident I did not makemuch of an impression upon you. I amdisappointed. I will not keep you insuspense, however. We met atWhitestone Hall, on the night of thelawn fete, and my name is LesterStanwick."

Ah, she did remember him, standingbeneath a waving palm-tree, his bold,

dark eyes following her every motion,while she was waltzing with Rex.

He saw the flash of recognition in hereyes, and the blush that mantled herfair, sweet face.

"I am very grateful to you, sir, forsaving me. But won't you take mehome, please I don't want to go back toMadame Whitney's."

"Of course not," he said, with a twinklein his eyes, "when you left it in such aremarkable manner as running away."

"How did you know I ran away " askedDaisy, flushing hotly.

"Madame Whitney has advertised foryou," he responded, promptly.

Although he well knew what he utteredwas a deliberate falsehood, he merelyguessed the little wild bird had grownweary of the restraint, and had flownaway.

"Did she do that " asked Daisy,thoroughly alarmed, her great blue eyesdilating with fear. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick,what shall I do I do not want to goback. I would sooner die first."

"There is no occasion for you to doeither," he replied. "You are in good

hands. Stay here until the storm blowsover. In all probability the madame hassent detectives out in all directionssearching for you."

Daisy was so young, so unsuspecting,so artless, and knew so little of theways of the world or its intriguingpeople that she quite believed hisassertion.

"Oh, what shall I do " she sobbed,covering her face with her hands. "Oh,I must go back to Uncle John, and to to"

Stanwick had no idea she meant Rex.He took it for granted she meant John

Brooks and Septima.

"It is quite uncertain when JohnBrooks returns to Allendale," he said;"and I suppose you are aware his sisterhas also left the place gone, no oneknows whither the Brookses' cottageon the brow of the hill stands empty."

"Gone!" cried Daisy, catching herbreath swift and hard, "did you say, sirAunt Septima has gone no one lives inthe cottage " Poor Daisy quite believedshe was losing her senses.

"Yes," said Stanwick, smothering a low,malicious laugh, "that is what I said;but I am quite surprised that it is news

to you. You are all alone in the world,you see. Of course you could not goback to Allendale. You can do no betterthan stay in your present quarters for atleast a week or so, until you fullyrecover from your mad frolic on thewater and gain a little strength."

* * * * *

"Where am I " asked Daisy, "and howdid I get here and who lives here "

"One question at a time, if you please,"laughed Stanwick, gazing admiringly atthe beautiful, questioning, eager face.

"I suppose," he began, with provoking

coolness, "you have been filling thatlittle head of yours with romantic ideasof running away from school, andsailing far out to sea, and straight intothe arms of some handsome hero whowould save you, and would carry youoff to some castle, and turn out to be aprince in disguise! That's the way theyusually turn out, isn't it But you foundthe theory did not work very well inreal life, and your little romance camenear costing you your life eh, MissDaisy As for the second question, Irescued you, just in the nick of time, byjumping into the turbulent waves andbearing you out of harm's way andkeeping that little romantic head ofyours above water until the barge could

be stopped, and you were then broughton board. I recognized you at once," hecontinued; "and to prevent suspicionand inquiry, which would have beensure to follow, I claimed you as mywife! Do not be alarmed," he said, as asharp, horrified cry rose to the red lips."I simply did that in order to protectyou from being returned at once inbitter disgrace to Madame Whitney's.Not knowing what else to do with youwhen the boat landed, I brought youhere, and here you have been ever since,quite unconscious up to date."

"Was it last night you brought me here" asked Daisy.

"You are not good at guessing. Youhave 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 meagerly furnishedapartment. "As near as I canunderstand it, the house is occupied bythree grim old maids. Each looks to bethe twin of the other. This was the firstshelter I could find, and I had carriedyou all the way from the boat in myarms, and under the circumstances,

after much consulting, they at lastagreed to allow you to remain here.Now you have the whole story in anutshell."

"Why did they not send to Septima tocome to me " she asked presently.

"Because they thought you were withyour best protector your husband."

"Did you tell them that here, too "asked Daisy, growing white and ill witha dizzy horror. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, sendfor them at once, and tell them it is notso, or I must!" she added, desperately.

"You must do nothing of the kind, you

silly child. Do you suppose they wouldhave sheltered you for a single instantif they had not believed you were mywife You do not know the ways of theworld. Believe me, it was the onlycourse I could pursue, in that awkwarddilemma, without bringing disgrace anddetection upon you."

As if in answer to the question that wastrembling upon Daisy's lips, hecontinued:

"I am stopping at a boarding-placesome little distance from here. This isnot Baltimore, but a little station somesixty miles from there. When you arewell and strong you may go where you

please, although I frankly own thesituation is by no means an unpleasantone for me. I would be willing to stayhere always with you."

"Sir!" cried Daisy, flushing as red as theclimbing roses against the window, herblue eyes blazing up with sudden fire,"do you mean to insult me "

"By no means," responded LesterStanwick, eagerly. "Indeed, I respectand honor you too much for that. Why,I risked my life to save yours, andshielded your honor with my name.Had I been your husband in very truthI could not have done more."

Daisy covered her face with her hands.

"I thank you very much for saving me,"she sobbed, "but won't you please goaway now and leave me to myself "

Roue and villain as Lester Stanwick was,he could not help feeling touched bythe innocence and beauty of littleDaisy, and from that instant he lovedher with a wild, absorbing, passionatelove, and he made a vow, then andthere, that he would win her.

From their boyhood up Rex and Lesterhad been rivals. At college Rex hadcarried off the honors with flyingcolors. Pluma Hurlhurst, the wealthy

heiress, had chosen Rex in preference tohimself. He stood little chance withbright-eyed maidens compared withhandsome, careless, winning Rex Lyon.

Quite unobserved, he had witnessedthe meeting between Rex and Daisy atthe fountain, and how tenderly heclasped her in his arms as they waltzedtogether in the mellow light, to thedelicious strains of the "Blue Danube,"and knowing Rex as well as he did, heknew for the first time in life Rex'sheart was touched.

"It would be a glorious revenge,"Stanwick had muttered to himself, "if Icould win her from him." Then a

sordid motive of revenge aloneprompted him now he was beginningto experience the sweet thrillings ofawakened love himself. Yes, he hadlearned to love Daisy for her own sweetself.

He smiled as he thought of the lastwords Pluma Hurlhurst had said tohim: "Revenge is sweet, Lester, whenlove is turned to bitter hatred. Help meto drag Rex Lyon's pride as low as hehas this night dragged mine, and youshall have my hand as your reward. Myfather is an invalid he can not live muchlonger then you will be master ofWhitestone Hall." As he had walkeddown the broad gravel path, running

his eye over the vast plantationstretching afar on all sides, like a fieldof snow, as the moonlight fell upon thewaving cotton, he owned to himself itwas a fair domain well worth thewinning.

But as he stood there, gazing silentlydown upon little Daisy's face howstrange it was he would have given uptwenty such inheritances for the hopeof making sweet little Daisy Brooks hiswife.

It was well for Daisy Brooks he littledreamed of the great barrier which laybetween them, shutting him outcompletely from all thoughts of love in

Daisy's romantic heart.

CHAPTER XII.

"Please go away," sobbed Daisy. "Leaveme to myself, and I will get up."

"Very well," said Stanwick, involuntarilyraising her little white handscourteously to his lips; "and remember,I warn you, for your own sake, not todispute the assertion I have made thatyou are my wife."

"Why " asked Daisy, wistfully. "Theywill forgive me when I tell them how it

all came about."

"You do not know women's ways," hereplied. "They would hand you over atonce to the authorities; you wouldbring disgrace and ruin upon your ownhead, and bitter shame to John Brooks'sheart. I know him well enough tobelieve he would never forgive you. Onthe other hand, when you feel wellenough to depart, you can simply sayyou are going away with your husband.No one will think of detaining you;you will be free as the wind to gowhere you will. It will cost you but afew words. Remember, there areoccasions when it is necessary toprevaricate in order to prevent greater

evils this is one of them."

Daisy could not dispute this speciouslogic, and she suffered herself to bepersuaded against her will and betterjudgment. She was dreadfullyhomesick, poor little soul! and to goback to Allendale, to Rex, was the onewish of her heart. But would he claspher in his arms if a shadow of disgraceblotted her fair name She would goback to him and kneel at his feet, andtell him why she had left Mme.Whitney's. She certainly meant to tellhim of all that followed, and, with herlittle, warm cheek pressed close to his,ask him if she had done right.

At that moment the door of anadjoining room opened, and Lesterobserved the three ladies standing in arow in the door-way. He knew thatthree pairs of eyes were regarding himintently through as many pairs of blueglasses.

"Good-bye, my little wife," he said,raising his voice for their benefit; "I'moff now. I shall see you again to-morrow;" and, before Daisy had theleast idea of his intentions, he hadpressed a kiss upon her rosy lips andwas gone.

The three ladies quickly advanced tothe couch upon which Daisy reclined.

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

They wondered why the white face onthe pillow turned so pink, then fadedto a dead white, and why the tear-dropsstarted to her beautiful blue eyes.

"I was telling my sisters," pursued oneof the ladies, softly, "you were so youngto be married hardly more than a child.How old are you, my dear not morethan sixteen, I suppose "

"Sixteen and a few months," answeredDaisy.

"How long have you been married, mydear " questioned another of the sisters.

A great sob rose in Daisy's throat as sheremembered it was just a week that veryday since she had stood in the dim oldparlor at the rectory, while Rex claspedher hands, his handsome, smiling eyesgazing so lovingly down upon her,while the old minister spoke the wordsthat bound them for life to each other.It almost seemed to Daisy that longyears had intervened, she had passedthrough so much since then.

"Just a week to-day, madame," shemade answer.

"Why, you are a bride, then," they allchorused. "Ah! that accounts for yourhusband's great anxiety about you. Weall agreed we had never seen a husbandmore devoted!"

Daisy hid her face in the pillow. Shethought she would go mad upon beingso cruelly misunderstood. Oh! if shehad only dared throw herself into theirarms and sob out her heartaches ontheir bosoms. Yes, she was a bride, butthe most pitifully homesick, weary,disheartened little girl-bride that everthe sun shone on in the wide, wild

world.

They assisted Daisy to arise, brushingout her long, tangled, golden curls,declaring to one another the pretty littlecreature looked more like a merry, rosy-cheeked school-girl than a little bride-wife, in her pink-and-white dottedmuslin, which they had in themeantime done up for her with theirown hands.

They wondered, too, why she neverasked for her husband, and she lookedalmost ready to faint when they spokeof him.

"There seems to be something of a

mystery here," remarked one of thesisters when the trio were alone. "Ifthat child is a bride, she is certainly nota happy one. I do not like to judge afellow-creature Heaven forbid! but I amsorely afraid all is not right with her.Twice this afternoon, entering the roomquietly, I have found her lying facedownward on the sofa, crying as if herheart would break! I am sorelypuzzled!"

And the flame of suspicion oncelighted was not easily extinguished inthe hearts of the curious spinsters.

"'Won't you tell me your sorrow, mydear ' I said.

"'No, no; I dare not!' she replied.

"'Will you not confide in me, Mrs.Stanwick ' I asked.

"She started up wildly, throwing herarms about my neck.

"'Won't you please call me Daisy ' shesobbed, piteously; 'just Daisy nothingelse.'

"'Certainly, my dear, if you wish it,' Ireplied. 'There is one question I wouldlike to ask you, Daisy you have told meyour mother is dead '

"'Yes,' she said, leaning her golden headagainst the window, and watching thewhite clouds overhead in the blue sky'my poor, dear mother is dead!'

"'Then will you answer me truthfullythe question I am about to ask you,Daisy, remembering your mother up inheaven hears you.'

"She raised her blue eyes to mine.

"'I shall answer truthfully any questionyou may put to me,' she said; 'if if it isnot about Mr. Stanwick.'

"'It is about yourself, Daisy,' I said,gravely. 'Tell me truthfully, child, are

you really a wife '

"She caught her breath with a hard,gasping sound; but her blue eyes metmine unflinchingly.

"'Yes, madame, I am, in the sight ofGod and man; but I am such anunhappy one. I can not tell you why.My heart is breaking. I want to go backto 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 yetto come. The little creature drew fromher pocket a twenty-dollar bill.

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

"'Put your money back into yourpocket, Daisy,' I replied. 'Your husbandhas already paid your bill. He beggedme to accept it in advance on the nightyou came.'

"She gave a great start, and a flood ofhot color rushed over her face.

"'I I did not know,' she said, faintly,'how very good Mr. Stanwick has beento me.'"

The three sisters looked at one anotherin silent wonder over the rims of theirspectacles and shook their headsominously.

* * * * *

Dear reader, we must return at thisperiod to Rex poor, broken-heartedRex whom we left in the company ofPluma Hurlhurst in the spacious parlorof Whitestone Hall.

"Daisy Brooks is at this moment withLester Stanwick! You must learn toforget her, Rex," she repeated, slowly.

A low cry escaped from Rex's lips, andhe recoiled from her as though she hadstruck him a heavy blow. His heartseemed fairly stifled in his bosom, andhe trembled in every limb withrepressed excitement.

"Here is a letter from MadameWhitney," she continued. "Read it foryourself, Rex. You see, she says: 'Daisyfled. It has been since ascertained shewent to Elmwood, a station some sixtymiles from here, where she now is, atthe cottage of the Burton sisters, in

company with her lover. I shall notattempt to claim her her retributionmust come from another source.'"

The words seemed to stand out inletters of fire.

"Oh, my little love," he cried, "theremust be some terrible mistake! MyGod! my God! there must be somehorrible mistake some foul conspiracyagainst you, my little sweetheart, mydarling love!"

He rose to his feet with a deep-drawnsigh, his teeth shut close, his heartbeating with great strangling throbs ofpain. Strong and brave as Rex was, this

trouble was almost more than he couldbear.

"Where are you going, Rex " saidPluma, laying a detaining hand uponhis arm.

"I am going to Elmwood," he cried,bitterly, "to prove this accusation is acruel falsehood. Daisy has no lover; sheis as sweet and pure as Heaven itself! Iwas mad to doubt her for a singleinstant."

"Judge for yourself, Rex seeing isbelieving," said Pluma, maliciously, asmoldering vengeance burning in herflashing eyes, and a cold, cruel smile

flitting across her face, while shemurmured under her breath: "Go,fond, foolish lover; your fool's paradisewill be rudely shattered ay, your hopescrushed worse than mine are now, foryour lips can not wear a smile like minewhen your heart is breaking. Good-bye,Rex," she said, "and remember, in thehour when sorrow strikes you keenest,turn to me; my friendship is true, andshall never fail you."

Rex bowed coldly and turned away; hisheart was too sick for empty words, andthe heavy-hearted young man, whoslowly walked down the graveled pathaway from Whitestone Hall in themoonlight, was as little like the gay,

handsome Rex of one short week agoas could well be imagined.

There was the scent of roses andhoneysuckles in the soft wind; andsome sweet-voiced bird awakened fromsleep, and fancying it was day, swung toand fro amid the green foliage, fillingthe night with melody. The pitying starsshone down upon him from themoonlighted heavens; but the still,solemn beauty of the night was lostupon Rex. He regretted oh! so bitterlythat he had parted from his sweet littlegirl-bride, fearing his mother's scornfulanger, or through a sense of mistakenduty.

"Had they but known little Daisy is mywife, they would have known howimpossible was their accusation that shewas with Lester Stanwick."

He shuddered at the very thought ofsuch a possibility.

The thought of Daisy, his little girl-bride, being sent to school amused him.

"Poor little robin!" he murmured. "Nowonder she flew from her bondagewhen she found the cage-door open!How pleased the little gypsy will be tosee me!" he mused. "I will clasp thedear little runaway in my arms, andnever let her leave me again! Mother

could not help loving my little Daisy ifshe were once to see her, and sisterBirdie would take to her at once."

The next morning broke bright andclear; the sunshine drifted through thegreen foliage of the trees, and crimson-breasted robins sung their sweetestsongs in the swaying boughs of theblossoming magnolias; pansies andbuttercups gemmed the distant hill-slope, and nature's fountain a merry,babbling brook danced joyouslythrough the clover banks. No cloudwas in the fair, blue, smiling heavens;no voice of nature warned poor littleDaisy, as she stood at the open windowdrinking in the pure, sweet beauty of

the morning of the dark clouds whichwere gathering over her innocent head,and of the storm which was so soon toburst upon her in all its fury. Daisyturned away from the window with alittle sigh. She did not see a handsome,stalwart figure hurrying down the hill-side toward the cottage. How her heartwould have throbbed if she had onlyknown Rex (for it was he) was so nearher! With a strangely beating heart headvanced toward the little wicket gate,at which stood one of the sisters, busilyengaged pruning her rose-bushes.

"Can you tell me, madame, where I canfind the Misses Burton's cottage " heasked, courteously lifting his hat.

"This is the Burton cottage," sheanswered, "and I am Ruth Burton.What can I do for you "

"I would like to see Daisy Brooks, ifyou please. She is here, I believe " hesaid, questioningly. "May I come in "

Rex's handsome, boyish face andwinning smile won their way straight tothe old lady's heart at once.

"Perhaps you are the young lady'sbrother, sir There is evidently somemistake, however, as the young lady'sname is Stanwick Daisy Stanwick. Herhusband, Lester Stanwick I believe that

is the name is also in Elmwood."

All the color died out of Rex'shandsome face and the light from hisbrown eyes. He leaned heavily againstthe gate-post. The words seemedshrieked on the air and muttered on thebreeze.

"Daisy is not his wife! My God,madame!" he cried, hoarsely, "she couldnot be!"

"It is very true," replied the old lady,softly. "I have her own words for it.There may be some mistake, as yousay," she said, soothingly, noting thedeath-like despair that settled over the

noble face. "She is a pretty, fair,winsome little creature, blue-eyed, andcurling golden hair, and lives atAllendale. She is certainly married. Iwill call her. She shall tell you so herself.Daisy Mrs. Stanwick come here, dear,"she called.

"I am coming, Miss Ruth," answered asweet, bird-like voice, which piercedpoor Rex's heart to the very core as agirlish little figure bounded through theopen door-way, out into the brilliantsunshine.

"God pity me!" cried Rex, staggeringforward. "It is Daisy my wife!"

CHAPTER XIII.

Rex had hoped against hope.

"Daisy!" he cried, holding out his armsto her with a yearning, passionate cry."My God! tell me it is false you are nothere with Stanwick or I shall go mad!Daisy, my dear little sweetheart, my littlelove, why don't you speak " he cried,clasping her close to his heart andcovering her face and hair and handswith passionate, rapturous kisses.

Daisy struggled out of his embrace,with a low, broken sob, flinging herself

on her knees at his feet with a sharp cry.

"Daisy," said the old lady, bending overher and smoothing back the goldenhair from the lovely anguished face,"tell him the truth, dear. You are herewith Mr. Stanwick; is it not so "

The sudden weight of sorrow that hadfallen upon poor, hapless Daisy seemedto paralyze her very senses. Thesunshine seemed blotted out, and thelight of heaven to grow dark aroundher.

"Yes," she cried, despairingly; and italmost seemed to Daisy another voicehad spoken with her lips.

"This Mr. Stanwick claims to be yourhusband " asked the old lady, solemnly.

"Yes," she cried out again, in agony,"but, Rex, I I "

The words died away on her white lips,and the sound died away in her throat.She saw him recoil from her with alook of white, frozen horror on hisface which gave place to stern, bitterwrath. Slowly and sadly he put herclinging arms away from him, foldinghis arms across his breast with thatterrible look upon his face such as ahero's face wears when he has heard,unflinchingly, his death sentence the

calm of terrible despair.

"Daisy," he said, proudly, "I havetrusted you blindly, for I loved youmadly, passionately. I would as soonbelieve the fair smiling heavens thatbend above us false as you whom Iloved so madly and so well. I was madto bind you with such cruel, irksomebonds when your heart was not minebut another's. My dream of love isshattered now. You have broken myheart and ruined and blighted my life.God forgive you, Daisy, for I never can!I give you back your freedom; I releaseyou from your vows; I can not curseyou I have loved you too well for that; Icast you from my heart as I cast you

from my life; farewell, Daisy farewellforever!"

She tried to speak, but her tonguecleaved to the roof of her mouth. Oh,pitying Heaven, if she could only havecried out to you and the angels to bearwitness and proclaim her innocence!The strength to move hand or footseemed suddenly to have left her. Shetried hard, oh! so hard, to speak, but nosound issued from her white lips. Shefelt as one in a horrible trance, fearfully,terribly conscious of all that transpiredaround her, yet denied the power tomove even a muscle to defend herself.

"Have you anything to say to me, Daisy

" he asked, mournfully, turning fromher to depart.

The woful, terrified gaze of the blueeyes deepened pitifully, but she spokeno word, and Rex turned from herturned from the girl-bride whom heloved so madly, with a bursting, brokenheart, more bitter to bear than deathitself left her alone with the pityingsunlight falling upon her golden hair,and her white face turned up to heaven,silently praying to God that she mightdie then and there.

Oh, Father above, pity her! She had nomother's gentle voice to guide her, nofather's strong breast to weep upon, no

sister's soothing presence. She was soyoung and so pitifully lonely, and Rexhad drifted out of her life forever,believing her oh, bitterest of thoughts!believing her false and sinful.

Poor little Daisy was ignorant of theways of the world; but a dimrealization of the full import of theterrible accusation brought against herforced its way to her troubled brain.

She only realized Rex her darling Rex,had gone out of her life forever.

Daisy flung herself face downward inthe long, cool, waving green grasswhere Rex had left her.

"Daisy," called Miss Burton, softly, "it isall over; come into the house, my dear."

But she turned from her with ashuddering gasp.

"In the name of pity, leave me tomyself," she sobbed; "it is the greatestkindness you can do me."

And the poor old lady who hadwrought so much sorrow unwittinglyin those two severed lives, walkedslowly back to the cottage, with tears inher eyes, strongly impressed there mustbe some dark mystery in the younggirl's life who was sobbing her heart

out in the green grass yonder; and shedid just what almost any other personwould have done under the samecircumstances sent immediately forLester Stanwick. He answered thesummons at once, listening withintense interest while the aged spinsterbriefly related all that had transpired;but through oversight or excitement shequite forgot to mention Rex had calledDaisy his wife.

"Curse him!" he muttered, under hisbreath, "I I believe the girl actually caresfor him."

Then he went out to Daisy, lying so stilland lifeless among the pink clover and

waving grass.

Poor Daisy! Poor, desperate, lonely,struggling child! All this cruel load ofsorrow, crushing her girlish heart, andblighting her young life, and she soinnocent, so entirely blameless, yet sucha plaything of fate.

"Daisy," he said, bending over her andlifting the slight form in his arms, "theytell me some one has been troublingyou. Who has dared annoy you Trust inme, Daisy. What is the matter "

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

"I want to die," she sobbed. "Oh, whydid you not leave me to die in the darkwater it was so cruel of you to saveme."

"Do you want to know why I risked mylife to save you, Daisy Does not myevery word and glance tell you why "The bold glance in his eyes spokevolumes. "Have you not guessed that Ilove you, Daisy "

"Oh, please do not talk to me in thatway, Mr. Stanwick," she cried, startingto her feet in wild alarm. "Indeed youmust not," she stammered.

"Why not " he demanded, a merciless

smile stirring beneath his heavymustache. "I consider that you belongto me. I mean to make you my wife invery truth."

Daisy threw up her hands in a gestureof terror heart-breaking to see,shrinking away from him in quiveringhorror, her sweet face ashen pale.

"Oh, go away, go away!" she cried out."I am growing afraid of you. I couldnever marry you, and I would not if Icould. I shall always be grateful to youfor what you have done for me, but,oh, go away, and leave me now, for mytrouble is greater than I can bear!"

"You would not if you could," herepeated, coolly, smiling so strangely herblood seemed to change to ice in herveins. "I thank you sincerely for yourappreciation of me. I did not dream,however, your aversion to me was sodeeply rooted. That makes littledifference, however. I shall make youmy wife this very day all the same;business, urgent business, calls me awayfrom Elmwood to-day. I shall take youwith me as my wife."

She heard the cruel words like one in adream.

"Rex! Rex!" she sobbed, under herbreath. Suddenly she remembered Rex

had left her she was never to look uponhis face again. He had left her to thecold mercies of a cruel world. Poorlittle Daisy the unhappy, heart-brokengirl-bride sat there wondering what elsecould happen to her. "God has shut meout from His mercy," she cried; "there isnothing for me to do but to die."

"I am a desperate man, Daisy," pursuedStanwick, slowly. "My will is my law.The treatment you receive at my handsdepends entirely upon yourself youwill not dare defy me!" His eyes fairlyglowed with a strange fire that appalledher as she met his passionate glance.

Then Daisy lifted up her golden head

with the first defiance she had evershown, the deathly pallor deepening onher fair, sweet, flower-like face, and thelook of a hunted deer at bay in thebeautiful velvety agonized eyes, as sheanswered:

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

He laughed mockingly.

"I shall leave you for the present, mylittle sweetheart," he said, "but I shallreturn in exactly fifteen minutes. Holdyourself in readiness to receive methen; I shall not come alone, but bringwith me 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 lanestands a trusty sentinel to see that youdo not leave this house. You have beenguarded thus since you entered thishouse; knowing your proclivity toescape impending difficulties, I haveprepared accordingly. You can notescape your fate, my little wild flower!"

"No minister would marry an unwillingbride he could not. I would flingmyself at his feet and tell him all, cryingout I was I was "

"You will do nothing of the kind," he

interrupted, a hard, resolute looksettling on his face. "I would havepreferred winning you by fair means, ifpossible; if you make it impossible Ishall be forced to a desperate measure. Ihad not intended adopting suchstringent measures, except in an extremecase. Permit me to explain what I shalldo to prevent you from making theslightest outcry." As he spoke he drewfrom his pocket a small revolver heavilyinlaid with pearl and silver. "I shallsimply hold this toy to your prettyforehead to prevent a scene. Theminister will be none the wiser he isblind Do you 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, "itis no childish whim. Oh, Mr. Stanwick,I want to be grateful to you why willyou torture me until I hate you "

"I will marry you this very day, DaisyBrooks, whether you hate me or loveme. I have done my best to gain yourlove. It will come in time; I can wait forit."

"You will never make me love you,"cried Daisy, covering her face with herhands; "do not hope it and the moreyou talk to me the less I like you. I wishyou would go away."

"I shall not despair," said Stanwick,with a confident smile. "I like thingswhich I find it hard to obtain that wasalways one of my characteristics and Inever liked you so well as I like younow, in your defiant anger, and feelmore determined than ever to makeyou my own."

Suddenly a new thought occurred tohim as he was about to turn from her.

"Why, how stupid of me!" he cried. "Icould not bring the parson here, forthey think you my wife already. I mustchange my plan materially by taking youto the parsonage. We can go from here

directly to the station. I shall return inexactly fifteen minutes with aconveyance. Remember, I warn you tomake no outcry for protection in themeantime. If you do I shall say youinherited your mother's malady. I amwell acquainted with your history, yousee." He kissed his finger-tips to hercarelessly. "Au revoir, my love, but notfarewell," he said, lightly, "until we meetto be parted nevermore," and, with aquick, springy step Lester Stanwickwalked rapidly down the clover-bordered path on his fatal errand.

In the distance the little babbling brooksung to her of peace and rest beneathits curling, limpid waters.

"Oh, mother, mother," she cried, "whatwas the dark sorrow that tortured yourpoor brain, till it drove you mad ay,mad ending in death and despair Whydid you leave your little Daisy here tosuffer so I feel such a throbbing in myown poor brain but I must flyanywhere, anywhere, to escape this newsorrow. God has forgotten me." Shetook one step forward in a blind,groping, uncertain way. "My last ray ofhope has died out," she cried as thememory of his cruel words cameslowly back to her, so mockinglyuttered "the minister would be nonethe wiser he is blind."

CHAPTER XIV.

When Lester Stanwick returned to thecottage he found that quite anunexpected turn of events hadtranspired. Miss Burton had gone outto Daisy she lay so still and lifeless inthe long green grass.

"Heaven bless me!" she cried, in alarm,raising her voice to a pitch that broughtboth of the sisters quickly to her side."Matilda, go at once and fetch thedoctor. See, this child is ill, her cheeksare burning scarlet and her eyes are likestars."

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

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

The keen eyes of the doctor, however,had observed the figure lying on thegrass and the frantic movements of thethree old ladies bending over it, anddrew rein of his own accord to seewhat was the matter.

He drew back with a cry of surprise as

his eyes rested on the beautiful flushedface of the young girl lying among theblue harebells at his feet.

"I am afraid this is a serious case," hesaid, thoughtfully, placing his cool handon her burning forehead; "the child hasall the symptoms of brain fever in itsworst form, brought on probablythrough some great excitement." Thethree ladies looked at one anothermeaningly. "She must be taken into thehouse and put to bed at once," hecontinued, authoritatively, lifting theslight figure in his strong arms, andgazing pityingly down upon thebeautiful flushed face framed in itssheen of golden hair resting against his

broad shoulders.

The doctor was young and unmarriedand impressible; and the strangestsensation he had ever experiencedthrilled through his heart as the blue,flaring eyes met his and the tremblingred lips incoherently beseeched him tosave her, hide her somewhere,anywhere, before the fifteen minuteswere up.

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

As Daisy's eyes fell upon Stanwick'sface she uttered a piteous little cry:

"Save me from him save me!" she said,hysterically, growing rapidly soalarmingly worse that Stanwick wasforced to leave the room, motioning thedoctor to follow him into the hall.

"The young lady is my wife," he said,with unflinching assurance, uttering thecruel falsehood, "and we intend leavingElmwood to-day. I am in anuncomfortable dilemma. I must go, yetI can not leave my my wife. She mustbe removed, doctor; can you not helpme to arrange it in some way "

"No, sir," cried the doctor, emphatically;"she can not be removed. As her

physician, I certainly would not give myconsent to such a proceeding; her verylife would pay the forfeit."

For a few moments Lester Stanwickpaced up and down the hall lost indeep thought; his lips were firmly set,and there was a determined gleam inhis restless black eyes. Suddenly hestopped short directly before thedoctor, who stood regarding him withno very agreeable expression in hishonest gray eyes.

"How long will it be before the crisis ispast that is, how long will it be beforeshe is able to be removed "

"Not under three weeks," replied thedoctor, determinedly.

"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, sharply."Why, I shall have to " He bit his lipsavagely, as if he had been on the pointof disclosing some guarded secret."Fate is against me," he said, "in moreways than one; these things can not beavoided, I suppose. Well, doctor, as Iam forced to leave to-day I shall leaveher in your charge. I will return inexactly 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 thedoctor, wondering at the strange,satisfied smile that flitted like a meteorover his companion's face for one briefinstant.

"This will defray her expenses in themeantime," he said, putting a few crispbank-notes into the doctor's hand. "Seethat she has every luxury."

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

"I should advise you to remain awayfor the present," he said, "your presenceproduces such an unpleasant effectupon her. Wait until she sleeps."

"I have often thought it so strangepeople in delirium shrink so from thosethey love best; I can not understand it,"said Stanwick, with an odd, forcedlaugh. "As you are the doctor, Isuppose your orders must be obeyed,however. If the fever should happen totake an unfavorable turn in themeantime, please drop a line to myaddress, 'care of Miss Pluma Hurlhurst,of Whitestone Hall, Allendale,'" hesaid, extending his card. "It will beforwarded to me promptly, and I can

come on at once."

Again the doctor nodded, putting thecard safely away in his wallet, and soonafter Lester Stanwick took hisdeparture, roundly cursing his luck, yetcongratulating himself upon the factthat Daisy could not leave Elmwood hecould rest content on that score.

Meanwhile the three venerable sistersand the young doctor were watchinganxiously at Daisy's bedside.

"Oh, my poor little dear my pretty littledear!" sobbed Ruth, caressing theburning little hands that clung to her sotightly.

"Won't you hide me " pleaded Daisy,laying her hot cheek against thewrinkled hand that held hers. "Hideme, please, just as if I were your ownchild; I have no mother, you know."

"God help the pretty, innocent darling!"cried the doctor, turning hastily away tohide the suspicious moisture thatgathered in his eyes. "No one is goingto harm you, little one," he said,soothingly; "no one shall annoy you."

"Was it so great a sin He would not letme explain. He has gone out of mylife!" she wailed, pathetically, puttingback the golden rings of hair from her

flushed face. "Rex! Rex!" she sobbed,incoherently, "I shall die or, worse, Ishall go mad, if you do not come backto me!"

The three ladies looked at one anotherquestioningly, in alarm.

"You must not mind the strangeravings of a person in delirium," saidthe doctor, curtly; "they are liable toimagine and say all sorts of nonsense.Pay no attention to what she says, mydear ladies; don't disturb her withquestions. That poor little brain needsabsolute rest; every nerve seems to havebeen strained to its utmost."

After leaving the proper medicines andgiving minute instructions as to howand when it should be administered,Dr. West took his departure, with astrange, vague uneasiness at his heart.

"Pshaw!" he muttered to himself, as hedrove briskly along the shadowy road,yet seeing none of its beauty, "howstrange it is these young girls will fall inlove and marry such fellows as that!" hemused. "There is something about hisface that I don't like; he is a scoundrel,and I'll bet my life on it!"

The doctor brought his fist down onhis knee with such a resounding blowthat poor old Dobbin broke into a

gallop. But, drive as fast he would, hecould not forget the sweet, childish facethat had taken such a strong hold uponhis fancy. The trembling red lips andpleading blue eyes haunted him all themorning, as though they held somesecret they would fain have whispered.

All the night long Daisy clung to thehands that held hers, begging andpraying her not to leave her alone, untilthe poor old lady was quite overcomeby the fatigue of continued watchingbeside her couch. Rest or sleep seemedto have fled from Daisy's bright, restlesseyes.

"Don't go away," she cried; "everybody

goes away. I do not belong to any one. Iam all all alone," she would sigh,drearily.

Again she fancied she was with Rex,standing beneath the magnolia boughsin the sunshine; again, she was clingingto his arm while some cruel womaninsulted her sobbing pitifully upon hisbreast; again, she was parting from himat the gate, asking him if what they haddone was right; then she was in someschool-room, begging piteously forsome cruel letter; then out on the wavesin the storm and the on-comingdarkness of night.

The sisters relieved one another at

regular intervals. They had ceased tolisten to her pathetic little appeals forhelp, or the wild cries of agony thatburst from the red feverish lips as shestarted up from her slumbers withstifled sobs, moaning out that the timewas flying; that she must escapeanywhere, anywhere, while there werestill fifteen minutes left her.

She never once mentioned Stanwick'sname, or Septima's, but calledincessantly for Rex and poor old UncleJohn.

"Who in the world do you suppose Rexis " said Matilda, thoughtfully. "Thatname is continually on her lips the last

word she utters when she closes hereyes, the first word to cross her lipswhen she awakes. That must certainlybe the handsome young fellow she metat the gate. If he is Rex I do notwonder the poor child loved him so.He was the handsomest, most noble-looking, frank-faced young man I haveever seen; and he took on in a way thatmade me actually cry when I told himshe was married. He would not believeit, until I called the child and she toldhim herself it was the truth. I was sorryfrom the bottom of my heart thatyoung fellow had not won her insteadof this Stanwick, they were so suited toeach other."

"Ah," said Ruth, after a moment'spause, "I think I have the key to thismystery. She loves this handsome Rex,that is evident; perhaps they have had alovers' quarrel, and she has married thisone on the spur of the momentthrough pique. Oh, the pretty littledear!" sighed Ruth. "I hope she willnever rue it."

CHAPTER XV.

Slowly the days came and went for thenext fortnight. The crisis had passed,and Dr. West said she would soonrecover. The beautiful, long, golden

hair had been shorn from the prettylittle head, and the rose-bloom haddied out of the pretty cheeks, but thebright, restless light never left thebeautiful blue eyes otherwise there wasbut little change in Daisy.

It had been just two weeks thatmorning, they told her, as she openedher eyes to consciousness, since she hadfirst been stricken down.

"And I have been here ever since " sheinquired, wonderingly.

"Yes, my dear," replied Ruth Burton,softly patting the thin white cheeks; "ofcourse you have been here ever since. I

am afraid we are going to lose yousoon, however. We have received aletter from your husband, saying he willbe here some time to-morrow. Shallyou be pleased to see him, dear "

In one single instant all the dim,horrible past rushed back to Daisy'smind. She remembered flinging herselfdown in the clover-scented grass, andthe world growing dark around her, asthe terrible words of Stanwick rang inher ears he would be back in just fifteenminutes to claim her.

Ah, bonny little Daisy, tossing on yourpillow, babbling empty nothings, betterwould it have been for you, perhaps, if

you had dropped the weary burden ofyour life into the kindly arms of deaththen and there than to struggle onwardinto 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 placedthe letter he had written in Daisy'shands. Like one in a terrible dream,Daisy read it quite through to the end."You see, he says he incloses fiftydollars extra for you, dear. I have placedit with the twenty safe in your littlepurse."

"Oh, Miss Ruth, you are so very kind to

me. I shall never forget how good youhave all been to me," said Daisy, softly,watching the three peaceful-faced oldladies, who had drawn their rocking-chairs, as was their custom, all in a row,and sat quietly knitting in the sunshine,the gentle click of their needles fallingsoothingly upon Daisy's poor, tiredbrain.

"We shall miss you sadly when you go,"said Ruth, knitting away vigorously."You have been like a ray of sunshinein this gloomy old house. We have alllearned to love you very dearly."

"You love me " repeated Daisy,wonderingly. "I was beginning to

believe every one hated me in the wholeworld, every one has been so bitter andso cruel with me, except poor oldUncle John. I often wonder why Godlets me live what am I to do with mylife! Mariana in the moated grange, wasnot more to be pitied than I. Deathrelieved her, but I am left to struggleon."

"Heaven hear her!" cried Ruth. "Onesuffers a great deal to lose all interest inlife. You are so young, dear, you couldnot have suffered much."

"I have lost all I hold dear in life," sheanswered, pathetically, lifting herbeautiful, childish blue eyes toward the

white fleecy clouds tinted by the settingsun.

Their hearts ached for the pretty, lonelylittle creature. They believed she wasthinking of her mother. So she was andof Rex, the handsome young husbandwhom she so madly idolized in herworshipful childish fashion, who wasworse than dead to her the husbandwho should have believed in her honorand purity, though the world had criedout to him that she was false. He hadthrust aside all possibility of herwriting to him; cast her out from hislife; left her to be persecuted beyond allendurance; bound by a vow she darenot break to keep her marriage with

Rex a secret. Though he was more cruelthan death, she loved Rex with adevotion that never faltered.

Daisy lay there, thinking of it all, whilethe soft, golden sunlight died out ofthe sky, and the deep dusk of twilightcrept softly on.

Then the old ladies arose from theirchairs, folded their knitting, and put itaway. Dusk was their hour for retiring.

They were discussing which one shouldsit up with Daisy, when she summonedthem all to her bedside.

"I want you all to go to bed and never

mind me," coaxed Daisy, with a strangelight in her eyes. "Take a good sleep, asI am going to do. I shall be very happyto-morrow happier than I have everbeen before!"

She clasped her white arms about theirnecks in turn, clinging to them, andsobbing as though she was loath topart with them.

Ruth's hand she held last and longest.

"Please kiss me again," she sobbed."Clasp your arms tight around me, andsay 'Good-night, Daisy.' It will be sonice to dream about."

With a cheery laugh the old ladylovingly complied with her request.

"You must close those bright little eyesof yours, and drift quickly into theLand of Nod, or there will be no rosesin these cheeks to-morrow. Good-night, my pretty little dear!"

"Good-night, dear, kind Ruth!" sighedDaisy.

And she watched the old lady withwistful, hungry eyes as she picked upher shaded night-lamp, that threw sucha soft, sweet radiance over her agedface, as she quietly quitted the room.

A sudden change came over Daisy'sface as the sound of her footsteps diedaway in the hall.

"Oh, God! help me!" she cried,piteously, struggling to her feet. "I mustbe far away from here when daylightbreaks."

She was so weak she almost fell backon her bed again when she attemptedto rise. The thought of the morrow lentstrength to her flagging energies. Astrange mist seemed rising before her.Twice she seemed near fainting, but herindomitable courage kept her fromsinking, as she thought of what themorrow would have in store for her.

Quietly she counted over the little storein her purse by the moon's rays.

"Seventy dollars! Oh, I could never useall that in my life!" she cried. "Besides, Icould never touch one cent ofStanwick's money. It would burn myfingers I am sure it would!"

Folding the bill carefully in two sheplaced it beneath her little snowyruffled pillow. Then catching up thethick, dark shawl which lay on anadjacent table, she wrapped it quicklyabout her. She opened the door leadingout into the hall, and listened. All wasstill solemnly still.

Daisy crept softly down the stairs, andout into the quiet beauty of the still,summer night.

"Rex," she wailed, softly, "perhapswhen I am dead you will feel sorry forpoor little Daisy, and some one may tellyou how you have wronged me in yourthoughts, but you would not let me tellyou how it happened!"

In the distance she saw the shimmer ofwater lying white and still under themoon's rays, tipped by the silvery lightof the stars.

"No, not that way," she cried, with a

shudder; "some one might save me, andI want to die!"

In the distance the red and coloredgleaming lights of an apothecary's shopcaught her gaze.

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

She drew the shawl closer about her,pressing on as rapidly as her feeble littlefeet would carry her. How weak shewas when she turned the knob andentered the very lights seemed dancingaround her.

A small, keen-eyed, shrewd little man

stepped briskly forward to wait uponher. He started back in horror at theutter despair and woe in the beautifulyoung face that was turned for amoment toward him, beautiful in all itspallor as a statue, with a crown ofgolden hair such as pictures of angelswear encircling the perfect head.

"What can I do for you, miss " queriedthe apothecary, gazing searchingly intothe beautiful dreamy blue eyes raisedup to his and wondering who shecould possibly be.

"I wish to purchase some laudanum,"Daisy faltered. "I wish it to relieve apain which is greater than I can bear."

"Toothache, most probably " intimatedthe brisk little doctor. "I know what itis. Lord bless you! I've had it until Ithought I should jump through theroof. Laudanum's a first-class thing, butI can tell you of something better jerk'em out, that's my recipe," he said, withan odd little smile. "Of course everyone to their notion, and if you saylaudanum and nothing else why it'slaudanum you shall have; butremember it's powerful. Why, ten dropsof it would cause death."

"How many drops did you say " askedDaisy, bending forward eagerly. "I Iwant to be careful in taking it."

"Ten drops, I said, would poison awhole family, and twenty a regiment.You must use it very carefully, miss.Remember I have warned you," he said,handing her the little bottle filled with adark liquid and labeled conspicuously,"Laudanum a poison."

"Please give me my change quickly," shesaid, a strange, deadly sickness creepingover her.

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

Daisy quite failed to notice that he

returned her the full amount she hadpaid him in his eagerness to oblige her,and he went happily back tocompounding his drugs in the rear partof the shop, quite unconscious he wasout the price of the laudanum.

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

Meanwhile Daisy struggled on, claspingher treasure close to her throbbingheart. She remembered Ruth hadpointed out an old shaft to her fromher window; it had been unused many

years, she had said.

"The old shaft shall be my tomb," shesaid; "no one will think of looking forme there."

Poor little Daisy unhappy girl-bride, letHeaven not judge her harshly she wassorely tried.

"Mother, mother!" she sobbed, in a dry,choking voice, "I can not live anylonger. I am not taking the life Godgave me, I am only returning it to Him.This is the only crime I have evercommitted, mother, and man will forgetit, and God will forgive me. You mustplead for me, angel-mother. Good-bye,

dear, kind Uncle John, your love neverfailed me, and Rex oh, Rex whom Ilove best of all, you will not know howI loved you. Oh, my love my lost love Ishall watch over you up there!" shemoaned, "and come to you in yourdreams! Good-bye, Rex, my love, myhusband!" she sobbed, holding the fatalliquid to her parched lips.

The deep yawning chasm lay at her feet.Ten ay, eleven drops she hastilyswallowed. Then with one last piteousappeal to Heaven for forgiveness, poor,helpless little Daisy closed her eyes andsprung into the air.

CHAPTER XVI.

A strong hand drew Daisy quickly back.

"Rash child! What is this that youwould do " cried an eager, earnestvoice, and, turning quickly about,speechless with fright, Daisy met thestern eyes of the apothecary bentsearchingly, inquiringly upon her.

"It means that I am tired of life," shereplied, desperately. "My life is so fullof sadness it will be no sorrow to leaveit. I wanted to rest quietly down there,but you have held me back; it is uselessto attempt to save me now. I have

already swallowed a portion of thelaudanum. Death must come to relieveme soon. It would be better to let medie down there where no one couldhave looked upon my face again."

"I had no intention to let you die soeasily," said the apothecary, softly. "Iread your thoughts too plainly for that.I did not give you laudanum, but aharmless mixture instead, and followedyou to see if my surmise was correct.You are young and fair surely life couldnot have lost all hope and sunshine foryou "

"You do not know all," said Daisy,wearily, "or you would not have held

me back. I do not know of another lifeso utterly hopeless as my own."

The good man looked at the sweet,innocent, beautiful face, upon whichthe starlight fell, quite bewildered andthoughtful.

"I should like to know what yourtrouble is," he said, gently.

"I could tell you only one half of it,"she replied, wearily. "I have sufferedmuch, and yet through no fault of myown. I am cast off, deserted,condemned to a loveless, joyless life; myheart is broken; there is nothing left mebut to die. I repeat that it is a sad fate."

"It is indeed," replied the apothecary,gravely. "Yet, alas! not an uncommonone. Are you quite sure that nothingcan remedy it "

"Quite sure," replied Daisy, hopelessly."My doom is fixed; and no matter howlong I live, or how long he lives, it cannever be altered."

The apothecary was uncomfortablewithout knowing why, haunted by avague, miserable suspicion, which poorDaisy's words secretly corroborated; yetit seemed almost a sin to harbor onesuspicion against the purity of theartless little creature before him. He

looked into the fresh young face. Therewas no cloud on it, no guilt laybrooding in the clear, truthful blue eyes.He never dreamed little Daisy was awife. "Why did he not love her " wasthe query the apothecary asked himselfover and over again; "she is so young,so loving, and so fair. He has cast heroff, this man to whom she has giventhe passionate love of her youngheart."

"You see you did wrong to hold meback," she said, gently. "How am I tolive and bear this sorrow that has comeupon 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 onefrom beneath whose feet the bank ofsafety has been withdrawn. Hope wasdead, and the past a blank.

"No matter what your past has been,my poor child, you must rememberthere is a future. Take up the burdenagain, and bear it nobly; go back toyour home, and commence life anew."

"I have no home and no friends," shesighed, hopelessly.

"Poor child," he said, pityingly, "is it asbad as that "

A sudden idea seemed to occur to him.

"You are a perfect stranger to me," hesaid, "but I believe you to be anhonorable girl, and I should like tobefriend you, as I would pray Heavento befriend a daughter of mine if shewere similarly situated. If I should putyou in a way of obtaining your ownliving as companion to an elderly ladyin a distant city, would you be willing totake up the tangled threads of your lifeagain, and wait patiently until God sawfit to call you that is, you would neverattempt to take your life into your ownhands again " he asked, slowly."Remember, such an act is murder, anda murderer can not enter the kingdom

of heaven."

He never forgot the startled, frightenedglance that swept over the beautifulface, plainly discernible in the whitemoonlight, nor the quiver of the sweet,tremulous voice as Daisy answered:

"I think God must have intended me tolive, or He would not have sent youhere to save me," she answered,impulsively. "Twice I have been neardeath, and each time I have beenrescued. I never attempted to take myown life but this once. I shall try andaccept my fate and live out my wearylife."

"Bravely spoken, my noble girl," repliedher rescuer, heartily.

"I must go far away from here,though," she continued, shuddering; "Iam sorely persecuted here."

The old man listened gravely to herdisconnected, incoherent words,drawing but one conclusion from them"the lover who had cast her off waspursuing the child, as her relentless foe,to the very verge of death and despair."

"It is my sister who wants acompanion," he said. "She lives in theSouth in Florida. Do you think youwould like to go as far away as that "

"Yes," said Daisy, mechanically. "Ishould like to go to the furthest end ofthe world. It does not matter muchwhere I go!"

How little she knew where fate wasdrifting her! Rex had not told her hishome was in Florida; he meant to tellher that on the morning he was to havemet her.

"It will be a long, wearisome journeyfor you to undertake, still I feel sureyou are brave enough to accomplish itin safety."

"I thank you very much for your

confidence in me, sir," said Daisy,simply.

"Tut, tut, child!" exclaimed the old man,brusquely. "That innocent little face ofyours ought to be a passport to anyone's confidence. I don't think there'sany doubt but what you will get onfamously with Maria that's my sisterMrs. Glenn but she's got threedaughters that would put an angel'stemper on edge. They're my niecesmore's the pity, for they are regularTartars. Mrs. Glenn sent for mydaughter Alice to come down there;but, Lord bless you, I wouldn't daresend her! There would be a ragingquarrel before twenty-four hours! My

Alice has got a temper of her own. But,pshaw! I ought not to frighten you, mydear; they could not help but love you."

And thus it was Daisy's fate wasunchangeably settled for her.

"There is one thing I would like you topromise me," she said, timidly, "andthat is never to divulge my whereaboutsto any one who might come in searchof me. I must remain dead to the worldforever; I shall never take up the old lifeagain. They must believe me dead."

Argument and persuasion alike wereuseless; and, sorely troubled at heart,the apothecary reluctantly consented.

Poor little Daisy impulsively caught himby both hands, and gratefully sobbedout her thanks.

The arrangements were sooncompleted, and before the gray dawnpierced the darkness of the eastern skypoor little Daisy was whirling rapidlyaway from Elmwood.

The consternation and excitementwhich prevailed at the Burton Cottagewhen Daisy's absence was discoveredcan better be imagined than described;or the intense anger of Stanwick uponfinding Daisy had eluded him.

"Checkmated!" he cried, white to the

very lips. "But she shall not escape me;she shall suffer for this freak. I am not aman to be trifled with. She can nothave gone far," he assured himself. "Inall probability she has left Elmwood;but if by rail or by water I can easilyrecapture my pretty bird. Ah, DaisyBrooks!" he muttered, "you can not flyaway from your fate; it will overtakeyou sooner or later."

Some hours after Stanwick had left thecottage, an old man toiled wearily upthe grass-grown path.

"Oh, poor little Daisy," he said, wipingthe tears from his eyes with his old redand white cotton kerchief; "no matter

what you have done I will take youback to my heart that I will!"

He clutched the letter Mme. Whitneyhad written him close in his toil-hardened hand. The letter simply toldhim Daisy had fled from the seminary,and she had every reason to believe shewas now in Elmwood. He had receivedthe letter while in New York, andhastily proceeded to Elmwood, thestation indicated, at once, withoutstopping over at Allendale to acquaintSeptima with the news.

"She shall never be sent off to schoolagain," he commented; "but she shallstop at home. Poor little pet, she was

always as happy as the day was long;she sha'n't have book-learning if shedon't want it. I am too hard, I s'pose,with the child in sending her offamong these primpy city gals, with theirflounces and furbelows, with only threeplain muslin frocks. The dickens flyaway with the book-learnin'; I like herall the better just as she is, bless herdear little heart! I'm after little DaisyBrooks," he said, bowing to the ladieswho met him at the door. "I heard shewas here run away from school, yousee, ma'am but I'll forgive the littlegypsy. Tell her old Uncle John is here.She'll be powerful glad to see me."

Slowly and gently they broke to him the

cruel story. How the dark, handsomestranger had brought her there in thestorm and the night; and they could notrefuse her shelter; the gentlemanclaimed her to be his wife; of herillness which culminated in herdisappearance.

They never forgot the white, set faceturned toward them. The veins stoodout like cords on his forehead, and theperspiration rolled down his pallidcheeks in great quivering beads. Thisheart-rending, silent emotion was moreterrible to witness than the most violentparoxysms of grief. Strangely enoughthey had quite forgotten to mentionRex's visit.

"You don't know how I loved thatchild," he cried, brokenly. "She was all Ihad to love in the whole world, and Iset such store by her, but Stanwick shallpay dearly for this," he cried, hoarsely."I shall never rest day or night until mylittle Daisy's honor is avenged, so helpme God! You think she is dead " hequestioned, looking brokenly from theone to the other.

They only nodded their heads; theycould not speak through their sobs.

At that moment several of theneighbors who were assisting in thesearch were seen coming toward the

cottage.

They gathered in a little knot by thegarden wall. With a heart heavier thanlead in his bosom John Brooks wentforward to meet them.

"You haven't got any track of my littleDaisy " he asked, despondingly. Themen averted their faces. "For God'ssake speak out, my men!" he cried, inagony; "I can't stand this suspense."

"There are footprints in the wet grassdown yonder," one of them replied;"and they lead straight down to the oldshaft. Do you think your girl has madeaway with herself "

A gray, ghastly pallor settled over JohnBrooks' anguished face.

"The Lord knows! All of you stay herewhile I go down there and look. If Ishould find anything there I'd rather bealone."

There was a depth of agony in theman's voice that touched his hearers,and more than one coat-sleeve wasdrawn hastily across sympathetic eyes asthey whispered one to the other hewould surely find her there.

John Brooks had reached the verymouth of the pit now, and through the

branches of the trees the men saw himsuddenly spring forward, and stoop asif to pick up something, and bitter criesrent the stillness of the summermorning.

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

Then they saw him fall heavily to theground on the very brink of the shaft.

"I guess he's found her!" cried thesympathizing men. "Let us go and see."

They found John Brooks insensible,lying prone on his face, grasping a tinylittle glove in one hand, and in theother a snowy little handkerchief,

which bore, in one corner, worked infanciful design, the name of "Daisy."

CHAPTER XVII.

Glengrove was one of the mostbeautiful spots in the south of Florida.The house similar to many in the Southin style of architecture stood in themidst of charming grounds whichwere filled with flowers. To the left ofthe house was a large shrubbery whichopened on to a wide carriage-driveleading to the main road, but theprincipal attraction of Glengrove wasits magnificent orange grove, where the

brilliant sunshine loved to lingerlongest among the dark-green boughs,painting the luscious fruit with its owngolden coloring from green to gold. Alow stone wall divided it from thebeach which led to the sea.

It was early morning. In an elegantboudoir, whose oriel windowoverlooked the garden, sat three youngladies, respectively, Bessie Glenn, two-and-twenty; Gertie Glenn, twenty; andEve Glenn, eighteen all dark-eyed,dark-haired, and handsome, yet each ofa distinct different type.

"I declare, Bess," cried Gertie,indignantly, twisting the telegram she

held in her hand into a wisp, "it's fromUncle Jet! Guess what he says!"

"I couldn't possibly," yawns Bess, fromthe depths of her easy-chair; "it's toomuch trouble."

"Is it about Alice " questioned Eve,maliciously.

"Yes," replied Gertie; "but you are to tryand guess what it is."

"Why, I suppose some stranger haschanced to flutter down into the quietlittle village of Elmwood, and Alicethinks it her duty to stay there andcapture him."

"That isn't it at all," snapped Gertie."Uncle Jet says Alice can not come; buthe has taken the liberty of sendinganother young lady in her stead, andhopes Miss Daisy Brooks will be theright person in the right place. She willarrive on the twentieth, at nine A. M."

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

"Just fancy some tall, gaunt old maid ofa companion, with such a name!" shecried, raising her eyebrows and pickingup her book again. "I think you willfind the daisy a rather ancient and

faded flower."

"She couldn't be anything else,"assented Gertie.

"Wouldn't it be fun if she should turnout to be young and pretty, and take theshine off both of you " laughed Eve,puckering up her mouth. "I wouldenjoy it immensely!"

"Eve, will you hold your tongue "commanded Bessie, sharply.

"You'd better hold your temper!"retorted Eve.

"Pshaw! what's the use of being so silly

as to quarrel over a Miss Nobody "cried Gertie, stamping her prettyslippered foot. "Guess what else is thenews."

"Haven't I told you I despise guessing "cried Bess, angrily. "It is not good formto insist upon a person's guessingplease remember it."

"Write it down on ice," said Eve, sottovoce, mimicking her elder sister's tone.

"Well," said Gertie, with a look oftriumph, "I drove over to Mrs. Lyon'syesterday to see how everything wasprogressing for that contemplatedmarriage, and, lo! she informs me the

wedding is postponed for the present,and Rex handsome Rex is cominghome alone."

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

Bess sat bolt upright, and Eve dancedaround the room clapping her hands.

"I don't think much of a marriagewhich has been postponed," said Bess,a bright spot glowing on both of hercheeks. "Who knows but what one ofus may have a chance of winninghandsome Rex Lyon, after all He iscertainly a golden prize!"

"'Don't count the chickens,' etc.,"

quoted Eve, saucily.

"Gertrude!" said Bess, severely, "youwill learn after awhile never to speakbefore Eve. She is as liable to domischief as her namesake was in theGarden of Eden."

"You ought never to go back on yourown sex," retorted Eve, banging thedoor after her as she quitted the room,Rover, an ugly-looking mastiff, closelyfollowing at her heels.

"That is certainly an astonishing pieceof news," said Bess, reflectively,smoothing out the folds of her whitecashmere morning wrapper. "Now,

here's a plan for you, Gertie. Find outhis address in some way, and we willwrite to him on some pretext or other.Rex has probably quarreled with thehaughty heiress of Whitestone Hall,and one of us ought certainly to catchhis heart in the rebound. Send him aninvitation to your birthday party,Gertie."

"I would be more likely to succeed thanyou, Bess," said Gertie, rockingcomplacently to and fro, and lookingmaliciously at her sister. "Youremember he once remarked he did notlike tall ladies, and you are certainly tall,Bess."

"Well, I'd rather be tall and willowy andgraceful, than short and fat anddumpy," jerked out Bess, spitefully.

"What! at swords' points yet, eh Ha, ha,ha!" cried Eve, suddenly, popping herhead in at the door. "I'll be back afterawhile to see which one of you gets thebest of it."

Before either of the sisters had time toreply, the family carriage dashedsuddenly up to the porch, and amoment later a slight, dark-robed littlefigure was ushered into their presence.

"This is Miss Brooks, mum," said Jim,the coachman, addressing the elder

sister.

"I'd like to know why you have broughther in here " cried Bess, angrily. "Whydid you not take her into the servants'hall or into the kitchen "

But Jim had disappeared.

"Well, now that you are here, you mightsit down," suggested Gertie, wonderingwhat kind of a face was hid behind thelong, thick, clinging veil. "You may layaside your bonnet and veil."

Trembling and sick at heart with thecold greeting which had been given her,Daisy did as she was bid.

"Why, I declare, you are younger than Iam!" cried Eve, impulsively. "We wereall expecting to see a wrinkled, dried-upold maid. Why, you'd make a muchbetter companion for me than formother."

"E v e!" cried the elder Miss Glenn,severely, "be kind enough to leave theroom."

"I sha'n't go one step until I have hadmy say out," cried Eve, planting herselffirmly down on a hassock in the middleof the floor. "Nobody likes me becauseI'm rude and free-spoken," declaredEve, addressing Daisy; "but I believe in

letting people know just what I am tobegin with. I'm not one of these sleek,smooth, tigery creatures that hide theirclaws under velvet-paws. We are threemodel sisters," she went on, recklessly;"we have tremendous spats when weare here alone; but if a visitor happensin we all sit with our arms around oneanother, 'just to have the appearance' ofaffection, you know."

The elder Miss Glenn arose withdignity, motioning Daisy to follow her.

"Papa will see you later, Eve, dear," shesaid, with a baleful glitter in her sloe-black eyes; and as Daisy followed hershe could not help but compare her

with Pluma Hurlhurst, with thattreacherous, mocking smile playingabout her full, red lips and quiteunconsciously poor little Daisy fell tothinking.

"Rex will go back to Pluma Hurlhurstnow," she thought, with a bitter sigh."He has cast me out of his life; he willgo back and marry her."

Poor, innocent Daisy, how little sheknew of life or the insurmountablebarrier which lay between the haughty,scheming heiress and Rex her husband!

"I was asking you if you resided inElmwood, Miss Brooks," said Bess,

raising her voice. "I have asked youtwice."

"I beg your pardon; please forgive me,"said Daisy, flushing painfully. "I I wasnot aware you had spoken. No, I livednear Elmwood between there andBaltimore."

Daisy was sorely afraid Miss Glennwould ask her to name the exactlocation. She did not, however, muchto Daisy's relief. By this time they hadreached the door of Mrs. Glenn'sroom, and as it was slightly ajar Bessiepushed it open without furtherceremony and entered.

"Has Miss Brooks come yet " asked athin, querulous voice.

"Yes," answered Bessie; "here she is,mamma."

The room was so dark Daisy couldscarcely distinguish the different objectsfor a moment or so. She saw, however, adark figure on a couch and a whitejeweled hand waving a fan indolently toand fro. A sudden impulse came overDaisy to turn and run away, but by agreat effort she controlled her feelings.

"Step forward, if you please, MissBrooks. I can not observe you well atsuch a distance; do not tread on the

poodle on the rug or brush against thebric-a-brac placed indiscriminatelyabout the room."

"Oh, dear, if there were only a light,"thought Daisy, in dismay. She wasafraid of taking a single step for fearsome of the bric-a-brac mentioned,either at the right or left of her, shouldcome crashing down under herblundering little feet.

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

As she spoke she threw back one ofthe shutters with the end of her fan,

and a warm flood of invigoratingsunshine poured into the room.

"Dear me," she cried, staring hard at thebeautiful little face before her. "Why,you are a child, scarcely older than myEve. What could that stupid brother ofmine mean by sending you to me I havea notion to send you back againdirectly."

"Oh, please do not, madame," criedDaisy, piteously. "Only try me first; Iwill do my very best to please you."

"But I did not want a young person,"expostulated Mrs. Glenn.

"But you sent for Alice, his daughter,and and he thought I would do aswell," faltered Daisy, timidly.

"Alice Jet is over forty, and you are notmore than sixteen, I should judge. Howdid you happen to think you could doas well as she "

The color came and went on Daisy'spretty flower-like face, and her heartthrobbed pitifully.

"I am not so very wise or learned," shesaid, "but I should try so hard to pleaseyou, if you will only let me try."

"I suppose, now that you are here, we

will have to make the best of it,"replied Mrs. Glenn, condescendingly.

The fair beauty of the young girl's facedid not please her.

"I have always dreaded fair women,"she thought to herself, "they are themost dangerous of rivals. If she stays atGlengrove I shall see she is kept well inthe background."

While in the morning-room below thethree girls were discussing the new turnof affairs vigorously.

"I am determined she shall not remainhere," Bessie Glenn was saying.

"I heartily indorse your opinion," saidGertie, slowly.

And for once in her life the tongue ofreckless Eve was silent. She lookedthoughtfully out of the window.

CHAPTER XVIII.

The first week of Daisy's stay atGlengrove passed quickly. She wasbeginning to feel quite at home withMrs. Glenn and Eve, but Bessie andGertie held aloof from her. She wasbeginning to believe she never would

be able to win her way to their hearts.Eve warm-hearted, impulsive Eve tookto her at once.

"You are just the kind of a girl I like,Daisy," said Eve, twirling one of hersoft gold curls caressingly around herfinger; "and if I were a handsomeyoung man, instead of a girl, I shouldfall straightway in love with you. Why,what are you blushing so for " criedEve. "Don't you like to talk about loveand lovers "

"No," said Daisy, in a low voice, adistressed look creeping into her blueeyes. "If you please, Eve, I'd rather nottalk about such things."

"You are certainly a funny girl," saidEve, wonderingly. "Why, do you knowall the handsome young fellows aroundhere have fallen deeply in love withyou, and have just been besieging bothBess and Gertie for an introduction toyou."

No laughing rejoinder came fromDaisy'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 toeven ask who they are," said Eve,disappointedly. "I suppose you have

never heard we have some of thehandsomest gentlemen around here tobe met with in the whole South or inthe North either, for that matter," saidEve, enthusiastically. "Wait until youhave seen some of them."

How little she knew the girl's heart andsoul was bound up in Rex, whom shetold herself she was never again to see.

"Do you see that large gray, stone houseyonder, whose turrets you can just seebeyond those trees " asked Eve,suddenly, a mischievous light dancingin her merry hazel eyes.

"Yes," replied Daisy. "I have a fine view

of it from my window upstairs. I haveseen a little child swinging to and fro ina hammock beneath the trees. Poorlittle thing, she uses a crutch. Is shelame "

"Yes," replied Eve, "that's little Birdie;she's lame. I do not want to talk abouther but about her brother. Oh, he isperfectly splendid!" declared Eve,enthusiastically, "and rich, too. Why, heowns I don't know how many cottonplantations and orange groves, and heis oh so handsome! You must take careyou do not fall in love with him. All thegirls do. If you did not, you would be agreat exception; you could scarcely helpcaring for him, he is so winning and so

nice," said Eve, blushing furiously.

How poor little Daisy's heart longedfor sympathy and consolation! Oh, ifshe only dared tell Eve the great hiddensorrow that seemed eating her heartaway! She felt that she must unburdenher heart to some one, or it must surelybreak.

"Eve," she said, her little hands closingsoftly over the restless brown onedrumming a tattoo on the window-sill,and her golden head drooping so closeto Eve's, her curls mingled with herdark locks, "I could never love any onein this world again. I loved once it wasthe sweetest, yet the most bitter,

experience of my life. The same voicethat spoke tender words to me cruellycast me from him. Yet I love him stillwith all my heart. Do not talk to me oflove, or lovers, Eve, I can not bear it.The world will never hold but one facefor me, and that is the face of him whois lost to me forever."

"Oh, how delightfully romantic!" criedEve. "I said to myself over and overagain there was some mystery in yourlife. I have seen such strange shadowsin your eyes, and your voice often hadthe sound of tears in it. I do wish Icould help you in some way," said Eve,thoughtfully. "I'd give the world to setthe matter straight for you. What's his

name, and where does he live "

"I can not tell you," said Daisy, shakingher golden curls sadly.

"Oh, dear! then I do not see how I canhelp you," cried Eve.

"You can not," replied Daisy; "onlykeep my secret for me."

"I will," she cried, earnestly.

And as they parted, Eve resolved in herown mind to bring this truant lover ofDaisy's back to his old allegiance; butthe first and most important step wasto discover his name.

Eve went directly to her own room, herbrain whirling with a new plan, whichshe meant to put into execution atonce, while Daisy strolled on throughthe grounds, choosing the lessfrequented paths. She wanted to be allalone by herself to have a good cry.Somehow she felt so much better forhaving made a partial confidante ofEve.

The sun was beginning to sink in thewest; still Daisy walked on, thinking ofRex. A little shrill piping voice fallingsuddenly upon her ears caused her tostop voluntarily.

"Won't you please reach me my hat andcrutch I have dropped them on yourside of the fence."

Daisy glanced around, wondering inwhich direction the voice came from.

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

The face that looked down into Daisy'salmost took her breath away for a singleinstant, it was so like Rex's.

A bright, winning, childish face, framedin a mass of dark nut-brown curls, andthe brownest of large brown eyes.

"Certainly," said Daisy, stooping downwith a strange unexplainable thrill ather heart and picking up the wide-brimmed sun-hat and crutch, whichwas unfortunately broken by the fall.

A low cry burst from the child's lips.

"Oh, my crutch is broken!" she cried, indismay. "What shall I do I can not walkback to the house. I am lame!"

"Let me see if I can help you," saidDaisy, scaling the stone wall with thegrace of a fawn. "Put your armsaround my neck," she said, "and clingvery tight. I will soon have you down

from your high perch; never mind thecrutch. I can carry you up to the porch;it is not very far, and you are notheavy."

In a very few moments Daisy had thechild down safely upon terra firma.

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

The touch of the little girl's hands, theglance of the soft brown eyes, and thetone of her voice seemed to recall everyword and glance of Rex, and hold astrange fascination for her.

"I shall tell my mother and my brotherhow good you have been to me, andthey will thank you too. My name isBirdie; please tell me yours."

"My name is Daisy Brooks," sheanswered.

Poor little girl-bride, there had been atime when she had whispered to herheart that her name was Daisy Lyon;but that bright dream was over now;she would never be aught else thanDaisy Brooks.

"Is your name really Daisy " cried thelittle girl in a transport of delight,scarcely catching the last name. "Why,

that is the name my brother loves bestin the world. You have such a sweetface," said the child, earnestly. "I wouldchoose the name of some flower asjust suited to you. I should havethought of Lily, Rose, Pansy, or Violet,but I should never have thought ofanything one half so pretty as Daisy; itjust suits you."

All through her life Daisy felt that to bethe sweetest compliment ever paid her.Daisy laughed the only happy laughthat had passed her lips since she hadmet Rex that morning under themagnolia-tree.

"Shall I tell you what my brother said

about daisies "

"Yes, you may tell me, if you like,"Daisy answered, observing the childdelighted to talk of her brother.

"He has been away for a long time,"explained Birdie. "He only came homelast night, and I cried myself to sleep, Iwas so glad. You see," said the child,growing more confidential, andnestling closer to Daisy's side, andopening wide her great brown eyes, "Iwas crying for fear he would bringhome a wife, and mamma was cryingfor fear he wouldn't. I wrote him aletter all by myself once, and beggedhim not to marry, but come home all

alone, and you see he did," cried thechild, overjoyed. "When he answeredmy letter, he inclosed a little pressedflower, with a golden heart and littlewhite leaves around it, saying: 'There isno flower like the daisy for me. I shallalways prize them as pearls beyondprice.' I planted a whole bed of thembeneath his window, and I placed afresh vase of them in his room,mingled with some forget-me-nots, andwhen he saw them, he caught me in hisarms, and cried as though his heartwould break."

If the white fleecy clouds in the bluesky, the murmuring sea, or the silver-throated bobolink swinging in the

green leafy bough above her head, hadonly whispered to Daisy why he lovedthe flowers so well which bore thename of daisy, how much misery mighthave been spared two loving hearts!The gray, dusky shadows of twilightwere creeping up from the sea.

"Oh, see how late it is growing," criedBirdie, starting up in alarm. "I am afraidyou could not carry me up to theporch. If you could only summon aservant, or or my brother."

For answer, Daisy raised the slightburden in her arms with a smile.

"I like you more than I can tell," said

Birdie, laying her soft, pink, dimpledcheek against Daisy's. "Won't you comeoften to the angle in the stone wall Thatis my favorite nook. I like to sit thereand watch the white sails glide by overthe white crested waves."

"Yes," said Daisy, "I will come everyday."

"Some time I may bring my brotherwith me; you must love him, too, won'tyou "

"I should love any one who had youfor a sister," replied Daisy, clasping thelittle figure she held still closer in herarms; adding, in her heart: "You are so

like him."

Birdie gave her such a hearty kiss, thatthe veil twined round her hat tumbledabout her face like a misty cloud.

"You must put me down while you fixyour veil," said Birdie. "You can not seewith it so. There are huge stones in thepath, you would stumble and fall."

"So I shall," assented Daisy, as sheplaced the child down on the soft,green grass.

At that instant swift, springy footstepscame hurriedly down the path, and avoice, which seemed to pierce her very

heart, called: "Birdie, little Birdie, whereare you "

"Here, Brother Rex," called the child,holding out her arms to him with eagerdelight. "Come here, Rex, and carry me;I have broken my crutch."

For one brief instant the world seemedto stand still around poor, haplessDaisy, the forsaken girl-bride. Thewonder was that she did not die, sogreat was her intense emotion. Rex wasstanding before her the handsome,passionate lover, who had married heron the impulse of the moment; theman whom she loved with her wholeheart, at whose name she trembled, of

whom she had made an idol in hergirlish heart, and worshiped the loverwho had vowed so earnestly he wouldshield her forever from the cold, cruelworld, who had sworn eternalconstancy, while the faithful gleamingstars watched him from the blue skyoverhead.

Yes, it was Rex! She could not seethrough the thick, misty veil, how palehis face was in the gathering darkness.Oh, Heaven! how her passionate littleheart went out to him! How shelonged, with a passionate longingwords could not tell, to touch his hand,or rest her weary head on his breast.

Her brain whirled; she seemed, to liveages in those few moments. Should shethrow herself on her knees, and cry outto him, "Oh, Rex, Rex, my darling! I amnot guilty! Listen to me, my love. Hearmy pleading listen to my prayer! I ammore sinned against than sinning. Mylife has been as pure as an angel's takeme back to your heart, or I shall die!"

"She has been so good to me, Rex,"whispered Birdie, clinging to the veilwhich covered Daisy's face. "I broke mycrutch, and she has carried me from thestone wall; won't you please thank herfor me, brother "

Daisy's heart nearly stopped beating;

she knew the eventful moment of herlife had come, when Rex, her handsomeyoung husband, turned courteouslytoward her, extending his hand with awinning smile.

CHAPTER XIX.

On the day following Rex's returnhome, and the morning preceding theevents narrated in our last chapter, Mrs.Theodore Lyon sat in her dressing-room eagerly awaiting her son; hereyebrows met in a dark frown and herjeweled hands were locked tightlytogether in her lap.

"Rex is like his father," she mused; "hewill not be coerced in this matter ofmarriage. He is reckless and willful, yetkind of heart. For long years I have setmy heart upon this marriage betweenRex and Pluma Hurlhurst. I say again itmust be!" Mrs. Lyon idolized her onlyson. "He would be a fitting mate for aqueen," she told herself. The proud,peerless beauty of the haughty youngheiress of Whitestone Hall pleased her."She and no other shall be Rex's wife,"she said.

When Rex accepted the invitation tovisit Whitestone Hall she smiledcomplacently.

"It can end in but one way," she toldherself; "Rex will bring Pluma home ashis bride."

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

"There will be nothing wanting for thereception of his bride," she said,viewing the magnificent suites ofrooms which contained every luxurythat taste could suggest or moneyprocure.

Then came Rex's letter like athunderbolt from a clear sky begging

her not to mention the subject again, ashe could never marry Pluma Hurlhurst.

"I shall make a flying trip home," hesaid, "then I am going abroad."

She did not notice how white and wornher boy's handsome face had grownwhen she greeted him the night before,in the flickering light of the chandelier.She would not speak to him then ofthe subject uppermost in her mind.

"Retire to your room at once, Rex," shesaid, "your journey has wearied you.See, it is past midnight already. I willawait you to-morrow morning in myboudoir; we will breakfast there

together."

She leaned back against the crimsonvelvet cushions, tapping her satinquilted slipper restlessly on the thickvelvet carpet, ever and anon glancing ather jeweled watch, wondering whatcould possibly detain Rex.

She heard the sound of a quick,familiar footstep in the corridor; amoment later Rex was by her side. Asshe stooped down to kiss his face shenoticed, in the clear morning light, howchanged he was. Her jeweled handslingered on his dark curls and touchedhis bright, proud face. "What had comeover this handsome, impetuous son of

hers " she asked herself.

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

"I have not, indeed, mother," hereplied.

"Not ill Why, my dear boy, your face ishaggard and worn, and there are linesupon it that ought not to have beenthere for years. Rex," she said, drawinghim down on the sofa beside her, andholding his strong white hands tightlyclasped in her own, "I do not want totease you or bring up an unpleasantsubject, but I had so hoped, my boy,you would not come alone. I have

hoped and prayed, morning and night,you would bring home a bride, and thatbride would be Pluma Hurlhurst."

Rex staggered from her arms with agroan. He meant to tell her the wholetruth, but the words seemed to fail him.

"Mother," he said, turning toward her aface white with anguish, "in Heaven'sname, never mention love or marriageto me again or I shall go mad. I shallnever bring a bride here."

"He has had a quarrel with Pluma," shethought.

"Rex," she said, placing her hands on

his shoulders and looking down intohis face, "tell me, has Pluma Hurlhurstrefused you Tell me what is the matter,Rex. I am your mother, and I have theright to know. The one dream of mylife has been to see Pluma your wife; Ican not give up that hope. If it is aquarrel it can be easily adjusted; 'truelove never runs smooth,' you know."

"It is not that, mother," said Rex,wearily bowing his head on his hands.

Then something like the truth seemedto dawn upon her.

"My son," she said, in a slight tone ofirritation, "Pluma wrote me of that

little occurrence at the lawn fete. Surelyyou are not in love with that girl youwere so foolishly attentive to theoverseer's niece, I believe it was. I cannot, I will not, believe a son of minecould so far forget his pride as toindulge in such mad, reckless folly.Remember, Rexford," she cried, in avoice fairly trembling with suppressedrage, "I could never forgive such an actof recklessness. She should never comehere, I warn you."

"Mother," said Rex, raising his headproudly, and meeting the flashing scornof her eyes unflinchingly, "you mustnot speak so; I can not listen to it."

"By what right do you forbid me tospeak of that girl as I choose " shedemanded, in a voice hard and coldwith intense passion.

Once or twice Rex paced the length ofthe room, his arms folded upon hisbreast. Suddenly he stopped before her.

"What is this girl to you " she asked.

With white, quivering lips Rexanswered back:

"She is my wife!"

The words were spoken almost in awhisper, but they echoed like thunder

through the room, and seemed torepeat themselves, over and over again,during the moment of utter silence thatensued. Rex had told his pitiful secret,and felt better already, as if the worstwas over; while his mother stoodmotionless and dumb, glaring uponhim with a baleful light in her eyes. Hehad dashed down in a single instant thehopes she had built up for long years.

"Let me tell you about it, mother," hesaid, kneeling at her feet. "The worstand bitterest part is yet to come."

"Yes, tell me," his mother said, hoarsely.

Without lifting up his bowed head, or

raising his voice, which was strangelysad and low, Rex told his story everyword of it: how his heart had went outto the sweet-faced, golden-haired littlecreature whom he found fast asleepunder the blossoming magnolia-tree inthe morning sunshine; how heprotected the shrinking, timid littlecreature from the cruel insults ofPluma Hurlhurst; how he persuadedher to marry him out in the starlight,and how they had agreed to meet onthe morrow that morrow on which hefound the cottage empty and his child-bride gone; of his search for her, andoh, cruelest and bitterest of all! whereand with whom he found her; how hehad left her lying among the clover,

loving her too madly to curse her, yetpraying Heaven to strike him dead thenand there. Daisy sweet little, blue-eyedDaisy was false; he never cared to lookupon a woman's face again. He spokeof Daisy as his wife over and overagain, the name lingering tenderly onhis lips. He did not see how, at themention of the words, "My wife," hismother's face grew more stern andrigid, and she clutched her hands sotightly together that the rings she worebruised her tender flesh, yet she did notseem to feel the pain.

She saw the terrible glance that leapedinto his eyes when he mentionedStanwick's name, and how he ground

his teeth, like one silently breathing aterrible curse. Then his voice fell to awhisper.

"I soon repented of my harshness," hesaid, "and I went back to Elmwood;but, oh, the pity of it the pity of it Iwas too late; little Daisy, my bride, wasdead! She had thrown herself down ashaft in a delirium. I would havefollowed her, but they held me back. Ican scarcely realize it, mother," he cried."The great wonder is that I do not goinsane."

Mrs. Lyon had heard but one word"Dead." This girl who had inveigled herhandsome son into a low marriage was

dead. Rex was free free to marry thebride whom she had selected for him.Yet she dare not mention that thoughtto him now no, not now; she must waita little.

No pity lurked in her heart for the poorlittle girl-bride whom she supposedlying cold and still in death, whom herson so wildly mourned; she onlyrealized her darling Rex was free. Whatmattered it to her at what bitter a costRex was free She should yet see herdarling hopes realized. Pluma shouldbe his wife, just as sure as they bothlived.

"I have told you all now, mother," Rex

said, in conclusion; "you must comfortme, for Heaven knows I need all ofyour sympathy. You will forgive me,mother," he said. "You would haveloved Daisy, too, if you had seen her; Ishall always believe, through someenormous villainy, Stanwick must havetempted her. I shall follow him to theends of the earth. I shall wring thetruth from his lips. I must go away," hecried "anywhere, everywhere, trying toforget my great sorrow. How am I tobear it Has Heaven no pity, that I am sosorely tried "

At that moment little Birdie camehobbling into the room, and for a briefmoment Rex forgot his great grief in

greeting his little sister.

"Oh, you darling brother Rex," shecried, clinging to him and laughing andcrying in one breath, "I told them towake me up sure, if you came in thenight. I dreamed I heard your voice.You see, it must have been real, but Icouldn't wake up; and this morning Iheard every one saying: 'Rex is here, Rexis here,' and I couldn't wait anothermoment, but I came straight down toyou."

Rex kissed the pretty little dimpled face,and the little chubby hands that strokedhis hair so tenderly.

"Why, you have been crying, Rex," shecried out, in childish wonder. "See,there are tear-drops on your eyelashesone fell on my hand. What is thematter, brother dear, are you not happy"

Birdie put her two little soft white armsaround his neck, laying her cheek closeto his in her pretty, childish, caressingway.

He tried to laugh lightly, but the laughhad no mirth in it.

"You must run away and play, Birdie,and not annoy your brother," said Mrs.Lyon, disengaging the child's clinging

arms from Rex's neck. "That child isgrowing altogether too observing oflate."

"Child!" cried Birdie. "I am ten yearsold. I shall soon be a young lady likeBess and Gertie, over at Glengrove."

"And Eve," suggested Rex, the shadowof a smile flickering around his mouth.

"No, not like Eve," cried the child,gathering up her crutch and sun-hat asshe limped toward the door; "Eve isnot a young lady, she's a Tom-boy; shewears short dresses and chases thehounds around, while the other twowear silk dresses with big, big trains

and have beaus to hold their fans andhandkerchiefs. I am going to take mynew books you sent me down to myold seat on the stone wall and readthose pretty stories there. I don't knowif I will be back for lunch or not," shecalled back; "if I don't, will you comefor me, Brother Rex "

"Yes, dear," he made answer, "of courseI will."

The lunch hour came and went, stillBirdie did not put in an appearance. Atlast Rex was beginning to feel uneasyabout her.

"You need not be the least alarmed,"

said Mrs. Lyon, laughingly, "the child isquite spoiled; she is like a rompinggypsy, more content to live out ofdoors in a tent than to remain indoors.She is probably waiting down on thestone wall for you to come for her andcarry her home as you used to do. Youhad better go down and see, Rex; it isgrowing quite dark."

And Rex, all unconscious of thestrange, invisible thread which fate wasweaving so closely about him, quicklymade his way through the fast-gathering darkness down the oldfamiliar path which led through theodorous orange groves to the old stonewall, guided by the shrill treble of

Birdie's childish voice, which he heardin the distance, mingled with theplaintive murmur of the sad sea-wavesthose waves that seemed evermurmuring in their song the name ofDaisy. Even the subtle breeze seemed towhisper of her presence.

CHAPTER XX.

"I am very grateful to you for theservice you have rendered my littlesister," said Rex, extending his hand tothe little veiled figure standing in theshade of the orange-trees. "Allow meto thank you for it."

Poor Daisy! she dared not speak lest thetones of her voice should betray heridentity.

"I must for evermore be as one dead tohim," she whispered to her wildlybeating heart.

Rex wondered why the little, fluttering,cold fingers dropped so quickly fromhis clasp; he thought he heard a stifledsigh; the slight, delicate form lookedstrangely familiar, yet he could see itwas neither Eve, Gerty, nor Bess. Shebowed her head with a few low-murmured words he scarcely caught,and the next instant the little figure was

lost to sight in the darkness beyond.

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

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

"It is so stupid of me to forget, butwhen I see her again I shall ask her andtry and remember it then."

"It is of no consequence," said Rex,raising the little figure in his arms andbearing her quickly up the graveledpath to the house.

As he neared the house Rex observedthere was great confusion among theservants; there was a low murmur ofvoices and lights moving to and fro.

"What is the matter, Parker " cried Rex,anxiously, of the servant who came outto meet him.

"Mrs. Lyon is very ill, sir," he answered,gravely; "it is a paralytic stroke thedoctor says. We could not find you, sowe went for Doctor Elton at once."

It seemed but a moment since he hadparted from his mother in the gatheringtwilight, to search for Birdie. Hismother very ill dear Heaven! he could

scarcely realize it.

"Oh, take me to mother, Rex!" criedBirdie, clinging to him piteously. "Oh, itcan not, it cannot be true; take me toher, Rex!"

The sound of hushed weeping fellupon his ears and seemed to bring tohim a sense of what was happening.Like one in a dream he hurried alongthe corridor toward his mother'sboudoir. He heard his mother's voicecalling for him.

"Where is my son " she moaned.

He opened the door quietly and went

in. Her dark eyes opened feebly as Rexentered, and she held out her arms tohim.

"Oh, my son, my son!" she cried;"thank Heaven you are here!"

She clung to him, weeping bitterly. Itwas the first time he had ever seen tearsin his mother's eyes, and he wastouched beyond words.

"It may not be as bad as you think,mother," he said; "there is always hopewhile there is life."

She raised her face to her son's, and hesaw there was a curious whiteness upon

it.

The large, magnificent room was quitein shadow; soft shadows filled thecorners; the white statuettes gleamed inthe darkness; one blind was halfdrawn, and through it came the soft,sweet moonlight. A large night-lampstood upon the table, but it wascarefully shaded. Faint glimmers oflight fell upon the bed, with its costlyvelvet hangings, and on the white,drawn face that lay on the pillows, withthe gray shadow of death stealing softlyover it the faint, filmy look that comesonly into eyes that death has begun todarken.

His mother had never beendemonstrative; she had never cared formany caresses; but now her son's loveseemed her only comfort.

"Rex," she said, clinging close to him, "Ifeel that I am dying. Send them all awaymy hours are numbered a mist risesbefore my face, Rex. Oh, dear Heaven! Ican not see you I have lost my sight myeyes grow dim."

A cry came from Rex's lips.

"Mother, dear mother," he cried, "thereis no pain in this world I would notundergo for your dear sake!" he cried,kissing the stiffening lips.

She laid her hands on the handsomehead bent before her.

"Heaven bless you, my son," shemurmured. "Oh, Rex, my hope and mytrust are in you!" she wailed. "Comfortme, calm me I have suffered so much. Ihave one last dying request to make ofyou, my son. You will grant my prayer,Rex Surely Heaven would not let yourefuse my last request!"

Rex clasped her in his arms. This washis lady-mother, whose proud, calm,serene manner had always been perfectwhose fair, proud face had never beenstained with tears whose lips had never

been parted with sighs or worn withentreaties.

It was so new to him, so terrible in itsnovelty, he could hardly understand it.He threw his arms around her, andclasped her closely to his breast.

"My dearest mother," he cried, "youknow I would die for you if dyingwould benefit you. Why do you doubtmy willingness to obey your wishes,whatever they may be Whatever I cando to comfort you I will surely do it,mother."

"Heaven bless you, Rex!" she cried,feebly caressing his face and his bands.

"You make death a thousand-fold moreeasy to bear, my darling, only son!"

"My dear sir," said the doctor, bendingover him gently, "I must remind youyour mother's life hangs on a thread.The least excitement, the least agitation,and she will be dead before you can callfor help. No matter what she may say toyou, listen and accede."

Rex bent down and kissed the pale,agitated face on the pillow.

"I will be careful of my dearest mother.Surely you may trust me," he said.

"I do," replied the doctor, gravely.

"Your mother's life, for the present, liesin your hands."

"Is it true, Rex, that I must die " shegasped. The look of anguish on hisface answered her. "Rex," shewhispered, clinging like a child to hisstrong white hands, "my hope and trustare in you, my only son. I am going toput your love to the test, my boy. Ibeseech you to say 'Yes' to the lastrequest I shall ever make of you.Heaven knows, Rex, I would notmention it now, but I am dying yes,dying, Rex."

"You need not doubt it, mother," hereplied, earnestly, "I can not refuse

anything you may ask! Why should I "

But, as he spoke, he had not the faintestidea of what he would be asked to do.As he spoke his eyes caught the gleamof the moonlight through the window,and his thoughts traveled for onemoment to the beloved face he hadseen in the moonlight how fair andinnocent the face was as they parted onthe night they were wed! The picture ofthat lonely young girl-wife, going homeby herself, brought tears to his eyes.

"Was there ever a fate so cruel " he saidto himself. "Who ever lost a wife on hiswedding-day "

Surely there had never been a love-dream so sweet, so passionate, or sobright as his. Surely there had neverbeen one so rudely broken.

Poor little Daisy his wife lying cold andstill in death. Even his mother was tobe taken from him.

The feeble pressure of his mother'shands recalled his wandering thoughts.

"Listen, Rex," she whispered, faintly,"my moments are precious."

He felt his mother's arms clasp closelyround his neck.

"Go on, mother," he said, gently.

"Rex, my son," she whispered,gaspingly, "I could not die and leave thewords unspoken. I want my race to livelong generations after me. Your poorlittle lame sister will go unmarried tothe grave; and now all rests with you,my only son. You understand me, Rex;you know the last request I have toask."

For the first time a cry came to Rex'slips; her words pierced like a sword inhis heart.

"Surely, mother, you do not mean youdo not think I could ever "

The very horror of the thought seemedto completely unman him.

"You will marry again," sheinterrupted, finishing the sentence hecould not utter. "Remember, she whomyou loved is dead. I would not haveasked this for long years to come, but Iam dying I must speak now."

"My God, mother!" he cried out inagony, "ask anything but that. My heartis torn and bleeding; have pity on me,have pity!"

Great drops of agony started on hisbrow; his whole frame shook with

agitation.

He tried to collect himself, to gather hisscattered thoughts, to realize the fullimport of the words she had spoken.

Marry again! Heaven pity him! Howcould he harbor such a thought for asingle instant, when he thought of thepale, cold face of little Daisy his fairyoung bride whom he so madly loved,lying pale and still in death, like abroken lily, down in the dark,bottomless pit which never yielded upits terrible secrets!

"Rex," wailed his mother, feebly, gazinginto his eyes with a suspense heart-

breaking to witness, "don't refuse methis the first prayer I had ever made. Ifyou mean to refuse it would be kinderfar to plunge a dagger into my heartand let me die at once. You can notrefuse." One trembling hand she laidon his breast, and with the othercaressed his face. "You are good andgentle of heart, Rex; the prayers ofyour dying mother will touch you.Answer me, my son; tell me my proudold race shall not die with you, and Iwill rest calmly in my grave."

The cold night-wind fanned his pallidbrow, and the blood coursed throughhis veins like molten lead. He saw thetears coursing down her pale, withered

cheeks. Ah, God! was it brave to speakthe words which must bring despairand death to her Was it filial to send hismother to her grave with sorrow andsadness in her heart Could he thrustaside his mother's loving arms andresist her dying prayer Heaven directhim, 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 tokiss your rosy little face and dreamwhat your future would be like. Itcomes back to me now while I plead toyou with my fast-fleeting breath. Oh,answer me, Rex."

All the love and tenderness of theyoung man's impulsive heart wasstirred by the words. Never was a manso fearfully tried. Rex's handsome facehad grown white with emotion; deepshadows came into his eyes. Ah, whatcould it matter now His hopes weredead, his heart crushed, yet how couldhe consent

"Oh, Heaven, Rex!" she cried, "whatdoes that look on your face mean Whatis it "

The look of terror on her face seemedto force the mad words from his lips,the magnetic gaze seemed to hold himspellbound. He bent over hie mother

and laid his fresh, brave young face onthe cold, white face of his dyingmother.

"Promise me, Rex," she whispered.

"I promise, mother!" he cried. "Godhelp 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 with gratitude.Some day you will thank me for it,Rex."

They were uttered! Oh, fatal words!

Poor Rex, wedded and parted, his love-dream broken, how little he knew ofthe bitter grief which was to accruefrom that promise wrung from hiswhite lips.

Like one in a dream he heard hermurmur the name of Pluma Hurlhurst.The power of speech seemed deniedhim; 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 with Daisy, mysweet little lost love."

Poor Rex! how little he knew Daisy wasat that self-same moment watching with

beating heart the faint light of hiswindow through the branches of thetrees Daisy, whom he mourned as dead,alas! dead to him forever, shut out fromhis life by the rash words of that fatallycruel promise.

CHAPTER XXI.

One thought only was uppermost inDaisy's mind as she sped swiftly downthe flower-bordered path in themoonlight, away from the husbandwho was still so dear to her.

"He did not recognize me," she panted,

in a little quivering voice. "Would hehave cursed me, I wonder, had heknown it was I "

Down went the little figure on herknees in the dew-spangled grass with asharp little cry.

"Oh, dear, what shall I do " she criedout in sudden fright. "How could Iknow she was his sister when I told hermy name " A twig fell from the boughabove her head brushed by some night-bird's wing. "He is coming to search forme," she whispered to herself.

A tremor ran over her frame; the colorflashed into her cheek and parted lips,

and a startled, wistful brightness creptinto the blue eyes.

Ah! there never could have been a loveso sweetly trustful and child-like aslittle Daisy's for handsome Rex, herhusband in name only.

Poor, little, innocent Daisy! if she hadwalked straight back to him, crying out,"Rex, Rex, see, I am Daisy, your wife!"how much untold sorrow might havebeen spared her.

Poor, little, lonely, heart-broken child-bride! how was she to know Rex hadbitterly repented and come back toclaim her, alas! too late; and how he

mourned her, refusing to be comforted,and how they forced him back from theedge of the treacherous shaft lest heshould plunge headlong down theterrible depths. Oh, if she had butknown all this!

If Rex had dropped down from theclouds she could not have been morestartled and amazed at finding him insuch close proximity away down inFlorida.

She remembered he had spoken to herof his mother, as he clasped her to hisheart out in the starlight of that never-to-be-forgotten night, whispering toher of the marriage which had been the

dearest wish of his mother's heart.

She remembered how she had hid herhappy, rosy, blushing face on his breast,and asked him if he was quite sure heloved her better than Pluma Hurlhurst,the haughty, beautiful heiress.

"Yes, my pretty little sweetheart, athousand times better," he had replied,emphatically, holding her off at arm's-length, watching the heightened colorthat surged over the dainty, dimpledface so plainly discernible in the white,radiant starlight.

Daisy rested her head on one soft,childish hand, and gazed thoughtfully

up at the cold, brilliant stars thatgemmed the heavens above her.

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

A sudden impulse seized her, strong asher very life, to look upon his faceagain.

"I would be content to live my wearylife out uncomplainingly then," shesaid.

Without intent or purpose she walkedhurriedly back through the pansy-bordered path she had so lately

traversed.

The grand old trees seemed to stretchtheir giant arms protectingly over her, asif to ward off all harm.

The night-wind fanned her flushedcheeks and tossed her golden curlsagainst her wistful, tear-stained face.Noiselessly she crept up the wide,graveled path that led to his home thehome which should have been hers.

Was it fancy She thought she heardRex's voice crying out: "Daisy, mydarling!" How pitifully her heartthrilled! Dear Heaven! if it had onlybeen true. It was only the restless

murmur of the waves sighing amongthe orange-trees.

A light burned dimly in an upperwindow. Suddenly a shadow fell acrossthe pale, silken curtains. She knew buttoo well whose shadow it was; theproud, graceful poise of the handsomehead, and the line of the dark curlswaving over the broad brow, couldbelong to no one but Rex. There wasno one but the pitying moonlight outthere to see how passionately the poorlittle child-bride kissed the pale roseson which that shadow had fallen, andhow she broke it from the stem andplaced it close to her beating heart thatlonely, starved little heart, chilled under

the withering frost of neglect, whenlife, love and happiness should havebeen just bursting into bloom for her.

"He said I had spoiled his life," shesighed, leaning her pale face wearilyagainst the dark-green ivy vines. "Hemust have meant I had come betweenhim and Pluma. Will he go back to her,now that he believes me dead "

One question alone puzzled her: HadBirdie mentioned her name, and wouldhe know it was she, whom every onebelieved lying so cold and still in thebottomless 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 soongoing away again.

"How could I bear it " she askedherself, piteously.

It was not in human nature to see theyoung husband whom she loved sowell drifting so completely away fromher and still remain silent. "I will watchover him from afar; I will be hisguardian angel; I must remain as onedead to him forever," she told herself.

Afar off, over the dancing, moonlighted

waters she saw a pleasure-boat glidingswiftly over the rippling waves. Shecould hear their merry laughter and gay,happy voices, and snatches of mirthfulsongs. Suddenly the band struck up anold, familiar strain. Poor little Daisyleaned her head against the iron railingof the porch and listened to those cruelwords the piece that they played was"Love's Young Dream."

Love's young dream! Ah! how cruellyhers had ended! She looked up at thewhite, fleecy clouds above her, vaguelywondering why the love of one personmade the earth a very paradise, or awilderness. As the gay, joyous musicfloated up to her the words of the poet

found echo in her heart in a passionateappeal:

"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 waythrough,"

Oh, it was such a blessed relief to herto watch that shadow. Rex was pacingup and down the room now, his armsfolded and his head bent on his breast.Poor, patient little Daisy, watchingalone out in the starlight, waswondering if he was thinking of her.

No thought occurred to her of being

discovered there with her arms claspedaround that marble pillar watching sointently the shadow of that graceful,manly figure pacing to and fro.

No thought occurred to her that astrange event was at that momenttranspiring within those walls, or thatsomething unusual was about tohappen.

How she longed to look upon his facefor just one brief moment!Estrangement had not chilled hertrusting 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, bitterthought swept across her heart.

Did Rex regret their marriage becauseshe was poor, friendless, and an orphanWould it have been different if she hadbeen the heiress of Whitestone Hall

She pitied herself for her utterloneliness. There was no one to whomshe could say one word of all that filledher heart and mind, no face to kiss, noheart to lean on; she was so completelyalone. And this was the hour her fatewas being decided for her. There wasno sympathy for her, her isolation was

bitter. She thought of all the heroinesshe had ever read of. Ah, no one couldpicture such a sad fate as was hers.

A bright thought flashed across herlonely little heart.

"His mother is there," she sighed. "Ah,if I were to go to her and cry out: 'Loveme, love me! I am your son's wife!'would she cast me from her Ah, no,surely not; a woman's gentle heart beatsin her breast, a woman's tender pity. Iwill plead with her on my knees tocomfort me to show me some path outof the pitiful darkness; I can love herbecause she is his mother."

Daisy drew her breath quickly; the colorglowed warmly on her cheek and lips;she wondered she had not thought ofit before. Poor child! she meant to tellher all, and throw herself upon hermercy.

Her pretty, soft blue eyes, tender withthe light of love, were swimming withtears. A vain hope was struggling in herheart Rex's mother might love her,because she worshiped her only son sodearly.

Would she send her forth from thathome that should have sheltered her, orwould she clasp those little cold fingersin Rex's strong white ones, as she

explained to him, as only a mother can,how sadly he had misjudged poor littleDaisy his wife

No wonder her heart throbbed pitifullyas she stole silently across the wide,shadowy porch, and, quivering fromhead to foot, touched the bell thatechoed with a resounding soundthrough the long entrance-hall.

"I would like to see Mrs. Lyon," shesaid, hesitatingly, to the servant whoanswered her summons. "Please do notrefuse me," she said, clasping her littlewhite hands pleadingly. "I must see herat once. It is a question of life or deathwith me. Oh, sir, please do not refuse

me. I must see her at once and allalone!"

CHAPTER XXII.

In the beautiful drawing-room atWhitestone Hall sat Pluma Hurlhurst,running her white, jeweled fingerslightly over the keyboard of a grandpiano, but the music evidently failed tocharm her. She arose listlessly andwalked toward the window, whichopened out upon the wide, cool, rose-embowered porch.

The sunshine glimmered on her amber

satin robe, and the white frost-work oflace at her throat, and upon the dark,rich beauty of her southern face.

"Miss Pluma," called Mrs. Corliss, thehousekeeper, entering the room, "thereis a person down-stairs who wishes tosee you. I have told her repeatedly it isan utter impossibility you would notsee her; but she declares she will not goaway until she does see you."

Pluma turns from the window withcold disdain.

"You should know better than todeliver a message of this kind to me.How dare the impertinent, presuming

beggar insist upon seeing me! Order theservants to put her out of the house atonce."

"She is not young," said the venerablehousekeeper, "and I thought, if youonly would "

"Your opinion was not called for, Mrs.Corliss," returned the heiress, pointingtoward the door haughtily.

"I beg your pardon," the housekeepermade answer, "but the poor creaturebegged so hard to see you I did feel alittle sorry for her."

"This does not interest me, Mrs.

Corliss," said Pluma, turning towardthe window, indicating the conversationwas at an end "not in the least."

"The Lord pity you, you stony-heartedcreature!" murmured the sympatheticold lady to herself as the door closedbetween them. "One word wouldn'thave cost you much, Heaven knows, it'smightly little comfort poor old mastertakes with you! You are no more likethe bonny race of Hurlhursts than araven is like a white dove!" And thepoor old lady walked slowly back to thedark-robed figure in the hall, so eagerlyawaiting her.

"There was no use in my going to my

young mistress; I knew she would notsee you. But I suppose you are moresatisfied now."

"She utterly refuses to see me, doesshe," asked the woman, in an agitatedvoice, "when you told her I wished tosee her particularly "

The housekeeper shook her head.

"When Miss Pluma once makes up hermind to a thing, no power on earthcould change her mind," she said; "andshe is determined she won't see you, soyou may as well consider that the endof it."

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

"Fool that I was!" she mutteredthrough her clinched teeth. "I mighthave foreseen this. But I will haunt theplace day and night until I see you,proud heiress of Whitestone Hall. Weshall see time will tell."

Meanwhile Mrs. Corliss, thehousekeeper, was staring after her withwondering eyes.

"I have heard that voice and seen thatface somewhere," she ruminated,thoughtfully; "but where where There

seems to be strange leaks in this brainof 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 shecould not spare that poor creature amoment or so " he inquired, irritably."Where is she "

"In the parlor, sir."

With slow, feeble steps, more fromweakness than age, Basil Hurlhurstwalked slowly down the corridor to theparlor.

It was seldom he left his ownapartments of late, yet Pluma neverraised her superb eyes from the bookof engravings which lay in her lap as heentered the room.

A weary smile broke under his silver-white mustache.

"You do not seem in a hurry to bid me

welcome, Pluma," he said, grimly,throwing himself down into an easy-chair opposite her. "I congratulatemyself upon having such anaffectionate daughter."

Pluma tossed aside her book with ayawn.

"Of course I am glad to see you," shereplied, carelessly; "but you can notexpect me to go into ecstasies over theevent like a child in pinafores might.You ought to take it for granted thatI'm glad you are beginning to see whatutter folly it is to make such a recluseof yourself."

He bit his lip in chagrin. As is usuallythe case with invalids, he was at timesinclined to be decidedly irritable, as wasthe case just now.

"It is you who have driven me to seekthe seclusion of my own apartments, tobe out of sight and hearing of thehousehold of simpering idiots youinsist upon keeping about you," hecried, angrily. "I came back toWhitestone Hall for peace and rest. DoI get it No."

"That is not my fault," she answered,serenely. "You do not mingle with theguests. I had no idea they could annoyyou."

"Well, don't you suppose I have eyesand ears, even if I do not mingle withthe chattering magpies you fill thehouse up with Why, I can never take aramble in the grounds of an eveningwithout stumbling upon a dozen ormore pair of simpering lovers at everyturn. I like darkness and quiet. Nightafter night I find the grounds strung upwith these Chinese lanterns, and I cannot even sleep in my bed for the eternalbrass bands at night; and in the daytimenot a moment's quiet do I get for theseinfernal sonatas and screeching trills ofthe piano. I tell you plainly, I shall notstand this thing a day longer. I ammaster of Whitestone Hall yet, and

while I live I shall have things my ownway. After I die you can turn it into apandemonium, for all I care."

Pluma flashed her large dark eyes uponhim surprisedly, beginning to lose hertemper, spurred on by opposition.

"I am sure I do not mean to make ahermit of myself because you are tooold to enjoy the brightness of youth,"she flashed out, defiantly; "and youought not to expect it it is mean andcontemptible of you."

"Pluma!" echoed Basil Hurlhurst, inastonishment, his noble face growingwhite and stern with suppressed

excitement, "not another word."

Pluma tossed her head contemptuously.When once her temper arose it wasquite as impossible to check it as it waswhen she was a willful, revengeful,spoiled child.

"Another man as rich as you are wouldhave taken their daughter toWashington for a season, and in thesummer to Long Branch or Newportsomewhere, anywhere, away from thedetestable waving cotton-fields. Whenyou die I shall have it all set on fire."

"Pluma!" he cried, hoarsely, rising to hisfeet and drawing his stately,

commanding figure to its full height, "Iwill not brook such language from achild who should at least yield meobedience, if not love. You are not theheiress of Whitestone Hall yet, and younever may be. If I thought you reallycontemplated laying waste these wavingfields that have been my pride for longyears and my father's before me I wouldwill it to an utter stranger, so help meHeaven!"

Were his words prophetic How littleshe knew the echo of these words weredoomed to ring for all time down thecorridors of her life! How little weknow what is in store for us!

"I am your only child," said Pluma,haughtily; "you would not rob me ofmy birthright. I shall be forced tosubmit to your pleasure while you arehere but, thank Heaven, the time is notfar distant when I shall be able to do asI please. 'The mills of the gods grindslowly, but they grind exceeding fine,'"she quoted, saucily.

"Thank Heaven the time is not fardistant when I shall be able to do as Iplease." He repeated the words slowlyafter her, each one sinking into hisheart like a poisoned arrow. "So youwould thank Heaven for my death,would you " he cried, with passionrising to a white heat. "Well, this is no

better than I could expect from thedaughter of such a mother."

He had never intended speaking thosewords; but she goaded him on to itwith her taunting, scornful smile,reminding him so bitterly of the onegreat error of his past life.

He was little like the kind, courteousmaster of Whitestone Hall, whomnone named but to praise, as he stoodthere watching the immovable face ofhis daughter. All the bitterness of hisnature was by passion rocked. No lookof pain or anguish touched the darkbeauty of that southern face at themention of her mother's name.

"You have spoken well," she said. "I amher child. You speak of love," she cried,contemptuously. "Have you not toldme, a thousand times, you never caredfor my mother How, then, could Iexpect you to care for me Have you notcried out unceasingly for the golden-haired young wife and the babe youlost, and that you wished Heaven hadtaken you too Did I ever hear mymother's name upon your lips exceptwith a sneer Do you expect these thingsmade that mother's child more fond ofyou, were you twenty times my father "

She stood up before him, proudlydefiant, like a beautiful tragedy queen,

the sunlight slanting on the goldenvines of her amber satin robe, on thelong, dark, silken curls fastened with aruby star, and on the deep crimson-hearted passion-roses that quivered onher heaving breast. There was not onefeature of that gloriously dark face thatresembled the proud, cold man sittingopposite her.

He knew all she had said was quite true.He had tried so hard to love thisbeautiful queenly girl from her infancyup. He was tender of heart, honest andtrue; but an insurmountable barrierseemed ever between them; each yearfound them further apart.

Basil Hurlhurst lived over again inthose few moments the terrible follythat had cursed his youth, as hewatched the passion-rocked face beforehim.

"Youth is blind and will not see," hadbeen too bitterly true with him. It wasin his college days, when the worldseemed all gayety, youth and sunshineto him, he first met the beautiful facethat was to darken all of his after life.He was young and impulsive; hethought it was love that filled his heartfor the beautiful stranger who appearedalone and friendless in that little collegetown.

He never once asked who or what shewas, or from whence she came, thisbeautiful creature with the large, dark,dreamy eyes that thrilled his heart intolove. She carried the town by storm;every young man at the college wasdeeply, desperately in love. But Basil,the handsomest and wealthiest of themall, thought what a lark it would be tosteal a march on them all by marryingthe dark-eyed beauty then and there. Henot only thought it, but executed it, butit was not the lark that he thought itwas going to be. For one short happyweek he lived in a fool's paradise, thena change came over the spirit of hisdreams. In that one week she had spenthis year's income and all the money he

could borrow, then petulantly left himin anger.

For two long years he never lookedupon her face again. One stormy nightshe returned quite unexpectedly atWhitestone Hall, bringing with hertheir little child Pluma, and, placing herin her father's arms, bitterrecriminations followed. Bitterly BasilHurlhurst repented that terrible mistakeof his youth, that hasty marriage.

When the morning light dawned hetook his wife and child fromWhitestone Hall took them abroad.What did it matter to him where theywent Life was the same to him in one

part of the world as another. For a yearthey led a weary life of it. Heaven onlyknew how weary he was of the womanthe law called his wife!

One night, in a desperate fit of anger,she threw herself into the sea; her bodywas never recovered. Then the masterof Whitestone Hall returned with hischild, a sadder and wiser man.

But the bitterest drop in his cup hadbeen added last. The golden-hairedyoung wife, the one sweet love whomhe had married last, was taken fromhim; even her little child, tiny image ofthat fair young mother, had not beenspared him.

How strange it was such a passionateyearning always came over him whenhe thought of his child!

When he saw a fair, golden-hairedyoung girl, with eyes of blue, the painin his heart almost stifled him. Somestrange unaccountable fate urged himto ever seek for that one face even inthe midst of crowds. It was a mad,foolish fancy, yet it was the oneconsolation of Basil Hurlhurst's weary,tempest tossed life.

No wonder he set his teeth hardtogether as he listened to the coldwords of the proud, peerless beauty

before him, who bore every lineamentof her mother's dark, fatal beauty thisdaughter who scornfully spoke of thehour when he should die as of somehappy, long-looked-for event.

Those waving cotton-fields thatstretched out on all sides as far as theeye could reach, like a waving field ofsnow, laid waste beneath the fire fiend'sscorching breath! Never never!

Then and there the proud, self-conscious young heiress lost all chancesof reigning a regal queen, by fair means,of Whitestone Hall.

CHAPTER XXIII.

The servant who opened the door forDaisy looked earnestly at the fair,pleading young face, framed in rings ofgolden hair, so pure and spiritual that itlooked like an angel's with the softwhite moonlight falling over it.

"You will not refuse me," she repeated,timidly. "I must speak to Mrs. Lyon."

"You have come too late," he replied,gently; "Mrs. Lyon is dead."

The man never forgot the despairinglook of horror that deepened in the

childish blue eyes raised to his.

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

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

"If there is any message you would liketo leave," said the kind-hearted Parker,"I will take it to Mr. Rex."

"No," said Daisy, shaking her head, "Ihave no message to leave; perhaps I willcome again after this is all over," she

made answer, hesitatingly; her brain wasin a whirl; she wanted to get away all byherself to think. "Please don't say anyone was here," she said, quickly; "I Idon't want any one to know."

The sweet, plaintive voice, as sweet asthe silvery note of a forest bird, wentstraight to his heart.

Whatever the mission of this beautiful,mysterious visitor, he would certainlyrespect her wishes.

"I shall not mention it if you do notwish it," he said.

"Thank you," she replied, simply; "you

are very kind. My life seems made upof disappointments," she continued, asshe walked slowly home under therestless, sighing green branches.

It seemed so indeed. She was so youngand inexperienced to be thrown soentirely upon the cold, pitiless worldcut off so entirely from all humansympathy. She entered the house quiteunobserved. Eve bright, merry, dashingEve was singing like a lark in thedrawing-room, making the old houseecho with her bright young voice.

"How happy she is!" thought Daisy,wistfully. "She has home, friends, andlove, while I have nothing that makes

life worth the living."

Like a shadow, she flitted on throughthe dim, shadowy hall, toward her ownlittle room. She saw Gertie's door wasajar as she passed it, and the sound ofher own name caused her to pausevoluntarily.

It was very natural for Daisy to pause.How many are there who would havepassed on quietly, with no desire toknow what was being said ofthemselves, when they heard their ownnames mentioned in such a sneeringmanner Daisy certainly meant no harmby it; she paused, thoughtfully andcuriously, as any one would have done.

"I am sure I don't like it," Gertie wassaying, spitefully. "It is an actual shameallowing Daisy Brooks to remain here.Uncle Jet was a mean old thing to sendher here, where there were threemarriageable young ladies. I tell you hedid it out of pure spite."

"I believe it," answered Bess, spiritedly."Every one of my beaus either hints foran introduction or asks for it outright."

"What do you tell them " questionsGertie, eagerly.

"Tell them! Why, I look exceedinglysurprised, replying: 'I do not know to

whom you refer. We have no companyat the house just now.' 'I mean thatbeautiful, golden-haired little fairy, withthe rosy cheeks and large blue eyes. Ifnot your guest, may I ask who she is ' Iam certainly compelled to answer sodirect a thrust," continued Bess, angrily;"and I ask in well-feigned wonder:'Surely you do not mean Daisy Brooks,my mother's paid companion '"

"What do they say to that " askedGertie, laughing heartily at her eldersister's ingenuity, and tossing her curlpapers until every curl threatened totumble down. "That settles it, doesn't it"

"Mercy, no!" cried Bess, raising hereyebrows; "not a bit of it. The more Isay against her in a sweet way, ofcourse the more they are determined toform her acquaintance."

"I don't see what every one can see inthat little pink-and-white baby-face ofhers to rave over so!" cried Gertie,hotly. "I can't imagine where in theworld people see her. I have as much astold her she was not expected to comeinto the parlor or drawing-room whenstrangers were there, and what do yousuppose she said "

"Cried, perhaps," said Bess, yawningwith ennui.

"She did nothing of the kind," retortedGertie. "She seized my hand, and said:'Oh, Miss Gertrude, that is very kind ofyou, indeed! I thank you ever somuch!'"

"Pshaw!" cried Bess, contemptuously."That was a trick to make you believeshe did not want to be observed by ourguests. She is a sly, designing littlecreature, with her pretty face and soft,childish ways."

"But there is one point that seriouslytroubles me," said Gertie, fastening thepink satin bow on her tiny slipper moresecurely, and breaking off the thread

with a nervous twitch. "I am seriouslyafraid, if Rex were to see her, thatwould be the end of our castle in theair. Daisy Brooks has just the face toattract a handsome, debonair youngfellow like Rex."

"You can depend upon it he shall neversee her," said Bess, decidedly. "Wherethere's a will there's a way."

"I have never been actually jealous ofanyone before," said Gertie, flushingfuriously, as she acknowledged the fact;"but that Daisy has such a way ofattracting people toward her they quiteforget your presence when she isaround. 'When one rival leaves the field,

another one is sure to come to the fore.'That's a true saying," said Gertie,meditatively. "You see, he did not marrythe heiress of Whitestone Hall. So he isstill in the market, to be captured bysome lucky girl."

"Well, if I am the lucky one, you mustforgive me, Gertie. All is fair in loveand war, you know. Besides, his wealthis too tempting to see slip quietly bywithout a struggle."

Before she could reply Eve popped inthrough the long French window thatopened out on the porch.

"Oh, I'm so tired of hearing you two

talk of lovers and riches!" she cried,throwing herself down on the sofa. "Ido hate to hear love weighed againstriches, as if it were a purchasable article.According to your ideas, if a fellow wasworth a hundred thousand, you wouldlove him moderately; but if he wasworth half a million, you could affordto love him immensely."

"You have got a sensible idea of thematter," said Bess, coolly.

"For shame!" cried Eve, in a hot fury."It's an actual sin to talk in that way. Ifa handsome young man loves you, andyou love him, why, you ought to marryhim if he hadn't a dollar in the world!"

Gertie and the worldly-wise Besslaughed at their younger sister'senthusiasm.

"Now, there's Rex Lyon, for instance,"persisted Eve, absolutely refusing to besilenced. "I would wager a box of thebest kid gloves either one of you wouldmarry him to-morrow, if he were to askyou, if he hadn't a penny in hispocket."

"Pshaw!" reiterated Gertie, and Bessmurmured something about absurdideas; but nevertheless both sisters wereblushing furiously to the very roots oftheir hair. They well knew in their

hearts what she said was perfectly true.

"Eve," said Bess, laying her handcoaxingly on the young rebel's arm,"Gertie and I want you to promise ussomething. Come, now, consent thatyou will do as we wish, that's a goodgirl."

"How can I promise before I knowwhat you want " said Eve, petulantly."You might want the man in the moon,after you've tried and failed to get hisearthly brethren, for all I know!"

"Eve, you are actually absurd!" criedBess, sharply. "This is merely a slightfavor we wish you to do."

"If you warn her not to do a thing, thatis just what she will set her heart upondoing," said Gertie, significantly.

By this time Eve's curiosity was well up.

"You may as well tell me anyhow," shesaid; "for if you don't, and I ever findout what it is, I'll do my very worst,because you kept it from me."

"Well," said Gertie, eagerly, "we wantyou to promise us not to give DaisyBrooks an introduction to Rex Lyon."

A defiant look stole over Eve'smischievous face.

"If he asks me, I'm to turn and walkoff, or I'm to say, 'No, sir, I am understrict orders from my marriageablesisters not to.' Is that what you mean "

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

"I shall not bind myself to such apromise!" cried Eve. "You are trying tospoil my pet scheme. I believe you twoare actually witches and guessed it.What put it into your heads that I hadany such intentions anyhow "

"Then you were actually thinking of

going against our interest in that way,"cried Gertie, white to the very lips, "youinsolent little minx!"

"I don't choose to remain in such politesociety," said Eve, with a mockingcourtesy, skipping toward the door. "Imay take a notion to write a little noteto Mr. Rex, inviting him over here tosee our household fairy, just as thespirit moves me."

This was really more than Gertie'swarm, southern temper could bear. Sheactually flew at the offending Eve inher rage; but Eve was nimble of footand disappeared up the stairway, threesteps at a bound.

"What a vixen our Gertie is growing tobe!" she cried, pantingly, as she reachedthe top step.

She saw a light in Daisy's room, andtapped quietly on the door.

"Is that you, Eve " cried a smotheredvoice from the pillows.

"Yes," replied Eve; "I'd like very muchto come in. May I "

For answer, Daisy opened the door, butEve stood quite still on the threshold.

"What's the matter, Daisy, have you

been crying " she demanded. "Why,your eyelids are red and swollen, andyour eyes glow like the stars. Has Gertieor Bess said anything cross to you " sheinquired, smoothing back the softgolden curls that clustered round thewhite brow.

"No," said Daisy, choking down a hardsob; "only I am very unhappy, Eve, andI feel just just as if every one in theworld hated me."

"How long have you been up here inyour room " asked Eve, suspiciously,fearing Daisy had by chance overheardthe late conversation down-stairs.

"Quite an hour," answered Daisy,truthfully.

"Then you did not hear what I wastalking about down-stairs, did you " sheinquired, anxiously.

"No," said Daisy, "you were playingover a new waltz when I cameupstairs."

"Oh," said Eve, breathing freer,thinking to herself, "She has not heardwhat we said. I am thankful for that."

"You must not talk like that, Daisy," shesaid, gayly, clasping her arms caressinglyaround the slender figure leaning

against the casement; "I predict greatthings in store for you wonderfulthings. Do not start and look at me socuriously, for I shall not tell youanything else, for it is gettingdangerously near a certain forbiddensubject. You know you warned me notto talk to you of love or lovers. I intendto have a great surprise for you. That isall I'm going to tell you now."

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

"Has any one called for me, Eve " sheasked, piteously. "Oh, Eve, tell mequickly. I have hoped against hope,

almost afraid to indulge so sweet adream. Has any one inquired for me "

Eve shook her head, sorely puzzled.

"Were you expecting any one to call "she asked. She saw the light die quicklyout of the blue eyes and the richpeachlike bloom from the delicate,dimpled cheeks. "I know something istroubling you greatly, little Daisy," shesaid, "and I sympathize with you evenif I may not share your secret."

"Every one is so cold and so cruel tome, I think I should die if I were tolose your friendship, Eve," she said.

Eve held the girl's soft white hand inhers. "You will never die, then, if youwait for that event to happen. When Ilike a person, I like them for all time. Inever could pretend a friendship I didnot feel. And I said to myself the firstmoment I saw you: 'What a sweet littlyfairy! I shall love her, I'm sure.'"

"And do you love me " asked Daisy.

"Yes," said Eve; "my friendship is alasting one. I could do almost anythingfor you."

She wondered why Daisy took her facebetween her soft little palms andlooked so earnestly down into her eyes,

and kissed her lips so repeatedly.

Poor Daisy! if she had only confided inEve reckless, impulsive, warm-hearted,sympathetic Eve it might have beenbetter for her. "No matter what youmight hear of me in the future, nomatter what fate might tempt me to do,promise me, Eve, that you, of all theworld, will believe in me, you will notlose your faith in me." The sweet voicesounded hollow and unnatural. "Thereare dark, pitiful secrets in many lives,"she said, "that drive one to the veryverge of madness in their woe. If youlove me, pray for me, Eve. My feet areon the edge of a terrible precipice."

In after years Eve never forgot thehaunted look of despair that crossedthe fair face of Daisy Brooks, as thewords broke from her lips in a piteouscry.

CHAPTER XXIV.

The announcement of Mrs. Lyon'ssudden and unexpected death causedgreat excitement and consternation thenext morning at Glengrove.

"Oh, dear!" cried Gertie, "howprovokingly unfortunate for her to diejust now! Why couldn't she have waited

until after our birthday party Of courseRex wouldn't be expected to come now;and this whole matter was arrangedespecially for him; and my beautifullilac silk is all made, and sobewitchingly lovely, too!"

"What can't be cured must be endured,you know," said Bess; "and now thebest thing to be done is to send a noteof condolence to him, extending ourdeepest sympathy, and offering him anyassistance in our power; and be sure toadd: 'We would be very pleased to haveBirdie come over here until you canmake other arrangements for her.'"

"Have Birdie here!" flashed Gertie,

angrily. "I actually think you have gonecrazy!"

"Well, there is certainly a method in mymadness," remarked Bess. "Aren't youquick-witted enough to understand thatwould be a sure way of bringing Rexover here every day he would come tosee his sister and that is quite a pointgained."

"You are rather clever, Bess; I neverthought of that."

And straightway the perfumed littlenote was dispatched, bearing Gertie'smonogram and tender-wordedsympathy to the handsome young heir,

who sat all alone in that darkenedchamber, wondering why Heaven hadbeen so unkind to him.

An hour later Bess and Gertie were inthe library arranging some newvolumes on the shelves. Mrs. Glenn satin a large easy-chair superintending theaffair, while Daisy stood at an openwindow, holding the book from whichshe had been reading aloud in herrestless fingers, her blue eyes gazingearnestly on the distant curling smokethat rose up lazily from the chimneysof Rex's home, and upon the brilliantsunshine that lighted up the easternwindows with a blaze of glory as ifthere was no such thing as death or

sorrow within those palatial walls whenRex's answer was received.

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

"It is certainly not a personal letter,"said Bess, maliciously glancing at thesuperscription. "Don't you see it isaddressed to 'Mrs. Glenn anddaughters.'"

"In a time like that people don't thinkmuch of letters," commented Mrs.

Glenn, apologetically. "Read the letteraloud, of course, my dear."

It read:

"DEAR LADIES, I thank you morethan I can express for your kindsympathy in my present sadbereavement. I would gladly haveaccepted your offer of bringing mydear little orphan sister to you, had Inot received a telegram this morningfrom Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, ofWhitestone Hall, West Virginia,announcing her intention of comingon at once, accompanied by Mrs.Corliss, to take charge of little Birdie.

"Again thanking you for the courtesyand kindness shown me, I am

"Yours very truly, "REXFORDLYON."

There was a low, gasping, piteous cry;and the little figure at the windowslipped down among the soft, billowycurtains in a deadly swoon; but thethree, so deeply engrossed in discussingthe contents of the note, did not noticeit. At last Daisy opened her eyes, andthe blue eyes were dazed with pain. Shecould hear them coupling the names ofRex and Pluma Hurlhurst. Rex herhusband!

Daisy was blind and stupefied. Shegroped rather than walked from thelibrary away from the three, whoscarcely noticed her absence.

Who cared that her heart was brokenWho cared that the cruel stab had gonehome to her tender, bleeding heart; thatthe sweet young face was whiter thanthe petals of the star-bells tossing theirwhite plumes against the casement

Slowly, blindly, with one hand graspingthe balusters, she went up the broadstaircase to her own room.

She tried to think of everything on theway except the one thing that had taken

place. She thought of the story she hadread, of a girl who was slain by havinga dagger plunged into her breast. Thegirl ran a short distance, and when thedagger was drawn from the wound, shefell down dead. In some way shefancied she was like that girl that, whenshe should reach her own room andstand face to face with her own pain,she should drop down dead.

The door was closed, and she stoodmotionless, trying to understand andrealize what she had heard.

"Have my senses deceived me " Shesaid the words over and over to herself."Did I dream it Can it even be possible

Pluma Hurlhurst is coming here,coming to the home where I shouldhave been God help me. Coming tocomfort Rex my husband!"

She could fancy the darkly beautifulface bending over him; her whitejeweled hands upon his shoulder, or,perhaps, smoothing back the bonnybrown clustering curls from his whitebrow.

"My place should have been by hisside," she continued.

It hurt and pained her to hear the nameof the man she loved dearer than lifementioned with the name of Pluma

Hurlhurst.

"Oh, Rex, my love, my love!" she criedout, "I can not bear it any longer. Thesun of my life has gone down in gloomand chill. Oh, Rex, my husband, I havenot the strength nor the courage to bearit. I am a coward. I can not give you up.We are living apart under the blue,smiling sky and the golden sun. Yet inthe sight of the angels, I am your wife."

Suddenly, the solemn bells from Rex'shome commenced tolling, and throughthe leafy branches of the trees shecaught a glimpse of a white face andbowed head, and of a proud, cold facebending caressingly over it, just as she

had pictured it in her imagination.

Dear Heaven! it was Rex and Pluma!She did not moan. She did not cry out,nor utter even a sigh. Like one turnedto marble she, the poor little misguidedchild-wife, stood watching them withan intentness verging almost intomadness.

She saw him lift his head wearily fromhis white hands, rise slowly, and then,side by side, both disappeared from thewindow.

After that Daisy never knew how themoments passed. She remembered thetidy little waiting-maid coming to her

and asking if she would please comedown to tea. She shook her head butno sound issued from the white lips,and the maid went softly away, closingthe door behind her.

Slowly the sun sunk in the west in agreat red ball of fire. The light died outof the sky, and the song birds trilledtheir plaintive good-night songs in thesoft gloaming. Still Daisy sat with herhands crossed in her lap, gazing intentlyat 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 see you. Are youhere, Daisy Brooks "

"Yes," said Daisy, controlling her voiceby a violent effort. "Won't you sit downI will light the gas."

"Oh, no, indeed!" cried Gertie. "I cameup to ask you if you would please sewa little on my ball dress to-night. I cannot use it just now; still, there is noneed of putting it away half finished."

Sew on a ball dress while her heart wasbreaking! Oh, how could she do itQuietly she followed Gertie to herpretty little blue and gold boudoir,making no remonstrance. She was to

sew on a ball dress while the heiress ofWhitestone Hall was consoling heryoung husband in his bitter sorrow

The shimmering billows of silk seemedswimming before her eyes, and thefrost-work of seed-pearls to waverthrough the blinding tears that wouldforce themselves to her eyes. Eve wasnot there. How pitifully lonely poorDaisy felt! The face, bent so patientlyover the lilac silk, had a strange storywritten upon it. But the two girls,discussing the events of the day, didnot glance once in her direction; theirthoughts and conversation were of thehandsome young heiress and Rex.

"For once in your life you were wrong,"said Bess. "The way affairs appear nowdoes not look much like a broken-offmarriage, I can assure you."

"Those who have seen her say she ispeculiarly beautiful and fascinating,though cold, reserved, and as haughtyas a queen," said Gertie.

"Cold and reserved," sneered Bess. "Iguess you would not have thought soif you had been at the drawing-roomwindow to-day and seen her bendingover Rex so lovingly. I declare Iexpected every moment to see her kisshim."

The box which held the seed-pearlsdropped to the floor with a crash, andthe white, glistening beads werescattered about in all directions.

"Why, what a careless creature you are,Daisy Brooks!" cried Gertie, in dismay."Just see what you have done! Half ofthem will be lost, and what is not lostwill be smashed, and I had just enoughto finish that lily on the front breadthand twine among the blossoms for myhair. What do you suppose I'm going todo now, you provoking girl It is actuallyenough to make one cry."

"I am so sorry," sighed Daisy, piteously.

"Sorry! Will that bring back my seed-pearls I have half a mind to makemamma deduct the amount from yoursalary."

"You may have it all if it will onlyreplace them," said Daisy, earnestly. "Ithink, though, I have gathered them allup."

A great, round tear rolled off from herlong, silky eyelashes and into the veryheart of the frosted lily over which shebent, but the lily's petals seemed toclose about it, leaving no trace of itspresence.

Bessie and Gertie openly discussed

their chagrin and keen disappointment,yet admitting what a handsome coupleRex and Pluma made he so courteousand noble, she so royal and queenly.

"Of course we must call upon her ifshe is to be Rex's wife," said Gertie,spitefully. "I foresee she will beexceedingly popular."

"We must also invite her to Glengrove,"said Bess, thoughtfully. "It is the leastwe can do, and it is expected of us. Iquite forgot to mention one of theirservants was telling Jim both Rex andlittle Birdie intend to accompany MissHurlhurst back to Whitestone Hall assoon after the funeral as matters can be

arranged."

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

"Most probably," said Bess. "You oughtcertainly to send over your note thisevening it is very early yet."

"There is no one to send," said Gertie."Jim has driven over to Natchez, andthere is no one else to go."

"Perhaps Daisy will go for you,"suggested Bess.

There was no need of being jealous now

of Daisy's beauty in that direction.Gertie gladly availed herself of thesuggestion.

"Daisy," she said, turning abruptly tothe quivering little figure, whose facedrooped over the lilac silk, "never mindfinishing that dress to-night. I wish youto take a note over to the large graystone house yonder, and be sure todeliver it to Mr. Rex Lyon himself."

CHAPTER XXV.

Gertie Glenn never forgot thedespairing cry that broke from Daisy's

white lips as she repeated hercommand:

"I wish you to deliver this note to Mr.Rex Lyon himself."

"Oh, Miss Gertie," she cried, claspingher hands together in an agony ofentreaty, "I can not oh, indeed I cannot! Ask anything of me but that and Iwill gladly do it!"

Both girls looked at her in sheerastonishment.

"What is the reason you can not " criedGertie, in utter amazement. "I do notcomprehend you."

"I I can not take the note," she said, ina frightened whisper. "I do not I "

She stopped short in utter confusion.

"I choose you shall do just as I bidyou," replied Gertie, in her imperious,scornful anger. "It really seems to meyou forget your position here, MissBrooks. How dare you refuse me "

Opposition always strengthenedGertie's decision, and she determinedDaisy should take her note to Rex Lyonat all hazards.

The eloquent, mute appeal in the blue

eyes raised to her own was utterly loston her.

"The pride of these dependentcompanions is something ridiculous,"she went on, angrily. "You consideryourself too fine, I suppose, to bemade a messenger of." Gertie laughedaloud, a scornful, mocking laugh."Pride and poverty do not work verywell together. You may go to yourroom now and get your hat and shawl.I shall have the letter written in a veryfew minutes. There will be no useappealing to mamma. You ought toknow by this time we overrule herobjections always."

It was too true, Mrs. Glenn never hadmuch voice in a matter where Bess orGertie had decided the case.

Like one in a dream Daisy turned fromthem. She never remembered how shegained her own room. With cold,tremulous fingers she fastened her hat,tucking the bright golden hair carefullybeneath her veil, and threw her shawlover her shoulders, just as Gertieapproached, letter in hand.

"You need not go around by the mainroad," she said, "there is a much nearerpath leading down to the stone wall.You need not wait for an answer: therewill be none. The servants over there

are awkward, blundering creatures donot trust it to them you must deliver itto Rex himself."

"I make one last appeal to you, MissGertie. Indeed, it is not pride thatprompts me. I could not bear it. Havepity on me. You are gentle and kind toothers; please, oh, please be merciful tome!"

"I have nothing more to say upon thesubject I have said you were to go. Youact as if I were sending you to someplace where you might catch the scarletfever or the mumps. You amuse me;upon my word you do. Rex is notdangerous, neither is he a Bluebeard;

his only fault is being alarminglyhandsome. The best advice I can giveyou is, don't admire him too much. Heshould be labeled, 'Out of the market.'"

Gertie tripped gayly from the room, hercrimson satin ribbons fluttering afterher, leaving a perceptible odor ofviolets in the room, while Daisyclutched the note in her cold, nervousgrasp, walking like one in a terribledream through the bright patches ofglittering moonlight, through the sweet-scented, rose-bordered path, onthrough the dark shadows of the treestoward the home of Rex her husband.

A soft, brooding silence lay over the

sleeping earth as Daisy, with a sinkingheart, drew near the house. Her softfootfalls on the green mossy earthmade no sound.

Silently as a shadow she crept up to theblossom-covered porch; some one wasstanding there, leaning against the verypillar around which she had twined herarms as she watched Rex's shadow onthe roses.

The shifting moonbeams pierced thewhite, fleecy clouds that envelopedthem, and as he turned his face towardher she saw it was Rex. She couldalmost have reached out her hand andtouched him from where she stood.

She was sorely afraid her face or hervoice might startle him if she spoke tohim suddenly.

"I do not need to speak," she thought."I will go up to him and lay the letter inhis hand."

Then a great intense longing came overher to hear his voice and know that hewas speaking to her. She had quitedecided to pursue this course, when therustle of a silken garment fell upon herear. She knew the light tread of theslippered feet but too well it wasPluma. She went up to him in her usualcaressing fashion, laying her white handon his arm.

"Do you know you have been standinghere quite two hours, Rex, watching theshadows of the vine-leaves I havelonged to come up and ask you whatinterest those dancing shadows had foryou, but I could not make up my mindto disturb you. I often fancy you do notknow how much time you spend inthought."

Pluma was wondering if he wasthinking of that foolish, romantic fancythat had come so near separating themhis boyish fancy for Daisy Brooks, theiroverseer's niece. No, surely not. Hemust have forgotten her long ago.

"These reveries seem to have growninto a habit with me," he said, dreamily;"almost a second nature, of late. If youwere to come and talk to me at suchtimes, you would break me of it."

The idea pleased her. A bright flushrose to her face, and she made himsome laughing reply, and he lookeddown upon her with a kindly smile.

Oh! the torture of it to the poor youngwife standing watching them, withheart on fire in the deep shadow of thecrimson-hearted passion-flowers thatquivered on the intervening vines. Theletter she held in her hand slipped fromher fingers into the bushes all

unheeded. She had but one thoughtshe must get away. The very air seemedto stifle her; her heart seemed numb anicy band seemed pressing round it, andher poor forehead was burning hot. Itdid not matter much where she went,nobody loved her, nobody cared forher. As softly as she came, she glideddown the path that led to the entrance-gate beyond. She passed through themoonlighted grounds, where the musicand fragrance of the summer night wasat its height. The night wind stirred thepink clover and the blue-bells beneathher feet. Her eyes were hot and dry;tears would have been a world of reliefto her, but none came to her parchedeyelids.

She paid little heed to the direction shetook. One idea alone took possessionof her she must get away.

"If I could only go back to dear oldUncle John," she sighed. "His love hasnever failed me."

It seemed long years back since she hadromped with him, a happy, merry child,over the cotton fields, and he had calledher his sunbeam during all those yearswhen no one lived at Whitestone Halland the wild ivy climbed riotously overthe windows and doors. Even Septima'svoice would have sounded so sweet toher. She would have lived over again

those happy, childish days, if she onlycould. She remembered how Septimawould send her to the brook for water,and how she sprinkled every flower inthe path-way that bore her name; andhow Septima would scold her when shereturned with her bucket scarce halffull; and how she had loved to dreamaway those sunny summer days, lyingunder the cool, shady trees, listening tothe songs the robins sang as theyglanced down at her with their littlesparkling eyes.

How she had dreamed of the gallantyoung hero who was to come to hersome day. She had wondered how shewould know him, and what were the

words he first would say! If he wouldcome riding by, as the judge did when"Maud Muller stood in the hay-fields;"and she remembered, too, the story of"Rebecca at the Well." A weary smileflitted over her face as she rememberedwhen she went to the brook she hadalways put on her prettiest blueribbons, in case she might meet herhero.

Oh, those sweet, bright, rosy dreams ofgirlhood! What a pity it is they do notlast forever! Those girlish dreams,where glowing fancy reigns supreme,and the prosaic future is all unknown.She remembered her meeting with Rex,how every nerve in her whole being

thrilled, and how she had felt hercheeks grow flaming hot, just as shehad read they would do when she metthe right one. That was how she hadknown Rex was the right one when shehad shyly glanced up, from under herlong eyelashes, into the gay, brownhazel eyes, fixed upon her soquizzically, as he took the heavy basketfrom her slender arms, that never-to-be-forgotten June day, beneath theblossoming magnolia-tree.

Poor child! her life had been a sadromance since then. How strange it wasshe was fleeing from the younghusband whom she had married andwas so quickly parted from!

All this trouble had come aboutbecause she had so courageouslyrescued her letter from Mme. Whitney.

"If he had not bound me to secrecy, Icould have have cried out before thewhole world I was his wife," shethought.

A burning flush rose to her face as shethought how cruelly he had suspectedher, this poor little child-bride who hadnever known one wrong or sinfulthought in her pure, innocent younglife.

If he had only given her the chance of

explaining how she had happened to bethere with Stanwick; if they had takenher back she must have confessedabout the letter and who Rex was andwhat he was to her.

Even Stanwick's persecution found anexcuse in her innocent, unsuspectinglittle heart.

"He sought to save me from beingtaken back when he called me his wife,"she thought. "He believed I was free towoo and win, because I dared not tellhim I was Rex's wife." Yet the thoughtof Stanwick always brought a shudderto her pure young mind. She could notunderstand why he would have

resorted to such desperate means togain an unwilling bride.

"Not yet seventeen. Ah, what a sadlove-story hers had been. How cruellylove's young dream had been blighted,"she told herself; and yet she would nothave exchanged that one thrilling,ecstatic moment of rapture when Rexhad clasped her in his arms andwhispered: "My darling wife," for awhole lifetime of calm happiness withany one else.

On and on she walked through theviolet-studded grass, thinking thinking.Strange fancies came thronging to heroverwrought brain. She pushed her veil

back from her face and leaned againstthe trunk of a tree; her brain was dizzyand her thoughts were confused; thevery stars seemed dancing riotously inthe blue sky above her, and thebranches of the trees were whisperingstrange fancies. Suddenly a horseman,riding a coal-black charger, camecantering swiftly up the long avenue oftrees. He saw the quiet figure standingleaning against the drooping branches.

"I will inquire the way," he said tohimself, drawing rein beside her. "Canyou tell me, madame, if this is the mostdirect road leading to Glengrove andthat vicinity I am looking for a hostelrynear it. I seem to have lost my way. Will

you kindly direct me " he asked, "or tothe home of Mr. Rex Lyon "

The voice sounded strangely familiar toDaisy. She was dimly conscious someone was speaking to her. She raised herface up and gazed at the speaker. Thecold, pale moonlight fell full upon it,clearly revealing its strange, unearthlywhiteness, and the bright flashing eyes,gazing dreamily past the terror-strickenman looking down on her, with white,livid lips and blanched, horror-strickenface. His eyes almost leaped from theirsockets in abject terror, as LesterStanwick gazed on the upturned faceby the roadside.

"My God, do I dream " he cried,clutching at the pommel of his saddle."Is this the face of Daisy Brooks, or isit a specter, unable to sleep in thedepths of her tomb, come back tohaunt me for driving her to her doom "

CHAPTER XXVI.

Rex and Pluma talked for some timeout in the moonlight, then Rex excusedhimself, and on the plea of havingimportant business letters to writeretired to the library.

For some minutes Pluma leaned

thoughtfully against the railing. Thenight was still and clear; the moonhung over the dark trees; floods ofsilvery light bathed the waters of theglittering sea, the sleeping flowers andthe grass, and on the snowy orange-blossoms and golden fruit amid thegreen foliage.

"I shall always love this fair southernhome," she thought, a bright lightcreeping into her dark, dazzling eyes. "Iam Fortune's favorite," she said, slowly."I shall have the one great prize I covetmost on earth. I shall win Rex at last. Iwonder at the change in him. There wasa time when I believed he loved me.Could it be handsome, refined,

courteous Rex had more than a passingfancy for Daisy Brooks simple,unpretentious Daisy Brooks ThankGod she is dead!" she cried,vehemently. "I would have periled myvery soul to have won him."

Even as the thought shaped itself inher mind, a dark form steppedcautiously forward.

She was not startled; a passing wonderas to who it might be struck her. Shedid not think much about it; a shadowin the moonlight did not frighten her.

"Pluma!" called a low, cautious voice,"come down into the garden; I must

speak with you. It is I, LesterStanwick."

In a single instant the soft love-lighthad faded from her face, leaving it cold,proud, and pitiless. A vague, namelessdread seized her. She was a courageousgirl; she would not let him know it.

"The mad fool!" she cried, clinching herwhite jeweled hands together. "Whydoes he follow me here What shall I doI must buy him off at any cost. I darenot defy him. Better temporize withhim." She muttered the words aloud,and she was shocked to see howchanged and hoarse her own voicesounded. "Women have faced more

deadly peril than this," she muttered,"and cleverly outwitted ingenious foes.I must win by stratagem."

She quickly followed the tall figuredown the path that divided the littlegarden from the shrubbery.

"I knew you would not refuse me,Pluma," he said, clasping her hands andkissing her cold lips. He noticed theglance she gave him had nothing in itbut coldness and annoyance. "You donot tell me you are pleased to see me,Pluma, and yet you have promised tobe my wife." She stood perfectly stillleaning against an oleander-tree. "Whydon't you speak to me, Pluma " he

cried. "By Heaven! I am almostbeginning to mistrust you. Youremember your promise," he said,hurriedly "if I removed the overseer'sniece from your path you were toreward me with your heart and hand."She would have interrupted him, buthe silenced her with a gesture. "Yousaid your love for Rex had turned tobitter hatred. You found he loved thegirl, and that would be a gloriousrevenge. I did not have to resort toabducting her from the seminary as wehad planned. The bird flew into mygrasp. I would have placed her in theasylum you selected, but she eluded meby leaping into the pit. I have beenhaunted by her face night and day ever

since. I see her face in crowds, in thedepths of the silent forest, her specterappears before me until I fly from itlike one accursed."

She could not stay the passionatetorrent of his words.

"Lester, this is all a mistake," she said;"you have not given me a chance tospeak." Her hands dropped nervouslyby her side. There were fierce, rebelliousthoughts in her heart, but she dare notgive them utterance. "What have I doneto deserve all this " she asked, trying toassume a tender tone she was far fromfeeling.

"What have you done " he cried,hoarsely. "Why, I left you at WhitestoneHall, feeling secure in the belief that Ihad won you. Returning suddenly andunexpectedly, I found you had gone toFlorida, to the home of Rex Lyon. Doyou know what I would have done,Pluma, if I had found you his wife andfalse to your trust "

"You forget yourself, Lester," she said;"gentlemen never threaten women."

He bit his lip angrily.

"There are extreme cases ofdesperation," 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 hiseyes, and trembled under her studiedcomposure; yet not the quiver of aneyelid betrayed her emotion. She hadnot meant to quarrel with him; for oncein her life she forgot her prudence.

"Suppose that, by exercise of anypower you think you possess, youcould really compel me to be your wife,do you think it would benefit you Iwould learn to despise you. Whatwould you gain by it "

The answer sprung quickly to his lips:

"The one great point for which I amstriving possession of WhitestoneHall;" but he was too diplomatic toutter the words. She saw a lurid light inhis eyes.

"You shall be my wife," he said,gloomily. "If you have been cherishingany hope of winning Rex Lyon,abandon it at once. As a last resort, Iwould explain to him how cleverly youremoved the pretty little girl he lovedfrom his path."

"You dare not!" she cried, white to thevery lips. "You have forgotten yourown share in that little affair. Whowould believe you acted upon a

woman's bidding You would soon becalled to account for it. You forget thatlittle circumstance, Lester; you dare notgo to Rex!" He knew what she said wasperfectly true. He had not intendedgoing to Rex; he knew it would be asmuch as his life was worth toencounter him. He was aware his namehad been coupled with Daisy's in thejournals which had described her tragicdeath. He knew Rex had fallen madly,desperately in love with little DaisyBrooks, but he did not dream he hadmade her his wife. "You have not givenme time to explain why I am here."

"I have heard all about it," he answered,impatiently; "but I do not understand

why they sent for you."

"Mrs. Lyon requested it," she replied,quietly. "Rex simply obeyed her wishes."

"Perhaps she looked upon you as herfuture daughter-in-law," sneered Lester,covertly. "I have followed you toFlorida to prevent it; I would followyou to the ends of the earth to preventit! A promise to me can not be lightlybroken."

Not a feature of that proud facequivered 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 andshivering as if with cold. "I must goback to the house now; some onemight miss me."

He made no reply. The wind bent thereeds, and the waves of the sea dashedup on the distant beach with a long,low wash. He was wondering how farshe was to be trusted.

"You may have perfect confidence inme, Lester," she said; "my word oughtto be sufficient," as if quite divining histhoughts. "You need have no fear; I willbe true to you."

"I shall remain away until this affair hasblown over," he replied. "I can live aswell in one part of the country asanother, thanks to the income my fatherleft me." He laid great stress on the lastsentence; he wanted to impress her withthe fact that he had plenty of money."She must never know," he toldhimself, "that he had so riotouslysquandered the vast inheritance thathad been left him, and he was standingon the verge of ruin." A marriage withthe wealthy heiress would save him atthe eleventh hour. "I will trust you,Pluma," he continued. "I know, youwill keep your vow."

The false ring of apparent candor did

not deceive her; she knew it would be acase of diamond cut diamond.

"That is spoken like your own generousself, Lester," she said, softly, clasping hishands in her own white, jeweled ones."You pained me by your distrust."

He saw she was anxious to get awayfrom him, and he bit his lip withvexation; her pretty, coaxing manner didnot deceive him one whit, yet heclasped his arms in a very lover-likefashion around her as he replied:

"Forget that it ever existed, my darling.Where there is such ardent, passionatelove, there is always more or less

jealousy and fear. Do you realize I ammaking an alien of myself for yoursweet sake I could never refuse you arequest. Your slightest will has been mylaw. Be kind to me, Pluma."

She did try to be more than agreeableand fascinating.

"I must remove all doubts from hismind," she thought. "I shall probablybe Rex's wife when we meet again.Then his threats will be useless; I willscornfully deny it. He has no proofs."

She talked to him so gracefully, sotenderly, at times, he was almosttempted to believe she actually cared

for him more than she would admit.Still he allowed it would do no harm tokeep a strict watch of her movements.

"Good-bye, Pluma, dearest," he said, "Ishall keep you constantly advised ofmy whereabouts. As soon as matterscan be arranged satisfactorily, I amcoming 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 aredangerous," she thought, walkingslowly up the broad path toward the

house.

* * * * *

Slowly the long hours of the nightdragged themselves by, yet Daisy didnot return to Glengrove. The hourslengthened into days, and days intoweeks, still there was no trace of her tobe found. Gertie's explanation readilyaccounted for her absence.

"She preferred to leave us rather thandeliver my note," she said, angrily; "andI for one am not sorry she has gone."

"Rex did not mention having receivedit," said Bess, "when he came with

Birdie to bid us good-bye."

"She probably read it and destroyed it,"said Gertie, "Well, there was nothing init very particular. Toward the last of it Imentioned I would send the note overby Daisy Brooks, my mother'scompanion. More than likely she tookumbrage 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 ifshe had not read it," replied Gertie."You must admit that."

Mrs. Glenn felt sorely troubled. In theshort time Daisy had been with her shehad put unlimited confidence in her.

No one thought of searching for her;they all accepted the facts as the casepresented itself to them. Daisy hadcertainly left them of her own free will.

Eve alone felt distressed.

"I know everything looks that way, butI shall never believe it," she cried.

She remembered the conversation shehad so lately had with Daisy. How shehad clasped her loving little arms abouther neck, crying out:

"Pray for me, Eve. I am sorely tried. Myfeet are on the edge of a precipice. Nomatter what I may be tempted to do, donot lose faith in me, Eve; always believein me."

Poor little Daisy! what was the secretsorrow that was goading her on tomadness Would she ever know

Where was she now Ah, who could tell

A curious change seemed to come overromping, mischievous, merry Eve; shehad grown silent and thoughtful.

"I could never believe any one in this

world was true or pure again if Ithought for one moment deceit laybrooding in a face so fair as little DaisyBrooks's."

CHAPTER XXVII.

The months flew quickly by; the coldwinter had slipped away, and the brightgreen grass and early violets weresprinkling the distant hill-slopes. Thecrimson-breasted robins were singingin the budding branches of the trees,and all Nature reminded one theglorious spring had come.

Rex Lyon stood upon the porch ofWhitestone Hall gazing up at the white,fleecy clouds that scudded over theblue sky, lost in deep thought.

He was the same handsome, debonairRex, but ah, how changed! The merry,laughing brown eyes looked silent andgrave enough now, and the lips thedrooping brown mustache coveredrarely smiled. Even his voice seemed tohave a deeper tone.

He had done the one thing thatmorning which his mother had askedhim to do with her dying breath he hadasked Pluma Hurlhurst to be his wife.

The torture of the task seemed to growupon him as the weeks rolled by, and indesperation he told himself he mustsettle the matter at once, or he wouldnot have the strength to do it.

He never once thought what he shoulddo with his life after he married her. Hetried to summon up courage to tell herthe story of his marriage, that hishopes, his heart, and his love all lay inthe grave of his young wife. Poor Rex,he could not lay bare that sweet, sadsecret; he could not have borne herquestions, her wonder, her remarks, andhave lived; his dead love was far toosacred for that; he could not take thetreasured love-story from his heart and

hold it up to public gaze. It would havebeen easier for him to tear the living,beating heart from his breast than to dothis.

He had walked into the parlor thatmorning, where he knew he shouldfind Pluma. She was standing beforethe fire. Although it was early spring themornings were chilly, and a cheerful fireburned in the grate, throwing a bright,glowing radiance over the room andover the exquisite morning toilet ofwhite cashmere, with its white lace frills,relieved here and there with coquettishdashes of scarlet blossoms, whichPluma wore, setting off her gracefulfigure to such queenly advantage.

Rex looked at her, at the imperiousbeauty any man might have been proudto win, secretly hoping she wouldrefuse him.

"Good-morning, Rex," she said,holding out her white hands to him. "Iam glad you have come to talk to me. Iwas watching you walking up anddown under the trees, and you lookedso lonely I half made up my mind tojoin you."

A lovely color was deepening in hercheeks, and her eyes drooped shyly. Hebroke right into the subject at oncewhile he had the courage to do it.

"I have something to say to you,Pluma," he began, leading her to anadjacent sofa and seating himselfbeside her. "I want to ask you if youwill be my wife." He looked perhapsthe more confused of the two. "I willdo my best to make you happy," hecontinued. "I can not say that I willmake a model husband, but I will say Iwill do my best."

There was a minute's silence, awkwardenough for both.

"You have asked me to be your wife,Rex, but you have not said one word ofloving me."

The remark was so unexpected Rexseemed for a few moments to beunable to reply to it. Looking at theeager, expectant face turned towardhim, it appeared ungenerous andunkind not to give her one affectionateword. Yet he did not know how to sayit; he had never spoken a loving wordto any one except Daisy, his fair littlechild-bride.

He tried hard to put the memory ofDaisy away from him as he answered:

"The question is so important thatmost probably I have thought more ofit than of any words which should go

with it."

"Oh, that is it," returned Pluma, with awistful little laugh. "Most men, whenthey ask women to marry them, saysomething of love, do they not "

"Yes," he replied, absently.

"You have had no experience," laughedPluma, archly.

She was sorely disappointed. She hadgone over in her own imagination thisvery scene a thousand times, of thesupreme moment he would clasp hisarms around her, telling her in glowing,passionate words how dearly he loved

her and how wretched his life would bewithout her. He did nothing of thekind.

Rex was thinking he would have givenanything to have been able to makelove to her anything for the power ofsaying tender words she looked soloving.

Her dark, beautiful face was so nearhim, and her graceful figure so close,that he could have wound his armaround her, but he did not. In spite ofevery resolve, he thought of Daisy thewhole time. How different that otherlove-making had been! How his heartthrobbed, and every endearing name he

could think of trembled on his lips, ashe strained Daisy to his heart when shehad bashfully consented to be his wife!

That love-making was real substance;this one only the shadow of love.

"You have not answered my question,Pluma. Will you be my wife "

Pluma raised her dark, beautiful face,radiant with the light of love, to his.

"If I consent will you promise to loveme better than anything else or any onein the wide world "

"I will devote my whole life to you,

study your every wish," he answered,evasively.

How was she to know he had given allhis heart to Daisy

She held out her hands to him with acharming gesture of affection. He tookthem and kissed them; he could doneither more nor less.

"I will be your wife, Rex," she said, witha tremulous, wistful sigh.

"Thank you, Pluma," he returned,gently, bending down and kissing thebeautiful crimson lips; "you shall neverregret it. You are so kind, I am going to

impose on your good nature. You havepromised me you will be my wife whenmay I claim you, Pluma "

"Do you wish it to be soon " she asked,hesitatingly, wondering how he wouldanswer her.

"Yes," he said, absently; "the sooner it isover the better I shall be pleased."

She looked up into his face, at a losshow to interpret the words.

"You shall set the day, Rex," she replied.

"I have your father's consent that it maytake place just as soon as possible, in

case you promised to marry me," hesaid. "Suppose it takes place in afortnight, say will that be too soon foryou "

She gave a little scream of surprise. "Assoon as that " she murmured; butended by readily consenting.

He thanked her and kissed her oncemore. After a few quiet words theyparted she, happy in the glamour ofher love-dream; he, praying to Heavenfrom the depths of his miserable heart,to give him strength to carry out therash vow which had been wrung fromhis unwilling lips.

In his heart Rex knew no one but Daisycould ever reign. Dead, he was devotedto her memory.

His life was narrowing down. He wasall kindness, consideration anddevotion; but the one supreme magnetof all love was wanting.

In vain Pluma exerted all her wondrouspowers of fascination to win him morecompletely. How little he dreamed ofthe depths of love which controlledthat passionate heart, every throb ofwhich was for him that to have wonfrom him one token of warm affectionshe would have given all she held dearin this world.

"How does it happen, Rex," she asked,one evening, "you have not asked me tosing to you since you have asked me tobe your wife Music used to be such abond of sympathy between us."

There was both love and reproach inher voice. He heard neither. He hadsimply forgotten it.

"I have been thinking of other things, Ipresume. Allow me to make up for it atonce, however, by asking you if youwill sing for me now."

The tears came to her dark, flashingeyes, but she forced them bravely back.

She had hoped he would clasp her inhis arms, whispering some sweetcompliment, then say to her "Darling,won't you sing to me now "

She swept toward the piano with the airof a queen.

"I want you to sit where I can see you,Rex," she demanded, prettily; "I like towatch your face when I sing you myfavorite songs."

Rex drew his chair up close to thepiano, laying his head back dreamilyagainst the crimson cushions. Hewould not be obliged to talk; for oncejust once he would let his fancies roam

where they would. He had often heardPluma sing before, but never in the wayshe sung to-night. A low, thrilling,seductive voice full of pleading,passionate tenderness a voice thatwhispered of the sweet irresistiblepower of love, that carried away thehearts of her listeners as a strongcurrent carries a leaflet.

Was it a dream, or was it the night windbreathing the name of Daisy The tearsrose in his eyes, and he started to hisfeet, pale and trembling with agitation.Suddenly the music ceased.

"I did not think such a simple littlemelody had power to move you," she

said.

"Is it a new song " he asked. "I do notremember having heard it before. Whatis the title of it "

He did not notice her face had grownslightly pale under the soft, pearly lightof the gleaming lamps, as she held themusic out toward him.

"It is a pretty title," she said, in her low,musical voice, "'Daisies Growing o'ermy Darling's Grave.'"

In the terrible look of agony that sweptover his handsome face, Pluma read thesecret of his life; the one secret she had

dreaded stood as clearly revealed to heras though it had been stamped inglowing letters upon his brow. Shewould have stood little chance of beingRex's wife if Daisy Brooks had lived.

Who would have dreamed thebeautiful, proud young heiress couldhave cursed the very memory of theyoung girl whom she believed to bedead lying all uncared for in aneglected, lonely grave

Rex felt sorely disturbed. He neverremembered how the remainder of theevening passed. Ah, heavens! how hismind wandered back to that sweet love-dream so cruelly broken. A mist as of

tears spread before his eyes, and shutthe whole world from him as heglanced out of the window and up atthe star-gemmed sky that was hisDaisy's home.

"I hope my little song has not cast agloom over you, Rex " she said, holdingout her hands to him as she arose tobid him good-night those small whitehands upon one of which hisengagement-ring glowed with athousand prismatic hues.

"Why should it " he asked, attemptingto laugh lightly. "I admired it perhapsmore than any other I have ever heardyou sing."

Pluma well knew why.

"It was suggested to me by a strangeoccurrence. Shall I relate it to you, Rex"

He made some indistinct answer, littledreaming of how wofully the littleanecdote would affect him.

"I do not like to bring up old,unpleasant subjects, Rex. But do youremember what the only quarrel weever had was about, or rather who it wasabout "

He looked at her in surprise; he had not

the least idea of what she alluded to.

"Do you remember what a romanticinterest you once took in our overseer'sniece the one who eloped with LesterStanwick from boarding-school the onewhose death we afterward read of Hername was Daisy Daisy Brooks."

If she had suddenly plunged a daggerinto his heart with her white jeweledhands he could not have been morecruelly startled. He could have criedaloud with the sharp pain ofunutterable anguish that memorybrought him. His answer was a bow; hedared not look up lest the haggard painof his face should betray him.

"Her uncle (he was no relation, Ibelieve, but she called him that) wasmore fond of her than words canexpress. I was driving along by anunfrequented road to-day when I cameacross a strange, pathetic sight. Thepoor old man was putting the lasttouches to a plain wooden cross he hadjust erected under a magnolia-tree,which bore the simple words: 'To thememory of Daisy Brooks, aged sixteenyears.' Around the cross the grass wasthickly sown with daisies.

"'She does not rest here,' the old mansaid, drawing his rough sleeve acrosshis tear-dimmed eyes; 'but the poor

little girl loved this spot best of any.'"

Pluma wondered why Rex took her justthen in his arms for the first time andkissed her. He was thanking her in hisheart; he could have knelt to her for thekind way she had spoken of Daisy.

A little later he was standing by theopen window of his own room in themoonlight.

"My God!" he cried, burying his face inhis hands, "this poor John Brooks didwhat I, her husband, should have done;but it is not too late now. I shall honoryour memory, my darling; I shall have acostly marble monument erected to

your memory, bearing the inscription:'Sacred to the memory of Daisy,beloved wife of Rex Lyon, aged sixteenyears.' Not Daisy Brooks, but DaisyLyon. Mother is dead, what can secrecyavail now "

He would not tell Pluma until the lastmoment. Straightway he ordered amagnificent monument from Baltimoreone of pure unblemished white, withan angel with drooping wingsoverlooking the tall white pillar.

When it arrived he meant to take Plumathere, and, reverently kneeling downbefore her, tell her all the story of hissweet, sad love-dream with his face

pressed close against the cold, pulselessmarble tell her of the love-dream whichhad left him but the ashes of deadhope. He sealed the letter and placed itwith the out-going morning mail.

"Darling, how I wish I had not partedfrom you that night!" he sighed.

How bitterly he regretted he could notlive that one brief hour of his past lifeover again how differently he wouldact!

CHAPTER XXVIII.

While Rex was penning his all-important letter in his room, Pluma waswalking restlessly to and fro in herboudoir, conning over in her mind theevents of the evening.

Rex had asked her to be his wife, butshe stood face to face with the truth atlast he did not love her. It was not onlya blow of the keenest and cruelest kindto her affection, but it was the cruelestblow her vanity could possibly havereceived.

To think that she, the wealthy, pettedheiress, who counted her admirers bythe score, should have tried so hard towin the love of this one man and have

failed; that her beauty, her grace, herwit, and her talent had been lavishedupon him, and lavished in vain. "Wasthat simple girl, with her shy, timid,shrinking manner, more lovable than I" she asked herself, incredulously.

She could not realize it she, whosename was on the lips of men, whopraised her as the queen of beauty, andwhom fair women envied as one whohad but to will to win.

It seemed to her a cruel mockery offate that she, who had everything theworld could give beauty and fortuneshould ask but this one gift, and that itshould be refused her the love of the

man who had asked her to be his wife.

Was it impossible that he should learnto love her

She told herself that she should takecourage, that she would persevere, thather great love must in time prevail.

"I must never let him find me dull orunhappy," she thought. "I mustcarefully hide all traces of pique orannoyance."

She would do her best to entertain him,and make it the study of her life to winhis love.

She watched the stars until they fadedfrom the skies, then buried her face inher pillow, falling into an uneasyslumber, through which a beautiful,flower-like, girlish face floated, and aslight, delicate form knelt at her feetholding her arms out imploringly,sobbing out:

"Do not take him from me he is myworld I love him!"

And with a heart racked by terriblejealousy, Pluma turned uneasily on herpillow and opened her eyes. The starswere still glimmering in themoonlighted sky.

"Is the face of Daisy Brooks ever tohaunt me thus " she cried out,impatiently. "How was I to know shewas to die " she muttered, excitedly. "Isimply meant to have Stanwick abducther from the seminary that Rex mightbelieve him her lover and turn to mefor sympathy. I will not think of it," shecried; "I am not one to flinch from acourse of action I have marked out formyself, no matter what theconsequences may be, if I only gainRex'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, waswatching the stars, as wakeful as she,thinking of the past.

Then he prayed Heaven to help him, sothat no unworthy thought should enterhis mind. After that he slept, and oneof the most painful days of his life wasended.

The days at Whitestone Hall flew by onrapid wings in a round of gayety. TheHall was crowded with young folks,who were to remain until after themarriage. Dinner parties were followedby May-pole dances out on the greenlawns, and by charades and balls in theevening. The old Hall had never echoed

with such frolicsome mirth before. Rexplunged into the excitement withstrange zest. No one guessed thatbeneath his winning, careless smile hisheart was almost breaking.

One morning Pluma was standingalone on the vine-covered terrace,waiting for Rex, who had gone out totry a beautiful spirited horse that hadjust been added to the stables ofWhitestone Hall. She noticed he hadtaken the unfrequented road themagnolia-trees shaded. That fact boreno significance, certainly; still there wasa strong feeling of jealousy in her heartas she remembered that little woodencross he would be obliged to pass.

Would he stop there She could not tell.

"How I love him and how foolish Iam!" she laughed, nervously. "I have norival, yet I am jealous of his verythoughts, lest they dwell on any oneelse but myself. I do not see how it is,"she said, thoughtfully, to herself, "whypeople laugh at love, and think itweakness or a girl's sentimental folly.Why, it is the strongest of humanpassions!"

She heard people speak of herapproaching marriage as "a grandmatch" she heard him spoken of as awealthy Southerner, and she laughed aproud, happy, rippling laugh. She was

marrying Rex for love; she had givenhim the deepest, truest love of herheart.

Around a bend in the terrace she heardapproaching footsteps and the ripplingof girlish laughter.

"I can not have five minutes to myselfto think," she said to herself, drawinghastily back behind the thick screen ofleaves until they should pass. She didnot feel in the humor just then to listento Miss Raynor's chatter or pretty GraceAlden's gossip.

"Of course every one has a right totheir own opinion," Grace was saying,

with a toss of her pretty nut-browncurls, "and I, for one, do not believe hecares for her one whit."

"It is certainly very strange," respondedMiss Raynor, thoughtfully. "Every onecan see she is certainly in love with Rex;but I am afraid it is quite a one-sidedaffair."

"Yes," said Grace, laughing shyly, "a veryone-sided affair. Why, have you evernoticed them together how Plumawatches his face and seems to live onhis smiles And as for Rex, he alwaysseems to be looking over her head intothe distance, as though he sawsomething there far more interesting

than the face of his bride-to-be. Thatdoesn't look much like love or acontented lover."

"If you had seen him this morning youmight well say he did not lookcontented," replied Miss Raynor,mysteriously. "I was out for a morningramble, and, feeling a little tired, I satdown on a moss-covered stone to rest.Hearing the approaching clatter of ahorse's hoofs, I looked up and saw RexLyon coming leisurely down the road. Icould not tell you what prompted meto do it, but I drew quietly back behindthe overhanging alder branches thatskirted the brook, admiring him allunseen."

"Oh, dear!" cried Grace, merrily, "this isalmost too good to keep. Who wouldimagine dignified Miss Raynor peepingadmiringly at handsome Rex, screenedby the shadows of the alders!"

"Now don't be ridiculous, Grace, or Ishall be tempted not to tell you themost interesting part," returned MissRaynor, flushing hotly.

"Oh, that would be too cruel," criedGrace, 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, hesuddenly stopped short and quicklydismounted from his horse, and pickedup from the roadside a handful of wildflowers."

"What in the world could he want withthem " cried Grace, incredulously.

"Want with them!" echoed MissRaynor. "Why, he pressed them to hislips, murmuring passionate, lovingwords over them. For one brief instanthis face was turned toward me, and Isaw there were tears standing in hiseyes, and there was a look on his face Ishall never forget to my dying day.There was such hopeless woe upon it

indeed one might have almostsupposed, by the expression of hisface, he was waiting for his death-sentence to be pronounced instead of amarriage ceremony, which was to givehim the queenly heiress of WhitestoneHall for a bride."

"Perhaps there is some hidden romancein the life of handsome Rex the worlddoes not know of," suggested Grace,sagely.

"I hope not," replied Miss Raynor. "Iwould hate to be a rival of PlumaHurlhurst's. I have often thought, as Iwatched her with Rex, it must beterrible to worship one person so

madly. I have often thought Pluma's aperilous love."

"Do not speak so," cried Grace. "Youhorrify me. Whenever I see her face Iam afraid those words will be ringing inmy ears a perilous love."

Miss Raynor made some laughingrejoinder which Pluma, white andtrembling behind the ivy vines, did notcatch, and still discussing the affair, theymoved on, leaving Pluma Hurlhurststanding alone, face to face with thetruth, which she had hoped againsthope was false. Rex, who was so soonto be her husband, was certainly nother lover.

Her keen judgment had told her longago all this had come about through hismother's influence.

Every word those careless lips haduttered came back to her heart with acruel stab.

"Even my guests are noticing hiscoldness," she cried, with a hystericallittle sob. "They are saying to eachother, 'He does not love me' I, whohave counted my triumphs by thescores. I have revealed my love in everyword, tone and glance, but I can notawaken one sentiment in his proud,cold heart."

When she remembered the words, "Hepressed them to his lips, murmuringpassionate, loving words over them,"she almost cried aloud in her fierce,angry passion. She knew, just as well asthough she had witnessed him herself,that those wild flowers were daisies,and she knew, too, why he had kissedthem so passionately. She saw the sunshining on the trees, the flower-bedswere great squares and circles of color,the fountains sparkled in the sunlight,and restless butterflies flitted hither andthither.

For Pluma Hurlhurst, after that hour,the sunshine never had the same light,

the flowers the same color, her face thesame smile, or her heart the samejoyousness.

Never did "good and evil" fight for ahuman heart as they struggled in thathour in the heart of the beautiful,willful heiress. All the fire, the passion,and recklessness of her nature werearoused.

"I will make him love me or I will die!"she cried, vehemently. "The love I longfor shall be mine. I swear it, cost what itmay!"

She was almost terribly beautiful tobehold, as that war of passion raged

within her.

She saw a cloud of dust arising in thedistance. She knew it was Rexreturning, but no bright flush rose toher cheek as she remembered whatMiss Raynor had said of the wildflowers he had so rapturously caressedhe had given a few rank wild flowersthe depths of a passionate love whichhe had never shown to her, whom hehad asked to be his wife.

She watched him as he approachednearer and nearer, so handsome, sograceful, so winning, one of his whitehands carelessly resting on the spiritedanimal's proudly arched, glossy neck,

and with the other raising his hat fromhis brown curls in true courtly cavalierfashion to her, as he saw her standingthere, apparently awaiting him on therose-covered terrace.

He looked so handsome and lovablePluma might have forgotten hergrievance had she not at that momentespied, fastened to the lapel of his coat,a cluster of golden-hearted daisies.

That sight froze the light in her dark,passionate eyes and the welcome thattrembled on her scarlet lips.

He leaped lightly from the saddle, andcame quickly forward to meet her, and

then drew back with a start.

"What is the matter, Pluma " he asked,in wonder.

"Nothing," she replied, keeping hereyes fastened as if fascinated on theoffending daisies he wore on his breast.

"I left you an hour ago smiling andhappy. I find you white and worn.There are strange lights in your eyes likethe slumbrous fire of a volcano; evenyour voice seems to have lost itstenderness. What is it, Pluma "

She raised her dark, proud face to his.There was a strange story written on it,

but he could not tell what it was.

"It it is nothing. The day is warm, and Iam tired, that is all."

"You are not like the same Pluma whokissed me when I was going away," hepersisted. "Since I left this housesomething has come between you andme. What is it, Pluma "

She looked up to him with a proudgesture that was infinitely charming.

"Is anything likely to come between us" she asked.

"No; not that I know of," he answered,

growing more and more puzzled.

"Then why imagine it " she asked.

"Because you are so changed, Pluma,"he said. "I shall never perhaps know thecause of your strange manner towardme, but I shall always feel sure it issomething which concerns myself. Youlook at me as though you werequestioning me," he said. "I wish youwould tell me what is on your mind "

"I do not suppose it could make theleast difference," she answered,passionately. "Yes, I will tell you, whatyou must have been blind not to noticelong ago. Have you not noticed how

every one watches us with a peculiarsmile on their lips as we come amongthem; and how their voices sink to awhisper lest we should overhear whatthey say What is commented upon bymy very guests, and the people all aboutus Listen, then, it is this: Rex Lyon doesnot love the woman he has asked to behis wife. The frosts of Iceland couldnot be colder than his manner towardher. They say, too, that I have given youthe truest and deepest love of my heart,and have received nothing in return.Tell me that it is all false, my darling.You do care for me, do you not, RexTell me," she implored.

"Good heavens!" cried Rex, almost

speechless in consternation; "do theydare say such things I never thought myconduct could give rise to onereproach, one unkind thought."

"Tell me you do care for me, Rex," shecried. "I have been almost mad withdoubt."

There was something in the lovely face,in the tender, pleading eyes, andquivering, scarlet mouth, that looked asif it were made for kisses that Rexwould have had to have beensomething more than mortal man tohave resisted her pleading with sighsand tears for his love, and refuse it,especially as she had every reason to

expect it, as he had asked her to be hiswife. There was such a look ofunutterable love on her face it fairlybewildered him. The passion in hervoice startled him. What was he to dowith this impetuous girl Rex looked asif he felt exceedingly uncomfortable.

He took her in his arms and kissed hermechanically; he knew that was whatshe wanted and what she expected himto do.

"This must be my answer, dear," hesaid, holding her in a close embrace.

In that brief instant she had torn thedaisies from the lapel of his coat with

her white, jeweled fingers, tossed themto the earth, and stamped her daintyfeet upon them, wishing in the depthsof her soul she could crush out allremembrance from his heart of theyoung girl for whose memory thishandsome lover of hers wore thesewild blossoms on his breast.

As Rex looked down into her face hemissed them, and quickly unclasped hisarms from around her with a little cry.

Stooping down he instantly recoveredhis crushed treasures and lifted themreverently 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 herlover's ears. "The conservatories areblooming with rare and odorousflowers, yet you choose theseobnoxious plants; they are no more orless than a species of weeds. Neverwear them again, Rex I despise themthrow them away, and I will gather youa rare bouquet of white hyacinths andstarry jasmine and golden-rod bells."

The intense quiver in her voice painedhim, and he saw her face wore thepallor of death, and her eyes weregleaming 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 byany other; daisies are the sweetestflowers on earth for me."

He did not fasten them on his coatagain, but transferred them to hisbreast-pocket. She bit her scarlet lips inimpotent rage.

In the very moment of her supremetriumph and happiness he hadunclasped his arms from about her topick up the daisies she had crushedwith her tiny heel those daisies whichreminded him of that other love thatstill reigned in his heart a barrierbetween them.

CHAPTER XXIX.

"I do think it is a perfect shame thosehorrid Glenn girls are to be invited uphere to Rex's wedding," cried littleBirdie Lyon, hobbling into the roomwhere Mrs. Corliss sat, busily engagedin hemming some new table-linen, andthrowing herself down on a lowhassock at her feet, and laying downher crutch beside her "it is perfectlyawful."

"Why," said Mrs. Corliss, smoothing thenut-brown curls back from the child's

flushed face, "I should think youwould be very pleased. They were yourneighbors when you were down inFlorida, were they not "

"Yes," replied the little girl, frowning,"but I don't like them one bit. Bess andGertie that's the two eldest ones, makeme think of those stiff pictures in thegay trailing dresses in the magazines.Eve is nice, but she's a Tom-boy."

"A wh at!" cried Mrs. Corliss.

"She's a Tom-boy, mamma always said;she romps, and has no manners."

"They will be your neighbors when you

go South again so I suppose yourbrother thought of that when heinvited 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 likeher anyhow, and she knows it. WhenRex is around she is as sweet as honeyto me, and calls me 'pretty little dear,'but when Rex isn't around she scarcelynotices me, and I hate her yes, I do."

Birdie clinched her little hands togethervenomously, crying out the words in ashrill scream.

"Birdie," cried Mrs. Corliss, "you mustnot say such hard, cruel things. I haveheard you say, over and over again, youliked Mr. Hurlhurst, and you mustremember Pluma is his daughter, andshe is to be your brother's wife. Youmust learn to speak and think kindly ofher."

"I never shall like her," cried Birdie,defiantly, "and I am sure Mr. Hurlhurstdon't."

"Birdie!" ejaculated the good lady in a

fright, dropping her scissors and spoolsin consternation; "let me warn you notto talk so again; if Miss Pluma was toonce hear you, you would have a sorryenough time of it all your after life.What put it into your head Mr.Hurlhurst did not like his owndaughter "

"Oh, lots of things," answered Birdie."When I tell him how pretty every onesays she is, he groans, and says strangethings about fatal beauty, which marredall his young life, and ever so manythings I can't understand, and his facegrows so hard and so stern I am almostafraid of him."

"He is thinking of Pluma's mother,"thought Mrs. Corliss but she made noanswer.

"He likes to talk to me," pursued thechild, rolling the empty spools to andfro with her crutch, "for he pities mebecause I am lame."

"Bless your dear little heart," said Mrs.Corliss, softly stroking the little girl'scurls; "it is seldom poor old mastertakes to any one as he has to you."

"Do I look anything like the little childthat died " questioned Birdie.

A low, gasping cry broke from Mrs.

Corliss's lips, and her face grew ashenwhite. She tried to speak, but the wordsdied away in her throat.

"He talks to me a great deal about her,"continued Birdie, "and he weeps suchbitter tears, and has such strangedreams about her. Why, only last nighthe dreamed a beautiful, golden-hairedyoung girl came to him, holding out herarms, and crying softly: 'Look at me,father; I am your child. I was never laidto rest beneath the violets, in my youngmother's tomb. Father, I am in soredistress come to me, father, or I shalldie!' Of course it was only a dream, butit makes poor Mr. Hurlhurst cry so; andwhat do you think he said "

The child did not notice the terribleagony on the old housekeeper's face, orthat no answer was vouchsafed her.

"'My dreams haunt me night and day,'he cried. 'To still this wild, fiercethrobbing of my heart I must have thatgrave opened, and gaze once moreupon all that remains of my loved andlong-lost bride, sweet Evalia and herlittle child.' He was "

Birdie never finished her sentence.

A terrible cry broke from thehousekeeper's livid lips.

"My God!" she cried, hoarsely, "afternearly seventeen years the sin of mysilence is about to find me out at last."

"What is the matter, Mrs. Corliss Areyou ill " cried the startled child.

A low, despairing sob answered her, asMrs. Corliss arose from her seat, took astep or two forward, then fell headlongto the floor in a deep and death-likeswoon.

Almost any other child would havebeen terrified, and alarmed thehousehold.

Birdie was not like other children. She

saw a pitcher of ice-water on anadjacent table, which she immediatelyproceeded to sprinkle on the still,white, wrinkled face; but all her effortsfailed to bring the fleeting breath backto the cold, pallid lips.

At last the child became fairlyfrightened.

"I must go and find Rex or Mr.Hurlhurst," she cried, grasping hercrutch, and limping hurriedly out ofthe room.

The door leading to Basil Hurlhurst'sapartments stood open the master ofWhitestone Hall sat in his easy-chair, in

morning-gown and slippers, deeplyimmersed in the columns of hisaccount-books.

"Oh, Mr. Hurlhurst," cried Birdie, herlittle, white, scared face peering in at thedoor, "won't you please come quickMrs. Corliss, the housekeeper, hasfainted ever so long ago, and I can'tbring her to!"

Basil Hurlhurst hurriedly arose andfollowed the now thoroughlyfrightened child quickly to the roomwhere the old housekeeper lay, herhands pressed close to her heart, thelook of frozen horror deepening onher face.

Quickly summoning the servants, theyraised her from the floor. It wassomething more than a mere faintingfit. The poor old lady had fallen facedownward on the floor, and upon thesharp point of the scissors she hadbeen using, which had entered herbody in close proximity to her heart.The wound was certainly a dangerousone. The surgeon, who was quicklysummoned, shook his head dubiously.

"The wound is of the most seriousnature," he said. "She can not possiblyrecover."

"I regret this sad affair more than I can

find words to express," said BasilHurlhurst, gravely. "Mrs. Corliss'swhole life almost has been spent atWhitestone Hall. You tell me, doctor,there is no hope. I can scarcely realizeit."

Every care and attention was shownher; but it was long hours before Mrs.Corliss showed signs of returningconsciousness, and with her first breathshe begged that Basil Hurlhurst mightbe sent for at once.

He could not understand why sheshrunk from him, refusing hisproffered hand.

"Tell them all to leave the room," shewhispered. "No one must know what Ihave to say to you."

Wondering a little what she had to sayto him, he humored her wishes,sending them all from the room.

"Now, Mrs. Corliss," he said, kindlydrawing his chair up close by thebedside, "what is it You can speak outwithout reserve; we are all alone."

"Is it true that I can not live " sheasked, eagerly scanning his face. "Tellme truthfully, master, is the wound afatal one "

"Yes," he said, sympathetically, "I I amafraid it is."

He saw she was making a violent effortto control her emotions. "Do notspeak," he said, gently; "it distressesyou. You need perfect rest and quiet."

"I shall never rest again until I makeatonement for my sin," she cried, feebly."Oh, master, you have ever been goodand kind to me, but I have sinnedagainst you beyond all hope of pardon.When you hear what I have to say youwill curse me. Oh, how can I tell it! YetI can not sleep in my grave with thisburden on my soul."

He certainly thought she was delirious,this poor, patient, toil-worn soul,speaking so incoherently of sin; she, sotender-hearted she could not even havehurt a sparrow.

"I can promise you my full pardon,Mrs. Corliss," he said, soothingly; "nomatter on what grounds the grievancemay be."

For a moment she looked at himincredulously.

"You do not know what you say. Youdo not understand," she muttered,fixing her fast-dimming eyes strangelyupon him.

"Do not give yourself any uneasinessupon that score, Mrs. Corliss," he said,gently; "try to think of something else.Is there anything you would like tohave done for you "

"Yes," she replied, in a voice so hoarseand changed he could scarcelyrecognize it was her who had spoken;"when I tell you all, promise me youwill not curse me; for I have sinnedagainst you so bitterly that you will cryout to Heaven asking why I did not dielong years ago, that the terrible secret Ihave kept so long might have beenwrung from my lips."

"Surely her ravings were taking astrange freak," he thought to himself;"yet he would be patient with her andhumor her strange fancy."

The quiet, gentle expression did notleave his face, and she took courage.

"Master," she said, clasping her handsnervously together, "would it pain youto speak of the sweet, golden-hairedyoung girl-bride who died on thatterrible stormy night nearly seventeenyears ago "

She saw his care-worn face grow white,and the lines of pain deepen aroundhis mouth.

"That is the most painful of all subjectsto me," he said, slowly. "You know howI have suffered since that terriblenight," he said shudderingly. "Thedouble loss of my sweet young wifeand her little babe has nearly driven memad. I am a changed man, the weightof the cross I have had to bear hascrushed 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 what you have to say.I believe I owe my life to your carefulnursing, when I was stricken with thebrain fever that awful time."

"It would have been better if I had letyou die then, rather than live to inflictthe blow which my words will give you.Oh, master!" she implored, "I did notknow then what I did was a sin. Ifeared to tell you lest the shock mightcost you your life. As time wore on, Igrew so deadly frightened I dared notundo the mischief my silence hadwrought. Remember, master, when youlooked upon me in your bitterest,fiercest moments of agony, what I didwas for your sake; to save your bleedingheart one more pang. I have been agood and faithful woman 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 shesunk back exhausted on the pillow.

"Listen, Basil Hurlhurst," she said,fixing her strangely bright eyes upon hisnoble, care-worn face; "this is the secretI have carried in this bosom for nearlyseventeen years: 'Your golden-hairedyoung wife died on that terrible stormynight you brought her to WhitestoneHall;' but listen, Basil, 'the child did not!' Itwas stolen from our midst on the nightthe fair young mother died."

CHAPTER XXX.

"My God!" cried Basil Hurlhurst,starting to his feet, pale as death, hiseyes fairly burning, and the veinsstanding out on his forehead like cords,"you do not know what you say,woman! My little child Evalia's childand mine not dead, but stolen on thenight its mother died! My God! it cannot be; surely you are mad!" heshrieked.

"It is true, master," she moaned, "trueas Heaven."

"You knew my child, for whom Igrieved for seventeen long years, wasstolen not dead and dared to keep theknowledge from me " he cried,passionately, beside himself with rage,agony and fear. "Tell me quickly, then,where I shall find my child!" he cried,breathlessly.

"I do not know, master," she moaned.

For a few moments Basil Hurlhurststrode up and down the room like aman bereft of reason.

"You will not curse me," wailed thetremulous voice from the bed; "I haveyour promise."

"I can not understand how Heavencould let your lips remain silenced allthese long, agonizing years, if yourstory be true. Why, yourself told me mywife and child had both died on thatnever-to-be-forgotten night, and wereburied in one grave. How could youdare steep your lips with a lie so fouland black Heaven could have struckyou dead while the false words were yetwarm on your lips!"

"I dared not tell you, master," moanedthe feeble voice, "lest the shock wouldkill you; then, after you recovered, Igrew afraid of the secret I had dared tokeep, and dared not tell you."

"And yet you knew that somewhere inthis cruel world my little child wasliving my tender, little fair-haired childwhile I, her father, was wearing my lifeout with the grief of that terribledouble loss. Oh, woman, woman, mayGod forgive you, for I never can, ifyour words be true."

"I feared such anger as this; that is whyI dared not tell you," she whispered,faintly. "I appeal to your respect for mein the past to hear me, to your promiseof forgiveness to shield me, to yourlove for the little child to listen calmlywhile I have strength to speak."

He saw she was right. His head seemedon fire, and his heart seemed burstingwith the acute intensity of his greatexcitement.

He must listen while she had strengthto tell him of his child.

"Go on go on!" he cried, hoarsely,burying his face in the bed-clothes; "tellme of my child!"

"You remember the terrible storm,master, how the tree moaned, andwithout against the western wing whereyour beautiful young wife lay dead,with the pretty, smiling, blue-eyed babeupon her breast "

"Yes, yes go on you are driving memad!" he groaned.

"You remember how you fell downsenseless 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's formgliding stealthily on before, through thedark corridors. A blaze of lightningillumined the hall for one brief instant,and I can swear I saw a woman's face a

white, mocking, gloriously beautifulface strangely like the face of your firstwife, master, Pluma's mother. I knew itcould not be her, for she was lyingbeneath the sea-waves. It was not agood omen, and I felt sorely afraid andgreatly troubled. When I returned tothe room from which they had carriedyou there lay your fair young wife witha smile on her lips but the tiny babethat had slumbered on her breast wasgone."

"Oh, God! if you had only told me thisyears ago," cried the unhappy father."Have you any idea who could havetaken the child It could not have beenfor gain, or I should have heard of it

long ago. I did not know I had anenemy in the wide world. You say yousaw a woman's face " he asked,thoughtfully.

"It was the ghost of your first wife,"asserted the old housekeeper, astutely."I never saw her face but once; butthere was something about it one couldnot easily forget."

Basil Hurlhurst was not a superstitiousman, yet he felt a strange,unaccountable dread stealing over himat the bare mention of such a thing. Itwas more than he could endure to hearthe name of the wife he had loved, andthe wife who slept beneath the wild

sea-waves, coupled in one breath thefair young wife he had idolized, and thedark, sparkling face of the wife whohad brought upon him such wretchedfolly in his youth!

"Have you not some clew to give me "he cried out in agony "some way bywhich I can trace her and learn her fate"

She shook her head.

"This is unbearable!" he cried, pacingup and down the room like one whohad received an unexpected death-blow."I am bewildered! Merciful Heaven!which way shall I turn This accounts

for my restlessness all these years, whenI thought of my child my restlesslonging and fanciful dreams! I thoughther quietly sleeping on Evalia's breast.God only knows what my tender littledarling has suffered, or in what part ofthe world she lives, or if she lives atall!"

It had been just one hour since BasilHurlhurst had entered that room, aplacid-faced, gray-haired man. When heleft it his hair was white as snow fromthe terrible ordeal through which hehad just passed.

He scarcely dared hope that he shouldyet find her where or how he should

find her, if ever.

In the corridor he passed groups ofmaidens, but he neither saw nor heardthem. He was thinking of the child thathad been stolen from him in herinfancy the sweet little babe with thelarge blue eyes and shining rings ofgolden hair.

He saw Pluma and Rex greeting somenew arrivals out on the flower-bordered terrace, but he did not stopuntil he had reached his ownapartments.

He did not send for Pluma, to divulgethe wonderful discovery he had made.

There was little sympathy or confidencebetween the father and daughter.

"I can never sleep again until I havesome clew to my child!" he cried,frantically wringing his hands.

Hastily he touched the bell-rope.

"Mason," he said to the servant whoanswered the summons, "pack myvalise at once. I am going to take thefirst train to Baltimore. You have notime to lose."

He did not hear the man's ejaculationof surprise as his eyes fell on the faceof the master who stood before him

with hair white as snow so utterlychanged in one short hour.

"You couldn't possibly make the nexttrain, sir; it leaves in a few moments."

"I tell you you must make it!" cried BasilHurlhurst. "Go and do as I bid you atonce! Don't stand there staring at me;you are losing golden moments. Fly atonce, I tell you!"

Poor old Mason was literallyastounded. What had come over hiskind, courteous master

"I have nothing that could aid them inthe search," he said to himself, pacing

restlessly up and down the room. "Ah!stay! there is Evalia's portrait! The littleone must look like her mother if she isliving yet!"

He went to his writing-desk and drewfrom a private drawer a little packagetied with a faded ribbon, which hecarefully untied with trembling fingers.

It was a portrait on ivory of a beautiful,girlish, dimpled face, with shy, upraisedblue eyes, a smiling rosebud mouth,soft pink cheeks, and a wealth ofrippling, sunny-golden hair.

"She must look like this," he whispered."God grant that I may find her!"

"Mr. Rex Lyon says, please may he seeyou a few moments, sir," said Mason,popping his black head in at the door.

"No; I do not wish to see any one, andI will not see any one. Have you thatsatchel packed, I say "

"Yes, sir; it will be ready directly, sir,"said the man, obediently.

"Don't come to me with any moremessages lock everybody out. Do youhear me, Mason I will be obeyed!"

"Yes, sir, I hear. No one shall disturbyou."

Again Basil Hurlhurst turned to theportrait, paying little attention to whatwas transpiring around him. "I shallput it at once in the hands of thecleverest detectives," he mused; "surelythey will be able to find some trace ofmy lost darling."

Seventeen years! Ah, what might havehappened her in that time The masterof Whitestone Hall always kept a fileof the Baltimore papers; he rapidly ranhis 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. Ifthey restore my darling child alive andwell into my hands I will make themwealthy men if she is dead, the blowwill surely kill me."

He heard voices debating in thecorridor without.

"Did you tell him I wished particularlyto see him " asked Rex, ratherdiscomfited at the refusal.

"Yes, sir," said Mason, dubiously.

"Miss Pluma, his daughter, wishes meto speak with him on a very important

matter. I am surprised that he sopersistently refuses to see me," said Rex,proudly, wondering if Pluma's fatherhad heard that gossip among the gueststhat he did not love his daughter. "I donot know that I have offended the oldgentleman in any way," he told himself."If it comes to that," he thought, "I cando no more than confess the truth tohim the whole truth about poor littleDaisy no matter what the consequencesmay be."

Fate was playing at cross-purposes withhandsome Rex, but no subtle warningcame to him.

CHAPTER XXXI.

The preparations for the wedding wentsteadily on. It was to be a magnificentaffair. Inside and outside ofWhitestone Hall fairly glowed withbrilliancy and bloom.

Rex's deportment toward his promisedbride was exemplary; he did his best toshow her every possible attention andkindness in lieu of the love whichshould have been hers.

There seemed to be no cloud in PlumaHurlhurst's heaven.

She had no warning of the relentlessstorm-cloud that was gathering aboveher head and was so soon to burstupon her in all its fury.

She walked among her guests with ajoyous, happy smile and the air of aqueen. Why should she not On themorrow she would gain the prize shecoveted most on earth she would beRex's wife.

Her father had gone unexpectedly toBaltimore, and the good oldhousekeeper had been laid to rest, butin the excitement and bustle attendingthe great coming event these twoincidents created little comment.

Mirth and gayety reigned supreme, andthe grim old halls resounded withlaughter and song and gay young voicesfrom morning until night.

Pluma, the spoiled, petted, willfulheiress, was fond of excitement and gaythrongs.

"Our marriage must be an event worthyof remembrance, Rex," she said, as theywalked together through the groundsthe morning before the wedding. "Wemust have something new and novel. Iam tired of brilliant parlors and gas-light. I propose we shall have abeautiful platform built, covered with

moss and roses, beneath theblossoming trees, with the birds singingin their boughs, upon which we shallbe united. What do you think of myidea is it not a pretty one "

"Your ideas are always poetical andfanciful," said Rex, glancing down intothe beautiful brilliant face beside him."My thoughts are so dull and prosycompared with yours, are you not afraidyou will have a very monotonous life-companion "

"I am going to try my best to win youfrom that cold reserve. There must notbe one shadow between us; do youknow, Rex, I have been thinking, if

anything should ever happen to takeyour love from me I should surely die. II am jealous of your very thoughts. Iknow I ought not to admit it, but I cannot help it."

Rex flushed nervously; it was reallyembarrassing to him, the tender way inwhich she looked up to him her blackeyelids coyly drooping over her dark,slumbrous eyes, inviting a caress. Hewas certainly wooed against his will,but there was no help for it; he wasforced to take up his part and act it outgracefully.

"You need not be jealous of mythoughts, Pluma," he replied, "for they

were all of you."

"I wonder if they were pleasantthoughts " she asked, toying with thecrimson flower-bells she holds in herwhite hands. "I have heard you sigh somuch of late. Are you quite happy, Rex" she inquired, hesitatingly.

The abruptness of the questionstaggered him: he recovered hiscomposure instantly, however.

"How can you ask me such a question,Pluma " he asked, evasively; "any manought to be proud of winning sopeerless a treasure as you are. I shall beenvied by scores of disappointed

lovers, who have worshiped at yourshrine. I am not as demonstrative assome might be under similarcircumstances, but my appreciation isnone the less keen."

She noticed he carefully avoided theword love.

In after years Rex liked to rememberthat, yielding to a kindly impulse, hebent down and kissed her forehead.

It was the first time he had caressed hervoluntarily; it was not love whichprompted the action only kindness.

"Perhaps you will love me some day

with your whole heart, Rex " she asked.

"You seem quite sure that I do not dothat now " he remarked.

"Yes," she said, clasping his arm moreclosely, "I often fear you do not, but astime passes you will give me all youraffection. Love must win love."

Other young girls could not have madesuch an open declaration without rosyblushes suffusing their cheeks; theywould have been frightened at theirfree-spoken words, even though themorrow was their wedding-day.

She stood before him in her tall, slim

loveliness, as fair a picture as any man'seyes could rest on. She wore a mostbecoming dress, and a spring blossomwas in her hair. Almost any other man'sheart would have warmed toward heras she raised her dark eyes to his andthe white fingers trembled on his arm.

Rex was young, impulsive, and mortal;tender words from such lovely lipswould have intoxicated any man. Yetfrom that faithful heart of his thewords did not take one thought thatbelonged to Daisy; he did his utmost toforget that sunny, golden memory.

To Pluma, handsome, courtly Rex wasan enigma. In her own mind she liked

him all the better because he had notfallen down and worshiped her at once.Most men did that.

For several moments they walked alongin utter silence until they had reachedthe brink of the dark pool, which layquite at the further end of theinclosure.

Pluma gave a little shuddering scream:

"I did not mean to bring you here," shecried. "I always avoid this path; thewaters of the pool have always had agreat dread for me."

"It should be filled up," said Rex, "or

fenced around; it is certainly adangerous locality."

"It can not be filled up," she returned,laughingly; "it is said to be bottomless. Ido 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' costumes were allready; and to everything in and aboutthe Hall the last finishing touches hadbeen given.

All the young girls hovered constantlyaround Pluma, in girl-fashion admiring

the costume, the veil, the wreath, andabove all the radiantly beautiful girlwho was to wear them. Even the Glenngirls and Grace Alden were forced toadmit the willful young heiress wouldmake the most peerless bride they hadever beheld.

Little Birdie alone held aloof, much toRex's amusement and Pluma's intensemortification.

"Little children often take such strangefreaks," she would say to Rex, sweetly."I really believe your little sister intendsnever to like me; I can not win onesmile from her."

"She is not like other children," hereplied, with a strange twinkle in hiseye. "She forms likes and dislikes topeople from simply hearing their name.Of course I agree with you it is notright to do so, but Birdie has beenhumored more or less all her life. Ithink she will grow to love you intime."

Pluma's lips quivered like the lips of agrieving child.

"I shall try so hard to make her loveme, because she is your sister, Rex."

He clasped the little jeweled hands thatlay so confidingly within his own still

closer, saying he knew she could nothelp but succeed.

The whole country-side was ringingwith the coming marriage. No onecould be more popular than handsomeRex Lyon, no one admired more thanthe young heiress of Whitestone Hall.The county papers were in ecstasies;they discussed the magnificentpreparations at the Hall, the number ofbride-maids, the superb wedding-presents, the arrangements for themarriage, and the ball to be given in theevening.

The minister from Baltimore who wasto perform the ceremony was expected

to arrive that day. That all preparationsmight be completed for the comingmorrow, Rex had gone down to meetthe train, and Pluma strolled into theconservatory, to be alone for a fewmoments with her own happythoughts.

Out on the green lawns happy maidenswere tripping here and there, their gaylaughter floating up to her where shestood.

Every one seemed to be making themost of the happy occasion. Lawn-tennis parties here and croquet-partiesthere, and lovers strolling under theblossoming trees or reclining on the

rustic benches it was indeed a happyscene.

Pluma leaned her dark head against thefragrant roses. The breeze, the perfumeof the flowers, all told one story to theimpassioned girl the story of hertriumph and her mad, reckless love.

She gathered a spray of the fairestflowers, and fastened them in thebodice of her dress.

"To-morrow I shall have won the onegreat prize I covet," she murmured,half aloud. "After to-morrow I candefy Lester Stanwick to bring onecharge against me. I shall be Rex's wife

it will avail him nothing."

"Speaking of angels, you often hear 'therustle of their wings.' I believe there isan old adage of that sort, or somethingsimilar," said a deep voice beside her,and turning around with a low cry shesaw Lester Stanwick himself standingbefore her.

For one moment her lips opened asthough to utter a piercing cry, but eventhe very breath seemed to die uponthem, they were so fixed and still.

The flowers she held in her hand fellinto the fountain against which sheleaned, but she did not heed them.

Like one fascinated, her eyes met thegaze of the bold, flashing dark onesbent so steadily upon her.

"You thought you would escape me,"he said. "How foolish and blind youare, my clever plotter. Did you think Idid not see through your clevermaneuverings There shall be a weddingto-morrow, but you shall marry me,instead of handsome, debonair Rex.You can not fly from your fate."

She set her lips firmly together. She hadmade a valiant struggle. She would defyhim to the bitter end. She was nocoward, this beautiful, imperious girl.

She would die hard. Alas! she had beentoo sanguine, hoping Lester Stanwickwould not return before the ceremonywas performed.

The last hope died out of that proud,passionate heart as well hope to divert atiger from its helpless prey as expectLester Stanwick to relinquish any planshe had once formed.

"I have fought my fight," she said toherself, "and have failed on the verythreshold of victory, still, I know howto bear defeat. What do you propose todo " she said, huskily. "If there is anyway I can buy your silence, name yourprice, keeping back the truth will avail

me little now. I love Rex, and no poweron earth shall prevent me frombecoming his wife."

Lester Stanwick smiled superciliouslydrawing from his pocket a package ofletters.

"Money could not purchase thesecharming billets-doux from me," he said."This will be charming reading matterfor the Honorable Rex Lyon, and thegeneral public to discuss."

She raised her flashing eyesunflinchingly to his face, but no wordissued from her white lips.

"A splendid morsel for the gossips towhisper over. The very refined andexclusive heiress of Whitestone Hallconnives to remove an innocent rivalfrom her path, by providing money forher to be sent off secretly to boarding-school, from which she is to beabducted and confined in a mad-house.Your numerous letters give fullinstructions; it would be useless todeny these accusations. I hold proofpositive."

"That would not screen you," she said,scornfully.

"I did not carry out your plans. Nomatter what the intentions were, the

points in the case are what actuallyhappened. I can swear I refused tocomply with your nefarious wishes,even though you promised me yourhand and fortune if I succeeded," heanswered, mockingly.

"Will not money purchase your silence" she said, with a deep-drawn breath. "Ido not plead with you for mercy orcompassion," she said, haughtily.

Lester Stanwick laughed a mockinglaugh.

"Do not mistake me, Miss Pluma," hesaid, making no attempt at love-making;"I prefer to wrest you from Rex Lyon. I

have contemplated with intensesatisfaction the blow to his pride. It willbe a glorious revenge, also giving me acharming bride, and last, but not least,the possession at some future day ofWhitestone Hall and the HurlhurstPlantations. A pleasing picture, is it not,my dear "

CHAPTER XXXII.

Pluma Hurlhurst never quailed beneaththe cold, mocking glance bent uponher.

There was no hope for her; disgrace

and ruin stared her in the face; shewould defy even Fate itself to the bitterend with a heroism worthy of a bettercause. In that hour and that mood shewas capable of anything.

She leaned against a tall palm-tree,looking at him with a strangeexpression on her face, as she madeanswer, slowly:

"You may depend upon it, I shall nevermarry you, Lester Stanwick. If I do notmarry Rex I shall go unmarried to thegrave. Ah, no!" she cried desperately;"Heaven will have more mercy, morepity than to take him from me."

"What mercy or pity did you feel inthrusting poor little Daisy Brooks fromhis path " asked Stanwick, sarcastically."Your love has led you throughdangerous paths. I should call itcertainly a most perilous love."

She recoiled from him with a low cry,those words again still ringing in herears, "A perilous love."

She laughed with a laugh that madeeven Stanwick's blood run cold ahorrible laugh.

"I do not grieve that she is dead," shesaid. "You ought to understand by thistime I shall allow nothing to come

between Rex and me."

"You forget the fine notions of honoryour handsome lover entertains; it maynot have occurred to you that he mightobject at the eleventh hour."

"He will not," she cried, fiercely, herbosom rising and falling convulsivelyunder its covering of filmy lace and thediamond brooch which clasped it."You do not know the indomitable willof a desperate woman," she gasped. "Iwill see him myself and confess all tohim, if you attempt to reveal thecontents of those letters. He will marryme and take me abroad at once. If Ihave Rex's love, what matters it what

the whole world knows or says "

She spoke rapidly, vehemently, withflushed face and glowing eyes; and evenin her terrible anger Stanwick could nothelp but notice how gloriouslybeautiful she was in her tragic emotion.

"I have asked you to choose betweenus," he said, calmly, "and you havechosen Rex regardless of all thepromises of the past. Theconsequences rest upon your ownhead."

"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 giveup hope of winning the heiress ofWhitestone Hall."

For several moments she stood quitestill among the dark-green shrubs, andno sound told of the deadly strife anddespair. Would he see Rex and divulgethe crime she had planned Ah! whowould believe she, the proud, pettedheiress had plotted so cruelly againstthe life of an innocent young girlbecause she found favor in the eyes ofthe lover she had sworn to win Ah!

who could believe she had planned toconfine that sweet young life within thewalls of a mad-house until deathshould release her

What if the plan had failed Theintention still remained the same. Shewas thankful, after all, the young girlwas dead.

"I could never endure the thought ofRex's intense anger if he once imaginedthe truth; he would never forgiveduplicity," she cried, wildly.

The proud, beautiful girl, radiant withlove and happiness a short time since,with a great cry flung herself down

among the ferns, the sunlight gleamingon the jewels, the sumptuous morningdress, the crushed roses, and the white,despairing face.

Any one who saw Pluma Hurlhurstwhen she entered the drawing-roomamong her merry-hearted guests, wouldhave said that she had never shed a tearor known a sigh. Could that be thesame creature upon whose prostratefigure and raining tears the sunshinehad so lately fallen No one could havetold that the brightness, the smiles, andthe gay words were all forced. No onecould have guessed that beneath thebrilliant manner there was a torrent ofdark, angry passions and an agony of

fear.

It was pitiful to see how her eyeswandered toward the door. Hour afterhour passed, and still Rex had notreturned.

The hum of girlish voices around heralmost made her brain reel. GraceAlden and Miss Raynor were singing aduet at the piano. The song they weresinging fell like a death-knell upon herears; it was "'He Cometh Not,' SheSaid."

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 comingmorrow.

Her father had returned from Baltimoresome time since. She was too muchengrossed with her thoughts of Rex tonotice the great change in him thestrange light in his eyes, or the wistful,expectant expression of his face, as hekissed her more fondly than he hadever done in his life before.

She gave appropriate answers to herguests grouped around her, but theirvoices seemed afar off. Her heart andher thoughts were with Rex. Why hadhe not returned What was detaining

him Suppose anything should happenit would kill her now yet nothing couldgo wrong on the eve of her wedding-day. She would not believe it. Stanwickwould not dare go to Rex with such astory he would write it and all thosethings took time. With care and cautionand constant watching she wouldprevent Rex from receiving anycommunications whatever until afterthe ceremony; then she could breathefreely, for the battle so bravely foughtwould be won.

"If to-morrow is as bright as to-day,Pluma will have a glorious wedding-day," said Bessie Glenn, smiling up intothe face of a handsome young fellow

who was fastening a rosebud she hadjust given him in the lapel of his coatwith one hand, and with the othertightly clasping the white fingers thathad held the rose.

He did not notice that Pluma stood inthe curtained recesses of an adjoiningwindow as he answered, carelesslyenough:

"Of course, I hope it will be a fine,sunshiny day, but the indications of theweather don't look exactly that way, if Iam any judge."

"Why, you don't think it is going torain, do you Why, it will spoil the rose-

bower she is to be married in and allthe beautiful decoration. Oh, pleasedon't predict anything so awfullyhorrible; you make me feel nervous;besides, you know what everybody saysabout weddings on which the rainfalls."

"Would you be afraid to experiment onthe idea " asked the impulsive youngfellow, who always acted on the spur ofthe moment. "If to-morrow were arainy day, and I should say to you, 'Bess,will you marry me to-day or never 'what would your answer be "

"I should say, just now, I do not like 'ifsand ands.' Supposing a case, and

standing face to face with it, are twodifferent things. I like people who saywhat they mean, and mean what theysay."

Pluma saw the dazzling light flame intothe bashful young lover's eyes as hebent his head lower over the blushinggirl who had shown him the right wayto capture a hesitating heart.

"That is love," sighed Pluma. "Ah, ifRex would only look at me like that Iwould think this earth a heaven." Shelooked up at the bright, dazzling cloudsoverhead; then she remembered thewords she had heard "It looked likerain on the morrow."

Could those white, fleecy cloudsdarken on the morrow that was to giveher the only treasure she had evercoveted in her life

She was not superstitious. Even if itdid rain, surely a few rain-drops couldnot make or mar the happiness of alifetime. She would not believe it.

"Courage until to-morrow," she said,"and my triumph will be complete. Iwill have won Rex." The little ormoluclock on the mantel chimed the hourof five. "Heavens!" she cried to herself,"Rex has been gone over two hours. Ifeel my heart must be bursting."

No one noticed Pluma's anxiety. Onemoment hushed and laughing, thequeen of mirth and revelry, then paleand silent, with shadowed eyes,furtively glancing down the broad,pebbled path that led to the entrancegate.

Yet, despite her bravery, Pluma's faceand lips turned white when she heardthe confusion of her lover's arrival.

Perhaps Pluma had never sufferedmore suspense in all her life than wascrowded into those few moments.

Had he seen Lester Stanwick Had he

come to denounce her for her treachery,in his proud, clear voice, and declarethe marriage broken off

She dared not step forward to greethim, lest the piercing glance of his eyeswould cause her to fall fainting at hisfeet.

"A guilty conscience needs no accuser."Most truly the words were exemplifiedin her case. Yet not one pang ofremorse swept across her proud heartwhen she thought of the young girlwhose life she had so skillfully blighted.

What was the love of Daisy Brooks, anunsophisticated child of nature, only

the overseer's niece, compared to herown mighty, absorbing passion

The proud, haughty heiress could notunderstand how Rex, polished,courteous and refined, could havestooped to such a reckless folly. Hewould thank her in years to come forsparing him from such a fate. Thesewere the thoughts she sought toconsole herself with.

She stood near the door when heentered, but he did not see her; a death-like pallor swept over her face, her darkeyes had a wild, perplexing look.

She was waiting in terrible suspense for

Rex to call upon her name; ask whereshe was, or speak some word in whichshe could read her sentence ofhappiness or despair in the tone of hisvoice.

She could not even catch theexpression of his face; it was turnedfrom her. She watched him so eagerlyshe hardly dared draw her breath.

Rex walked quickly through the room,stopping to chat with this one or thatone a moment; still, his face was notturned for a single instant toward thespot where she stood.

Was he looking for her She could not

tell. Presently he walked toward theconservatory, and a moment later EveGlenn came tripping toward her.

"Oh, here you are!" she cried, flingingher arms about her in regular school-girl abandon, and kissing the cold, proudmouth, that deigned no answeringcaress. "Rex has been looking for youeverywhere, and at last commissionedme to find you and say he wants tospeak to you. He is out on the terrace."

How she longed to ask if Rex's facewas smiling or stern, but she dared not.

"Where did you say Rex was, MissGlenn "

"I said he was out on the terrace; butdon't call me Miss Glenn, for pity's sakeit sounds so freezingly cold. Won't youplease call me Eve," cried theimpetuous girl "simply plain Eve Thathas a more friendly sound, you know."

Another girl less proud than thehaughty heiress would have kissedEve's pretty, piquant, upturned, roguishface.

"What did Rex have to say to her " sheasked herself, in growing dread.

The last hope seemed withering in herproud, passionate heart. She rose

haughtily, and walked with the dignityof a queen through the long drawing-room toward the terrace. Her heartalmost stopped beating as she caughtsight of Rex leaning so gracefullyagainst the trunk of an old gnarled oaktree, smoking a cigar. That certainly didnot look as if he meant to greet herwith a kiss.

She went forward hesitatingly a worldof anxiety and suspense on her face toknow her fate. The color surged overher face, then receded from it again, asshe looked at him with a smile a smilethat was more pitiful than a sigh.

"Rex," she cried, holding out her hands

to him with a fluttering, uncertainmovement that stirred the perfumedlaces of the exquisite robe she wore,and the jewels on her white, nervoushands "Rex, I am here!"

CHAPTER XXXIII.

We must now return to Daisy, whomwe left standing in the heart of theforest, the moonlight streaming on herupturned face, upon which the startledhorseman gazed.

He had not waited for her to reply, but,touching his horse hastily with his

riding-whip, he sped onward with thespeed of the wind.

In that one instant Daisy hadrecognized the dark, sinister, handsomeface of Lester Stanwick.

"They have searched the pit and foundI was not there. He is searching for me;he has tracked me down!" she cried,vehemently, pressing her little whitehands to her burning head.

Faster, faster flew the little feet throughthe long dew-damp grasses.

"My troubles seem closing more darklyaround me," she sobbed. "I wish I had

never been born, then I could neverhave spoiled Rex's life. But I am leavingyou, my love, my darling, so you canmarry Pluma, the heiress. You willforget me and be happy."

Poor little, neglected, unloved bride, sofair, so young, so fragile, out alonefacing the dark terrors of the night,fleeing from the young husband whowas wearing his life out in grief for her.Ah, if the gentle winds sighing aboveher, or the solemn, nodding trees hadonly told her, how different her lifemight have been!

"No one has ever loved me but poorold Uncle John!" She bent her fair

young head and cried out to Heaven:"Why has no mercy been shown to meI have never done one wrong, yet I amso sorely tried. Oh, mother, mother!"she cried, raising her blue eyes up to thestarry sky, "if you could have foreseenthe dark, cruel shadows that wouldhave folded their pitiless wings over thehead of your child, would you not havetaken me with you down into thedepths of the seething waters " Sheraised up her white hands pleadingly asthough she would fain pierce with herwrongs the blue skies, and reach thegreat White Throne. "I must be goingmad," she said. "Why did Rex seek meout " she cried, in anguish. "Why didHeaven let me love him so madly, and

my whole life be darkened by livingapart from him if I am to live I had nothought of suffering and sorrow whenI met him that summer morning. Arethe summer days to pass and neverbring him Are the flowers to bloom,the sun to shine, the years to come andgo, yet never bring him once to me Ican not bear it I do not know how tolive!"

If she could only see poor old, faithfulJohn Brooks again she would kneel athis feet just as she had done when shewas a little child, lay her weary headdown on his toil-hardened hand, tellhim how she had suffered, and ask himhow she could die and end it all.

She longed so hungrily for some one tocaress her, murmuring tender wordsover her. She could almost hear hisvoice saying as she told him her pitifulstory: "Come to my arms, pet, my poorlittle trampled Daisy! You shall neverwant for some one to love you whilepoor old Uncle John lives. Bless yourdear little heart!"

The longing was strongly upon her. Noone would recognize her she must goand see poor old John. She neverthought what would become of her lifeafter that.

At the station she asked for a ticket for

Allendale. No one seemed to know ofsuch a place. After a prolonged searchon the map the agent discovered it tobe a little inland station not far fromBaltimore.

"We can sell you a ticket for Baltimore,"he said, "and there you can purchase aticket for the other road."

And once again poor little Daisy waswhirling rapidly toward the scene ofher first great sorrow.

Time seemed to slip by her unheededduring all that long, tedious journey oftwo nights and a day.

"Are you going to Baltimore " asked agentle-faced lady, who was strangelyattracted to the beautiful, sorrowfulyoung girl, in which all hope, life, andsunshine seemed dead.

"Yes, madame," she made answer, "Ichange cars there; I am going further."

The lady was struck by the peculiarmournful cadence of the young voice.

"I beg your pardon for my seemingrudeness," she said, looking long andearnestly at the fair young face; "butyou remind me so strangely of a youngschool-mate of my youth; you arestrangely like what she was then. We

both attended Madame Whitney'sseminary. Perhaps you have heard ofthe institution; it is a very old and justlyfamous school." She wondered at thebeautiful flush that stole into the girl'sflower-like face like the soft, fainttinting of a sea-shell. "She married awealthy planter," pursued the lady,reflectively; "but she did not live longto enjoy her happy home. One shortyear after she married Evalia Hurlhurstdied." The lady never forgot the strangeglance that passed over the girl's face, orthe wonderful light that seemed tobreak over it. "Why," exclaimed the lady,as if a sudden thought occurred to her,"when you bought your ticket I heardyou mention Allendale. That was the

home of the Hurlhursts. Is it possibleyou know them Mr. Hurlhurst is awidower something of a recluse, andan invalid, I have heard; he has adaughter called Pluma."

"Yes, madame," Daisy made answer, "Ihave met Miss Hurlhurst, but not herfather."

How bitterly this stranger's wordsseemed to mock her! Did she knowPluma Hurlhurst, the proud, haughtyheiress who had stolen her younghusband's love from her the dark,sparkling, willful beauty who hadcrossed her innocent young life sostrangely whom she had seen bending

over her husband in the pityingmoonlight almost caressing him Shethought she would cry out with thebitterness of the thought. How strangeit was! The name, Evalia Hurlhurst,seemed to fall upon her ears like thesoftest, sweetest music. Perhaps shewished she was like that young wife,who had died so long ago, restingquietly beneath the white daisies thatbore her name.

"That is Madame Whitney's," exclaimedthe lady, leaning forward toward thewindow excitedly. "Dear me! I canalmost imagine I am a young girl again.Why, what is the matter, my dear Youlook as though you were about to

faint."

The train whirled swiftly past thebroad, glittering Chesapeake on oneside, and the closely shaven lawn of theseminary on the other. It was evidentlyrecess. Young girls were flitting hereand there under the trees, as pretty apicture of happy school life as onewould wish to see. It seemed to poorhapless Daisy long ages must havepassed since that morning poor oldJohn Brooks had brought her, a shy,blushing, shrinking country lassie,among those daintily attired, aristocraticmaidens, who had laughed at her coy,timid mannerism, and at the clothespoor John wore, and at his flaming red

cotton neckerchief.

She had not much time for furthercontemplation. The train steamed intothe Baltimore depot, and she feltherself carried along by the surgingcrowd that alighted from the train.

She did not go into the waiting-room;she had quite forgotten she was not atthe end of her journey.

She followed the crowds along thebustling street, a solitary, desolate,heart-broken girl, with a weary whiteface whose beautiful, tender eyeslooked in vain among the throngs thatpassed her by for one kindly face or a

sympathetic look.

Some pushed rudely by her, otherslooked into the beautiful face with anugly smile. Handsomely got-up dandies,with fine clothes and no brains, noddedfamiliarly as Daisy passed them. Somelaughed, and others scoffed and jeered;but not one dear Heaven! not oneamong the vast throng gave her a kindlyglance or a word. Occasionally one,warmer hearted than the others, wouldlook sadly on that desolate, beautiful,childish face.

A low moan she could scarcely repressbroke from her lips. A handsomelydressed child, who was rolling a hoop

in front of her, turned aroundsuddenly and asked her if she was ill.

"Ill " She repeated the word with avague feeling of wonder. What wasphysical pain to the torture that waseating away her young life Ill Why, allthe illness in the world put togethercould not cause the anguish she wassuffering then the sting of a brokenheart.

She was not ill only desolate andforsaken.

Poor Daisy answered in such a vaguemanner that she quite frightened thechild, who hurried away as fast as she

could with her hoop, pausing now andthen to look back at the white, forlornface on which the sunshine seemed tocast such strange shadows.

On and on Daisy walked, little heedingwhich way she went. She saw whatappeared to be a park on ahead, andthere she bent her steps. The shadyseats among the cool green grassesunder the leafy trees looked inviting.She opened the gate and entered. Asudden sense of dizziness stole overher, and her breath seemed to come inquick, convulsive gasps.

"Perhaps God has heard my prayer,Rex, my love," she sighed. "I am sick

and weary unto death. Oh, Rex Rex "

The beautiful eyelids fluttered over thesoft, blue eyes, and with that dearlyloved name on her lips, the poor littlechild-bride sunk down on the cold,hard earth in a death-like swoon.

"Oh, dear me, Harvey, who in the worldis this " cried a little, pleasant-voicedold lady, who had witnessed the younggirl enter the gate, and saw her staggerand fall. In a moment she had fluttereddown the path, and was kneeling byDaisy's side.

"Come here, Harvey," she called; "it is ayoung girl; she has fainted."

Mr. Harvey Tudor, the celebrateddetective, threw away the cigar he hadbeen smoking, and hastened to hiswife's side.

"Isn't she beautiful " cried the little lady,in ecstasy. "I wonder who she is, andwhat she wanted."

"She is evidently a stranger, and calledto consult me professionally,"responded Mr. Tudor; "she must bebrought into the house."

He lifted the slight, delicate figure in hisarms, and bore her into the house.

"I am going down to the office now,my dear," he said; "we have someimportant cases to look after thismorning. I will take a run up in thecourse of an hour or so. If the younggirl should recover and wish to see mevery particularly, I suppose you willhave to send for me. Don't get me awayup here unless you find out the case isimperative."

And with a good-humored nod, theshrewd detective, so quiet anddomesticated at his own fireside,walked quickly down the path to thegate, whistling softly to himselfthinking with a strange, puzzledexpression in his keen blue eyes, of

Daisy. Through all of his businesstransactions that morning the beautiful,childish face was strangely before hismind's eye.

"Confound it!" he muttered, seizing hishat, "I must hurry home and find outat once who that pretty little creature isand what she wants."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

The sunny summer days came andwent, lengthening themselves into longweeks before Daisy Brooks opened hereyes to consciousness. No clew could

be found as to who the beautiful youngstranger was.

Mr. Tudor had proposed sending her tothe hospital but to this proposition hiswife would not listen.

"No, indeed, Harvey," she exclaimed,twisting the soft, golden curls over herwhite fingers, "she shall stay here whereI can watch over her myself, poor littledear."

"You amaze me, my dear," expostulatedher husband, mildly. "You can not tellwho you may be harboring."

"Now, Harvey," exclaimed the little

woman, bending over the beautiful,still, white face resting against thecrimson satin pillow, "don't insinuatethere could be anything wrong withthis poor child. My woman's judgmenttells me she is as pure as those lilies inyonder fountain's bed."

"If you had seen as much of the worldas I have, my dear, you would take littlestock in the innocence of beautifulwomen; very homely women are rarelydangerous."

"There is no use in arguing the point,Harvey. I have determined she shall notbe sent to the hospital, and she shallstay here."

Mrs. Tudor carried the point, as shealways did in every argument.

"Well, my dear, if any ill consequencesarise from this piece of folly of yours,remember, I shirk all responsibility."

"'When a woman will, she will, you maydepend on't, And when she won't shewon't, and there's an end on't,'"

he quoted, dryly. "I sincerely hope youwill not rue it."

"Now, you would be surprised, mydear, to find out at some future timeyou had been entertaining an angel

unawares."

"I should be extremely surprised; youhave put it mildly, my dear nay, I maysay dumbfounded to find an angeldwelling down here below among ussinners. My experience has led me tobelieve the best place for angels is upabove where they belong. I am glad thatyou have such pretty little notions,though, my dear. It is not best forwomen to know too much of the waysof the world."

"Harvey, you shock me!" cried the littlelady, holding up her hands in horror ather liege lord's remarks.

Still she had her own way in the matter,and Daisy stayed.

Every day the detective grew moremystified as to who in the world shecould be. One thing was certain, shehad seen some great trouble which bidfair to dethrone her reason.

At times she would clasp his hands,calling him Uncle John, begging himpiteously to tell her how she could die.And she talked incoherently, too, of adark, handsome woman's face, that hadcome between her and some losttreasure.

Then a grave look would come into the

detective's face. He had seen many suchcases, and they always ended badly, hesaid to himself. She had such aninnocent face, so fair, so childish, hecould not make up his mind whethershe was sinned against or had beenguilty of a hidden sin herself.

Love must have something to do withit, he thought, grimly. Whenever he sawsuch a hopeless, despairing look on ayoung and beautiful face he always setit down as a love case in his own mind,and in nine cases out of ten he wasright.

"Ah! it is the old, old story," hemuttered. "A pretty, romantic school-

girl, and some handsome, recklesslover," and something very much likean imprecation broke from his lips,thorough man of the world though hewas, as he ruminated on the wickednessof men.

Two days before the marriage of Rexand Pluma was to be solemnized, poorlittle Daisy awoke to consciousness, herblue eyes resting on the joyous face ofMrs. Tudor, who bent over her withbated breath, gazing into the upraisedeyes, turned so wonderingly upon her.

"You are to keep perfectly quiet, mydear," said Mrs. Tudor, pleasantly, layingher hands on Daisy's lips as she

attempted to speak. "You must not tryto talk or to think; turn your face fromthe light, and go quietly to sleep for abit, then you shall say what you please."

Daisy wondered who the lady was, asshe obeyed her like an obedient, tiredchild the voice seemed so motherly, sokind, and so soothing, as she lay there,trying to realize how she came there.Slowly all her senses struggled into life,her memory came back, her mind andbrain grew clear. Then she rememberedwalking into the cool, shady garden,and the dizziness which seemed to fallover her so suddenly. "I must havefainted last night," she thought. Shealso remembered Pluma bending so

caressingly over her young husband inthe moonlight, and that the sight hadalmost driven her mad, and, despite herefforts to suppress her emotion, shebegan to sob aloud.

Mrs. Tudor hurried quickly to thebedside. She saw at once the ice fromthe frozen fountain of memory hadmelted.

"If you have any great sorrow on yourmind, my dear, and wish to see Mr.Tudor, I will call him at once. He is inthe parlor."

"Please don't," sobbed Daisy. "I don'twant to see anybody. I must go home

to Uncle John at once. Have I been hereall night "

"Why, bless your dear little heart, youhave been here many a night and manya week. We thought at one time youwould surely die."

"I wish I had," moaned Daisy. In thebitterness of her sorely wounded heartshe said to herself that Providence haddone everything for her without takingher life.

"We thought," pursued Mrs. Tudor,gently, "that perhaps you desired to seemy husband he is a detective uponsome matter. You fainted when you

were just within the gate."

"Was it your garden " asked Daisy,surprisedly. "I thought it was a park!"

"Then you were not in search of Mr.Tudor, my dear " asked his wife, quitemystified.

"No," replied Daisy. "I wanted to getaway from every one who knew me, orevery one I knew, except Uncle John."

"I shall not question her concerningherself to-day," Mrs. Tudor thought. "Iwill wait a bit until she is stronger." Shefelt delicate about even asking hername. "She will seek my confidence

soon," she thought. "I must wait."

Mrs. Tudor was a kind-hearted littlesoul. She tried every possible means ofdiverting Daisy's attention from theabsorbing sorrow which seemedconsuming her.

She read her choice, sparklingparagraphs from the papers,commenting upon them, in a pretty,gossiping way.

Nothing seemed to interest the prettylittle creature, or bring a smile to thequivering, childish lips.

"Ah! here is something quite racy!" she

cried, drawing her chair up closer to thebedside. "A scandal in high life. This issure to be entertaining."

Mrs. Tudor was a good little woman,but, like all women in general, shedelighted in a spicy scandal.

A handsome stranger had married abeautiful heiress. For a time all wentmerry as a marriage-bell. Suddenly asecond wife appeared on the scene, ofwhich no one previously knew theexistence. The husband had sincerelybelieved himself separated by law fromwife number one, but through sometechnicality of the law, the separationwas pronounced illegal, and the

beautiful heiress bitterly realized to hercost that she was no wife.

"It must be a terrible calamity to beplaced in such a predicament," criedMrs. Tudor, energetically. "I blame thehusband for not finding out beyond adoubt that he was free from his firstwife."

A sudden thought seemed to come toDaisy, so startling it almost took herbreath away.

"Supposing a husband left his wife, andafterward thought her dead, eventhough she were not, and he shouldmarry again, would it not be legal

Supposing the poor, deserted wifeknew of it, but allowed him to marrythat some one else, because shebelieved he was unhappy with herself,would it not be legal " she repeated inan intense voice, striving to appearcalm.

"I can scarcely understand the question,my dear. I should certainly say, if thefirst wife knew her husband was aboutto remarry, and she knew she was notseparated from him by law or death,she was certainly a criminal in allowingthe ceremony to proceed. Why, did youever hear of such a peculiar case, mydear "

"No," replied Daisy, flushing crimson."I was thinking of Enoch Arden."

"Why, there is scarcely a feature inEnoch Arden's case resembling the oneyou have just cited. You must havemade a mistake "

"Yes; you are right. I have made amistake," muttered Daisy, growingdeadly pale. "I did not know. I believedit was right."

"You believed what was right " askedMrs. Tudor, in amazement.

"I believed it was right for the first wifeto go out of her husband's life if she

had spoiled it, and leave him free towoo and win the bride he loved,"replied Daisy, pitifully embarrassed.

"Why, you innocent child," laughedMrs. Tudor, "I have said he would notbe free as long as the law did notseparate him from his first wife, andshe was alive. It is against the law ofHeaven for any man to have two wives;and if the first wife remained silent andsaw the sacred ceremony profaned bythat silence, she broke the law ofHeaven a sin against God beyondpardon. Did you speak " she asked,seeing Daisy's white lips move.

She did not know a prayer had gone up

to God from that young tortured heartfor guidance.

Had she done wrong in letting Rex andthe whole world believe her dead Was itever well to do a wrong that goodshould come from it

And the clear, innocent, simpleconscience was quick to answer, "No!"

Poor Daisy looked at the position inevery possible way, and the more shereflected the more frightened shebecame.

Poor, little, artless child-bride, she wascompletely bewildered. She could find

no way out of her difficulty until theidea occurred to her that the bestperson to help her would be JohnBrooks; and her whole heart and soulfastened eagerly on this.

She could not realize she had lain ill solong. Oh, Heaven, what might havehappened in the meantime, if Rexshould marry Pluma She would not behis wife because she who was a barrierbetween them lived.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Daisy had decided the great question

of her life. Yes, she would go to JohnBrooks with her pitiful secret, and,kneeling at his feet, tell him all, and beguided by his judgment.

"I can never go back to Rex," shethought, wearily. "I have spoiled his life;he does not love me; he wished to befree and marry Pluma."

"You must not think of the troubles ofother people, my dear," said Mrs.Tudor, briskly, noting the thoughtfulexpression of the fair young face."Such cases as I have just read you arefortunately rare. I should not have readyou the scandals. Young girls like tohear about the marriages best. Ah! here

is one that is interesting a grandwedding which is to take place atWhitestone Hall, in Allendale, to-morrow night. I have read of it before;it will be a magnificent affair. Thehusband-to-be, Mr. Rexford Lyon, isvery wealthy; and the bride, Miss PlumaHurlhurst, is quite a society belle abeauty and an heiress."

Poor Daisy! although she had longexpected it, the announcement seemedlike a death-blow to her loving littleheart; in a single instant all heryearning, passionate love for herhandsome young husband awoke intonew life.

She had suddenly awakened to theawful reality that her husband wasabout to marry another.

"Oh, pitiful Heaven, what shall I do "she cried, wringing her hands. "I will betoo late to warn them. Yet I must Imust! It must not be!" she cried out toherself; "the marriage would be wrong."If she allowed it to go on, she wouldbe guilty of a crime; therefore, she mustprevent it.

Pluma was her mortal enemy. Yet shemust warn her that the flower-coveredpath she was treading led to a precipice.The very thought filled her soul withhorror.

She wasted no more time in thinking,she must act.

"I can not go to poor old Uncle Johnfirst," she told herself. "I must go atonce to Pluma. Heaven give mestrength to do it. Rex will never know,and I can go quietly out of his lifeagain."

The marriage must not be! Say, think,argue with herself as she would, shecould not help owning to herself that itwas something that must be stopped atany price. She had not realized it in itstrue light before. She had had a vagueidea that her supposed death would

leave Rex free to marry Pluma. Thatwrong could come of it, in any way, shenever once dreamed.

The terrible awakening truth hadflashed upon her suddenly; she mighthide herself forever from her husband,but it would not lessen the fact; she,and she only, was his lawful wife beforeGod and man. From Heaven nothingcould be hidden.

Her whole heart seemed to go out toher young husband and cling to him asit had never done before.

"What a fatal love mine was!" she saidto herself; "how fatal, how cruel to

me!"

To-morrow night! Oh, Heaven! wouldshe be in time to save him The verythought seemed to arouse all herenergy.

"Why, what are you going to do, mydear " cried Mrs. Tudor, inconsternation, as Daisy staggered, weakand trembling, from her couch.

"I am going away," she cried. "I havebeen guilty of a great wrong. I can nottell you all that I have done, but I mustatone for it if it is in my power whileyet there is time. Pity me, but do notcensure me;" and sobbing as if her

heart would break, she knelt at the feetof the kind friend Heaven had givenher and told her all.

Mrs. Tudor listened in painful interestand amazement. It was a strange storythis young girl told her; it seemed morelike a romance than a page from life'shistory.

"You say you must prevent thismarriage at Whitestone Hall." She tookDaisy's clasped hands from herweeping face, and holding them in herown looked into it silently, keenly,steadily. "How could you do it What isRexford Lyon to you "

Lower and lower drooped the goldenbowed head, and a voice like no othervoice, like nothing human, said:

"I am Rex Lyon's wife, his wretched,unhappy, abandoned wife."

Mrs. Tudor dropped her hands with alow cry of dismay.

"You will keep my secret," sobbedDaisy; and in her great sorrow she didnot notice the lady did not promise.

In vain Mrs. Tudor pleaded with her togo back to her husband and beg him tohear her.

"No," said Daisy, brokenly. "He said Ihad spoiled his life, and he would neverforgive me. I have never taken his name,and I never shall. I will be DaisyBrooks until I die."

"Daisy Brooks!" The name seemedfamiliar to Mrs. Tudor, yet she couldnot tell where she had heard it before.

Persuasion was useless. "PerhapsHeaven knows best," sighed Mrs.Tudor, and with tears in her eyes (forshe had really loved the beautiful youngstranger, thrown for so many longweeks upon her mercy and kindness)she saw Daisy depart.

"May God grant you may not be toolate!" she cried, fervently, clasping theyoung girl, for the last time, in her arms.

Too late! The words sounded like afatal warning to her. No, no; she couldnot, she must not, be too late!

* * * * *

At the very moment Daisy had left thedetective's house, Basil Hurlhurst wascloseted with Mr. Tudor in his privateoffice, relating minutely thedisappearance of his infant daughter, astold him by the dying housekeeper,Mrs. Corliss.

"I will make you a rich man for life," hecried, vehemently, "if you can trace mylong-lost child, either dead or alive!"

Mr. Tudor shook his head. "I aminclined to think there is little hope,after all these years."

"Stranger things than that havehappened," cried Basil Hurlhurst,tremulously. "You must give me hope,Mr. Tudor. You are a skillful, expertdetective; you will find her, if any onecan. If my other child were living," hecontinued, with an effort, "you know itwould make considerable difference inthe distribution of my property. On thenight my lost child was born I made my

will, leaving Whitestone Hall and theHurlhurst Plantations to the child justborn, and the remainder of my vastestates I bequeathed to my daughterPluma. I believed my little child buriedwith its mother, and in all these yearsthat followed I never changed that willit still stands. My daughter Pluma is tobe married to-morrow night. I have nottold her of the startling discovery Ihave made; for if anything shouldcome of it, her hopes of a lifetimewould be dashed. She believes herselfsole heiress to my wealth. I have madeup my mind, however," he continued,eagerly, "to confide in the young manwho is to be my future son-in-law. Ifnothing ever comes of this affair,

Pluma need never know of it."

"That would be a wise and safe plan,"assented the detective.

"Wealth can have no influence overhim," continued the father, reflectively;"for Mr. Rex Lyon's wealth is sufficientfor them, even if they never had asingle dollar from me; still, it is best tomention this matter to him."

Rex Lyon! Ah! the detectiveremembered him well the handsome,debonair young fellow who had soughthis services some time since, whosewife had died such a tragic death. Heremembered how sorry he had been for

the young husband; still he made nocomment. He had little time toruminate upon past affairs. It was hisbusiness now to glean from Mr.Hurlhurst all the information possibleto assist him in the difficult search hewas about to commence. If he gavehim even the slightest clew, he couldhave had some definite starting point.The detective was wholly at sea it waslike looking for a needle in a hay-stack.

"You will lose no time," said BasilHurlhurst, rising to depart. "Ah!" heexclaimed, "I had forgotten to leave youmy wife's portrait. I have a fancy thechild, if living, must have her mother'sface."

At that opportune moment some oneinterrupted them. Mr. Tudor had nottime to open the portrait and examine itthen, and, placing it securely in hisprivate desk, he courteously bade Mr.Hurlhurst good-afternoon; adding, ifhe should find a possible clew, he wouldlet him know at once, or, perhaps, takea run up to Whitestone Hall to lookaround a bit among the old inhabitantsof that locality.

It was almost time for quitting theoffice for the night, when the detectivethought of the portrait. He untied thefaded blue ribbon, and touched thespring; the case flew open, revealing a

face that made him cry out inamazement:

"Pshaw! people have a strange trick ofresembling each other very often," hemuttered; "I must be mistaken."

Yet the more he examined the fair,bewitching face of the portrait, with itschildish face and sunny, golden curls,the more he knit his brow and whistledsoftly to himself a habit he had whenthinking deeply.

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 hesaw that her eyes were red withweeping.

"What is the commotion, my dear " heasked, hanging his hat and coat on thehat-rack in the hall. "What's thedifficulty "

"Our protegee has gone, Harvey; she "

"Gone!" yelled the detective, frantically,"where did she go How long has shebeen gone "

Down from the rack came his hat and

coat.

"Where are you going, Harvey "

"I am going to hunt that girl up just asfast 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 haveno idea where she went, have you "

"Wait a bit, Harvey," she replied, amerry twinkle in her eye. "You havegiven me no time to tell you. I do knowwhere she went. Sit down and I will tellyou all about it."

"You will make a long story out ofnothing," he exclaimed, impatiently;"and fooling my time here may cost mea fortune."

Very reluctantly Mr. Tudor resumed hisseat at his wife's earnest persuasion.

"Skim lightly over the details, my dear;just give me the main points," he said.

Like the good little wife she was, Mrs.Tudor obediently obeyed.

It was not often the cool, calculatingdetective allowed himself to get excited,but as she proceeded he jumped up

from his seat, and paced restlessly upand down the room. He was literallyastounded.

"Rex Lyon's wife," he mused,thoughtfully. "Well, in all the years ofmy experience I have never come acrossanything like this. She has gone toWhitestone Hall, you say, to stop themarriage " he questioned, eagerly.

"Yes," she replied, "the poor child wasalmost frantic over it. You seem greatlyagitated, Harvey. Have you some newcase connected with her "

"Yes," he answered, grimly. "I think Ihave two cases."

Mr. Tudor seldom brought his businessperplexities to his fireside. His little wifeknew as little of business matters as thesparrows twittering on the branches ofthe trees out in the garden.

He made up his mind not to mentioncertain suspicions that had lodged inhis mind until he saw his way clearlyout of the complicated affair.

He determined it would do no harm totry an experiment, however. Suiting theaction to the thought, he drew out theportrait from his pocket.

"I do not think I shall have as much

trouble with this affair as I anticipated."

Mrs. Tudor came and leaned over hisshoulder.

"Whose picture have you there, HarveyWhy, I declare," she cried, inamazement, "if it isn't Daisy Brooks!"

"Mrs. Rex Lyon, you mean," said thedetective, with a sly twinkle in his eye."But for once in your life you are at seaand far from shore; this portraitrepresents a different person altogether.Come, come, wife, get me a cup of teaquick and a biscuit," he cried, leadingthe way to the kitchen, where thesavory supper was cooking. "I haven't

time to wait for tea, I must overtakethat girl before she reaches WhitestoneHall."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

The shade of night was wrapping itsdusky mantle over the earth as Daisy,flushed and excited, and trembling inevery limb, alighted from the train atAllendale.

Whitestone Hall was quite a distancefrom the station; she had quite a walkbefore her.

Not a breath of air seemed to stir thebranches of the trees, and the inkyblackness of the sky presaged thecoming storm.

Since dusk the coppery haze seemed togather itself together; great purplemasses of clouds piled themselves inthe sky; a lurid light overspread theheavens, and now and then the dense,oppressive silence was broken bydistant peals of thunder, accompaniedby great fierce rain-drops.

Daisy drew her cloak closer about her,struggling bravely on through thestorm and the darkness, her heartbeating so loudly she wondered it did

not break.

Poor child! how little she knew she wasfast approaching the crisis of her life!

She remembered, with a little sob, thelast time she had traversed that road shewas seated by John Brooks's sidestraining her eyes toward the bend inthe road, watching eagerly for the firstglimpse of the magnolia-tree, and thehandsome young husband waitingthere.

Coy blushes suffused Daisy's cheeks asshe struggled on through the pouringrain. She forgot she was a wretched,unpitied, forsaken little bride, on a

mission of such great importance. Shewas only a simple child, after all, losingsight of all the whole world, as herthoughts dwelt on the handsomeyoung fellow, her husband in nameonly, whom she saw waiting for her atthe trysting-place, looking so cool, sohandsome and lovable in his whitelinen suit and blue tie; his white strawhat, with the blue-dotted band aroundit, lying on the green grass beside him,and the sunshine drifting through thegreen leaves on his smiling face andbrown, curling hair.

"If Rex had only known I wasinnocent, he could not have judged meso harshly. Oh, my love my love!" she

cried out. "Heaven must have made usfor each other, but a fate more cruelthan death has torn us asunder. Oh,Rex, my love, if you had only beenmore patient with me!"

She crept carefully along the roadthrough the intense darkness and thedown-pouring rain. She knew everyinch of the ground. She could not loseher way. She reached the turn in theroad which was but a few feet distantfrom the magnolia-tree where first shehad met Rex and where she had seenhim last a few steps more and shewould reach it.

A blinding glare of lightning lighted up

the scene for one brief instant; therewas the tree, but, oh! was it only a fancyof her imagination she thought she sawa man's figure kneeling under it.

"Who was he, and what was he doingthere " she wondered. She stood rootedto the spot. "Perhaps he had takenrefuge there from the fury of thestorm."

Daisy was a shrinking, timid littlecreature; she dared not move a stepfurther, although the golden momentsthat flitted by were as precious as herlife-blood.

She drew back, faint with fear, among

the protecting shadows of the trees.Another flash of light the man wassurely gathering wild flowers from therain-drenched grass.

"Surely the man must be mad," thoughtDaisy, with a cold thrill of horror.

Her limbs trembled so from sheerfright they refused to bear her slightweight, and with a shudder of terrorshe sunk down in the wet grass, hereyes fixed as one fascinated on thefigure under the tree, watching his everymovement, as the lurid lightningillumined the scene at brief intervals.

The great bell from the turret of

Whitestone Hall pealed the hour ofseven, and in the lightning's flash shesaw the man arise from his knees; inone hand he held a small bunch offlowers, the other was pressed over hisheart.

Surely there was something strangelyfamiliar in that graceful form; then heturned his face toward her.

In that one instantaneous glance shehad recognized him it was Rex, herhusband as he turned hastily from thespot, hurrying rapidly away in thedirection 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, bewildered way. "Whatcould it mean " She had heard theceremony was to be performedpromptly at half past eight, it was sevenalready. "What could it mean "

She had been too much startled anddismayed when she found it was Rex tomake herself known. Ah, no, Rex mustnever know she was so near him; it wasPluma she must see.

"Why had he come to the magnolia-tree" she asked herself over and over again.A moment later she had reached theself-same spot, and was kneeling

beneath the tree, just as Rex had done.She put out her little white hand tocaress the grass upon which herhusband had knelt, but it was not grasswhich met her touch, but a bed offlowers; that was strange, too.

She never remembered flowers to growon that spot. There was nothing but thesoft carpet of green grass, sheremembered.

One or two beneath her touch werebroken from the stem. She knew Rexmust have dropped them, and the poorlittle soul pressed the flowers to herlips, murmuring passionate, lovingwords over them. She did not know the

flowers were daisies; yet they seemed sofamiliar to the touch.

She remembered how she had walkedhome from the rectory with Rex in themoonlight, and thought to herself howfunny it sounded to hear Rex call herhis wife, in that rich melodious voiceof his. Septima had said it was such aterrible thing to be married. She hadfound it just the reverse, as she glancedup into her pretty young husband'sface, as they walked home together; andhow well she remembered how Rexhad taken her in his arms at the gate,kissing her rosy, blushing face, until shecried out for mercy.

A sudden, blinding flash of lightninglighted up the spot with a lurid light,and she saw a little white cross, withwhite daisies growing around it, andupon the cross, in that one meteoricflash, she read the words, "Sacred to thememory of Daisy Brooks."

She did not faint, or cry out, or utterany word. She realized all in an instantwhy Rex had been there. Perhaps he feltsome remorse for casting her off socruelly. If some tender regret for her,whom he supposed dead, was notstirring in his heart, why was he there,kneeling before the little cross whichbore her name, on his wedding-night

Could it be that he had ever loved herShe held out her arms toward theblazing lights that shone in the distancefrom Whitestone Hall, with a yearning,passionate cry. Surely, hers was thesaddest fate that had ever fallen to thelot of a young girl.

A great thrill of joy filled her heart, thatshe was able to prevent the marriage.

She arose from her knees and made herway swiftly through the storm and thedarkness, toward the distant cottonfields. She did not wish to enter theHall by the main gate; there was a smallpath, seldom used, that led to the Hall,which she had often taken from John

Brooks's cottage; that was the one shechose to-night.

Although the storm raged in all its furywithout, the interior of WhitestoneHall was ablaze with light, thatstreamed with a bright, golden glowfrom every casement.

Strains of music, mingled with the humof voices, fell upon Daisy's ear, as shewalked hurriedly up the path. Thedamp air that swept across her facewith the beating rain was odorous withthe perfume of rare exotics.

The path up which she walkedcommanded a full view of Pluma

Hurlhurst's boudoir.

The crimson satin curtains, for somereason, were still looped back, and shecould see the trim little maid arrangingher long dark hair; she wore a silver-white dressing-robe, bordered aroundwith soft white swan's-down and herdainty white satin-slippered feet restedon a crimson velvet hassock.

"How beautiful she is!" thought thepoor little child-wife, wistfully gazing ather fair, false enemy. "I can not wonderRex is dazzled by her peerless, royalbeauty. I was mad to indulge the fatal,foolish dream that he could ever loveme, poor, plain little Daisy Brooks."

Daisy drew her cloak closer about her,and her thick veil more securely overher face. As she raised the huge brassknocker her heart beat pitifully, yet shetold herself she must be brave to thebitter end.

One, two, three minutes passed. Was noone coming to answer the summonsYes some one came at last, a sprucelittle French maid, whom Daisy neverremembered having seen before.

She laughed outright when Daisyfalteringly stated her errand.

"You are mad to think mademoiselle

will see you to-night," she answered,contemptuously. "Do you not knowthis is her wedding-night "

"She is not married yet " cried Daisy, ina low, wailing voice. "Oh, I must seeher!"

With a quizzical expression crossingher face the girl shrugged hershoulders, as she scanned the little dark,dripping figure, answering mockingly:

"The poor make one grand mistake,insisting on what the rich must do. I sayagain, my lady will not see you you hadbetter go about your business."

"Oh, I must see her! indeed, I must!"pleaded Daisy. "Your heart, dear girl, ishuman, and you can see my anguish isno light one."

Her courage and high resolve seemedto give way, and she wept as womenweep only once in a lifetime but theheart of the French maid was obdurate.

"Mademoiselle would only be angry,"she said; "it would be as much as myplace is worth to even mention you toher."

"But my errand can brook no delay,"urged Daisy. "You do not realize," shegasped, brokenly, while her delicate

frame was shaken with sobs, and thehot tears fell like rain down her face.

"All that you say is useless," cried thegirl, impatiently, as she purposelyobstructed the passage-way, holding thedoorknob in her hand; "all your speechis in vain she will not see you, I say Iwill not take her your message."

"Then I will go to her myself," criedDaisy, in desperate determination.

"What's the matter, Marie " cried a shrillvoice from the head of the rose-lightedstairway; "what in the world keeps youdown there so long Come hereinstantly."

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 life anddeath; if you knew how vitallyimportant it was you would not refuseme," she panted.

Pluma Hurlhurst laughed a little hardlaugh that had no music in it.

"What would a hundred lives or deathsmatter to me " she said,

contemptuously. "I would not listen toyou ten minutes to-night if I actuallyknew it was to save your life," cried thehaughty beauty, stamping her slipperedfoot impatiently.

"It is for your own sake," pleadedDaisy. "See, I kneel to you, MissHurlhurst. If you would not commit acrime, I implore you by all you holdsacred, to hear me grant me but a fewbrief 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 driven to thevery verge of madness! Heaven pity methe bitter consequence must fall uponyour own head."

She turned away with a low, bitter cry,as the maid slammed the heavy oakendoor in her face.

"There is no other way for me to do,"she told herself, despairingly, "but tosee Rex. I do not know how I am goingto live through the ordeal of enteringhis presence listening to his voiceknowing I bring him such a burden ofwoe spoiling his life for the secondtime."

She did not hear the door quietlyreopen.

"I have heard all that has just passed,young lady," said a kind voice closebeside her. "I am extremely sorry foryou your case seems a pitiful one. I amsorry my daughter refused to see you;perhaps I can be of some assistance toyou. I am Miss Hurlhurst's father."

CHAPTER XXXVII.

For a moment Daisy stood irresolute."Follow me into my study, and tell meyour trouble. You say it concerns my

daughter. Perhaps I can advise you."

Ah, yes! he above all others could helpher he was Pluma's father he could stopthe fatal marriage. She would not beobliged to face Rex.

Without another word Daisy turnedand followed him. Although Daisy hadlived the greater portion of her life atJohn Brooks' cottage on the Hurlhurstplantation, this was the first time shehad ever gazed upon the face of therecluse master of Whitestone Hall. Hehad spent those years abroad; and poorDaisy's banishment dated from the timethe lawn fete had been given in honorof their return.

Daisy glanced shyly up through her veilwith a strange feeling of awe at thenoble face, with the deep lines ofsuffering around the mouth, as heopened his study door, and, with astately inclination of the head, bade herenter.

"His face is not like Pluma's," shethought, with a strange flutter at herheart. "He looks good and kind. I amsure I can trust him."

Daisy was quite confused as she tookthe seat he indicated. Mr. Hurlhurstdrew up his arm-chair opposite her,and waited with the utmost patience for

her to commence.

She arose and stood before him,clasping her trembling little whitehands together supplicatingly. He couldnot see her face, for she stood in theshadow, and the room was dimlylighted; but he knew that the sweet,pathetic voice was like the sound ofsilvery bells chiming some half-forgotten strain.

"I have come to tell you this weddingcan not must not go on to-night!" shecried, excitedly.

Basil Hurlhurst certainly thought theyoung girl standing before him must be

mad.

"I do not understand," he said, slowly,yet gently. "Why do you, a stranger,come to me on my daughter's wedding-night with such words as these Whatreason can you offer why this marriageshould not proceed "

He could not tell whether she hadheard his words or not, she stoodbefore him so silent, her little handsworking nervously together. She lookedwistfully into his face, and she drew herslender figure up to its full height, asshe replied, in a low, passionate, musicalvoice:

"Mr. Lyon can not marry yourdaughter, sir, for he has a living wife."

"Mr. Lyon has a wife " repeated BasilHurlhurst, literally dumbfounded withamazement. "In Heaven's name, explainyourself!" he cried, rising hastily fromhis chair and facing her.

The agitation on his face was almostalarming. His grand old face was aswhite as his linen. His eyes were full ofeager, painful suspense and excitement.With a violent effort at self-control herestrained his emotions, sinking back inhis arm-chair like one who had receivedan unexpected blow.

Daisy never remembered in what wordsshe told him the startling truth. Henever interrupted her until she hadquite finished.

"You will not blame Rex," she pleaded,her sweet voice choking with emotion;"he believes me dead."

Basil Hurlhurst did not answer; histhoughts were too confused. Yes, it wasbut too true the marriage could not goon. He reached hastily toward the bell-rope.

"You will not let my Rex know until Iam far away," she cried, piteously, as sheput her marriage certificate in Mr.

Hurlhurst's hand.

"I am going to send for Rex to comehere at once," he made answer.

With a low, agonized moan, Daisygrasped his outstretched hand, scarcelyknowing what she did.

"Oh, please do not, Mr. Hurlhurst," shesobbed. "Rex must not see me; I shoulddie if you sent for him; I could notbear it indeed, I could not." She waslooking at him, all her heart in her eyes,and, as if he felt magnetically the powerof her glance, he turned toward her,meeting the earnest gaze of the blue,uplifted eyes.

The light fell full upon her fair, flushedface, and the bonnet and veil she worehad fallen back from the golden head.

A sudden mist seemed to come beforehis eyes, and he caught his breath with asharp gasp.

"What did you say your name wasbefore you were married " he asked, ina low, intense voice. "I I did not quiteunderstand."

"Daisy Brooks, your overseer's niece,"she answered, simply.

She wondered why he uttered such a

dreary sigh as he muttered, half aloud,how foolish he was to catch at everystraw of hope.

Carefully he examined the certificate. Itwas too true. It certainly certifiedRexford Lyon and Daisy Brooks werejoined together in the bonds ofmatrimony nearly a year before. Andthen he looked at the paper containingthe notice of her tragic death, whichDaisy had read and carefully saved.Surely no blame could be attached toRex, in the face of these proofs.

He was sorry for the beautiful, haughtyheiress, to whom this terrible newswould be a great shock; he was sorry

for Rex, he had grown so warmlyattached to him of late, but he felt stillmore sorry for the fair child-bride,toward whom he felt such a yearning,sympathetic pity.

The great bell in the tower slowlypealed the hour of eight, with a dull,heavy clang, and he suddenly realizedwhat was to be done must be done atonce.

"I must send for both Rex and Pluma,"he said, laying his hands on thebeautiful, bowed head; "but, if it willcomfort you to be unobserved duringthe interview, you shall have yourwish." He motioned her to one of the

curtained recesses, and placed her in aneasy-chair. He saw she was tremblingviolently.

It was a hard ordeal for him to gothrough, but there was no alternative.

He touched the bell with a shakinghand, thrusting the certificate andpaper into his desk.

"Summon my daughter Pluma to me atonce," 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 Iwas coming to answer your bell I metJohn Brooks, your overseer, in the hallbelow. A stranger was with him, whorequested me to give you this withoutdelay."

Basil Hurlhurst broke open the seal.There were but a few penciled words,which ran as follows:

"MR. HURLHURST, Will you kindlygrant me an immediate interview I shalldetain you but a few moments.

"Yours, hastily, "HARVEY TUDOR,

"Of Tudor, Peck & Co, Detectives,Baltimore."

The man never forgot the cry that camefrom his master's lips as he read thosebrief words.

"Yes, tell him to come up at once," hecried; "I will see him here."

He forgot the message he had sent forPluma and Rex forgot the shrinking,timid little figure in the shadowydrapery of the curtains even the gayhum of the voices down below, and thestrains of music, or that the fatalmarriage moment was drawing near.

He was wondering if the detective'svisit brought him a gleam of hope.Surely he could have no other object incalling so hurriedly on this night aboveall other nights.

A decanter of wine always sat on thestudy table. He turned toward it nowwith feverish impatience, poured out afull glass with his nervous fingers, anddrained it at a single draught.

A moment later the detective and JohnBrooks, looking pale and considerablyexcited, were ushered into the study.

For a single instant the master ofWhitestone Hall glanced into the

detective's keen gray eyes for one ray ofhope, as he silently grasped hisextended hand.

"I see we are alone," said Mr. Tudor,glancing hurriedly around the room"we three, I mean," he added.

Suddenly Basil Hurlhurst thought ofthe young girl, quite hidden from view.

"No," he answered, leading the waytoward an inner room, separated fromthe study by a heavy silken curtain; "butin this apartment we shall certainly befree from interruption. Your facereveals nothing," he continued, in anagitated voice, "but I believe you have

brought me news of my child."

Basil Hurlhurst had no idea theconversation carried on in the smallapartment to which he had conductedthem could be overheard from thecurtained recess in which Daisy sat. Buthe was mistaken; Daisy could hearevery word of it.

She dared not cry out or walk forthfrom her place of concealment lest sheshould come suddenly face to face withRex.

As the light had fallen on John Brooks'honest face, how she had longed tospring forward with a glad little cry and

throw herself into his strong, shelteringarms! She wondered childishly why hewas there with Mr. Tudor, the detective,whose voice she had instantlyrecognized.

"I have two errands here to-night," saidthe detective, pleasantly. "I hope I shallbring good news, in one sense; theother we will discuss later on."

The master of Whitestone Hall madeno comments; still he wondered whythe detective had used the words "onesense." Surely, he thought, turning pale,his long-lost child could not be dead.

Like one in a dream, Daisy heard the

detective go carefully over the groundwith Basil Hurlhurst all the incidentsconnected with the loss of his child.Daisy listened out of sheer wonder. Shecould not tell why.

"I think we have the right clew,"continued the detective, "but we haveno actual proof to support oursupposition; there is one part stillcloudy."

There were a few low-murmured wordsspoken to John Brooks. There was amoment of silence, broken by heruncle John's voice. For several momentshe talked rapidly and earnestly,interrupted now and then by an

exclamation of surprise from themaster of Whitestone Hall.

Every word John Brooks utteredpierced Daisy's heart like an arrow. Sheuttered a little, sharp cry, but no oneheard her. She fairly held her breathwith intense interest. Then she heardthe detective tell them the story of RexLyon's marriage with her, and he hadcome to Whitestone Hall to stop theceremony about to be performed.

Basil Hurlhurst scarcely heeded hiswords. He had risen to his feet with agreat, glad cry, and pushed aside thesilken curtains that led to the study. Ashe did so he came face to face with

Daisy Brooks, standing motionless, likea statue, before him. Then she fell, witha low, gasping cry, senseless at BasilHurlhurst's feet.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Pluma Hurlhurst received her father'ssummons with no little surprise. "Whatcan that foolish old man want, Iwonder " she soliloquized, clasping thediamond-studded bracelets on herperfect arms. "I shall be heartily gladwhen I am Rex Lyon's wife. I shall soontell him, then, in pretty plain words, Iam not at his beck and call any longer.

Come to him instantly, indeed! I shallcertainly do no such thing," shemuttered.

"Did you speak, mademoiselle " askedthe maid.

"No," replied Pluma, glancing at thelittle jeweled watch that glittered in itssnow-white velvet case. She took it upwith a caressing movement. "Howfoolish I was to work myself up intosuch a fury of excitement, when Rexsent for me to present me with thejewels!" she laughed, softly, laying downthe watch, and taking up an exquisitejeweled necklace, admired the purityand beauty of the soft, white, gleaming

stones.

The turret-bell had pealed the hour ofeight; she had yet half an hour.

She never could tell what impulseprompted her to clasp the shining gemsaround her white throat, even beforeshe had removed her dressing-robe.

She leaned back dreamily in hercushioned chair, watching the effect inthe mirror opposite.

Steadfastly she gazed at the wondrousloveliness of the picture she made, thedark, lustrous eyes, gleaming withunwonted brilliancy, with their jetty

fringe; the rich, red lips, and glowingcheeks.

"There are few such faces in the world,"she told herself triumphantly.

Those were the happiest momentsproud, peerless Pluma Hurlhurst wasever to know "before the hour shouldwane the fruition of all her hopeswould be attained."

No feeling of remorse stole over her toimbitter the sweets of her triumphantthoughts.

She had lived in a world of her own,planning and scheming, wasting her

youth, her beauty, and her genius, toaccomplish the one great ultimatumwinning Rex Lyon's love.

She took from her bosom a tiny vial,containing a few white, flaky crystals. "Ishall not need this now," she toldherself. "If Lester Stanwick hadintended to interfere he would havedone so ere this; he has left me tomyself, realizing his threats were all invain; yet I have been sore afraid. Rexwill never know that I lied andschemed to win his love, or that Iplanned the removal of Daisy Brooksfrom his path so cleverly; he will neverknow that I have deceived him, or thewretched story of my folly and

passionate, perilous love. I could nothave borne the shame and theexposure; there would have been butone escape" quite unconsciously sheslid the vial into the pocket of hersilken robe "I have lived a coward's life;I should have died a coward's death."

"It is time to commence arranging yourtoilet, mademoiselle," said the maid,approaching her softly with the whiteglimmering satin robe, and fleecy veilover her arm. "My fingers are deft, butyou have not one moment to spare."

Pluma waved her off with animperious gesture.

"Not yet," she said. "I suppose I mightas well go down first as last to see whatin the world he wants with me; heshould have come to me if he hadwished to see me so very particularly;"and the dutiful daughter, throwing thetrain of her dress carelessly over herarm, walked swiftly through thebrilliantly lighted corridor toward BasilHurlhurst's study. She turned the knoband entered. The room was apparentlydeserted. "Not here!" she muttered,with surprise. "Well, my dear, capriciousfather, I shall go straight back to myapartments. You shall come to mehereafter." As she turned to retrace hersteps a hand was laid upon hershoulder, and a woman's voice

whispered close to her ear:

"I was almost afraid I should miss youfate is kind."

Pluma Hurlhurst recoiled from thetouch, fairly holding her breath,speechless with fury and astonishment.

"You insolent creature!" she cried. "Iwonder at your boldness in forcingyour presence upon me. Did I not haveyou thrust from the house an hour ago,with the full understanding I would notsee you, no matter who you were orwhom you wanted."

"I was not at the door an hour ago,"

replied the woman, coolly; "it musthave been some one else. I have beenhere to Whitestone Hall several timesbefore, but you have always eluded me.You shall not do so to-night. You shalllisten to what I have come to say toyou."

For once in her life the haughty, willfulheiress was completely taken aback, andshe sunk into the arm-chair so latelyoccupied by Basil Hurlhurst.

"I shall ring for the servants, and haveyou thrown from the house; suchimpudence is unheard of, youmiserable creature!"

She made a movement toward the bell-rope, but the woman hastily thrust herback into her seat, crossed over, turnedthe key in the lock, and hastily removedit. Basil Hurlhurst and John Brookswere about to rush to her assistance,but the detective suddenly thrust themback, holding up his hand warningly.

"Not yet," he whispered; "we will waituntil we know what this strange affairmeans. I shall request you both toremain perfectly quiet until by word orsignal I advise you to act differently."

And, breathless with interest, the three,divided only by the silken hangingcurtains, awaited eagerly further

developments of the strange scenebeing enacted before them.

Pluma's eyes flashed like ebony fires,and unrestrained passion was writtenon every feature of her face, as thewoman took her position directly infront of her with folded arms, and darkeyes gleaming quite as strangely as herown. Pluma, through sheerastonishment at her peculiar, deliberatemanner, was hushed into strangeexpectancy.

For some moments the woman gazedinto her face, coolly deliberately hereyes fastening themselves on thediamond necklace which clasped her

throat, quivering with a thousandgleaming lights.

"You are well cared for," she said, witha harsh, grating laugh, that vibratedstrangely on the girl's ear. "You have thegood things of life, while I have onlythe hardships. I am a fool to endure it. Ihave come to you to-night to help meand you must do it."

"Put the key in that door instantly, or Ishall cry out for assistance. I have heardof insolence of beggars, but certainlythis is beyond all imagination. Howdare you force your obnoxiouspresence upon me I will not listen toanother word; you shall suffer for this

outrage, woman! Open the doorinstantly, I say."

She did not proceed any further in herbreathless defiance of retort; thewoman coolly interrupted her with thatstrange, grating laugh again, as sheanswered, authoritatively:

"I shall not play at cross-purposes withyou any longer; it is plainly evidentthere is little affection lost between us.You will do exactly as I say, Pluma; youmay spare yourself a great deal that maybe unpleasant if you not only listen butquietly obey me. Otherwise "

Pluma sprung wildly to her feet.

"Obey you! obey you!"

She would have screamed the words inher ungovernable rage, had not a lookfrom this woman's eyes, who used hername with such ill-bred familiarity,actually frightened her.

"Be sensible and listen to what I intendyou shall hear, and, as I said and repeat,obey. You have made a slight mistake indefying me, young lady. I hoped andintended to be your friend and adviser;but since you have taken it into yourhead to show such an aversion to me, itwill be so much the worse for you, for Ifully intend you shall act hereafter

under my instructions; it has spoiledyou allowing you to hold the reins inyour own hands unchecked."

"Oh, you horrible creature! I shall haveyou arrested and "

The woman interrupted her gasping,vindictive words again, moreimperiously than before.

"Hush! not another word; you will nottell any one a syllable of what haspassed in this room."

"Do you dare threaten me in my ownhouse," cried Pluma, fairly besideherself with passion. "I begin to believe

you are not aware to whom you arespeaking. You shall not force me tolisten. I shall raise the window and cryout to the guests below."

"Very well, then. I find I am compelledto tell you something I never intendedyou should know something that,unless I am greatly mistaken in myestimate of you, will change your highand mighty notions altogether."

The woman was bending so near her,her breath almost scorched her cheek.

"I want money," she said, her thin lipsquivering in an evil smile, "and it is butright that you should supply me with it.

Look at the diamonds, representing afortune, gleaming on your throat, whileI am lacking the necessaries of life."

"What is that to me " cried Pluma,scornfully. "Allow me to pass from theroom, and I will send my maid back toyou with a twenty-dollar note. Mymoments are precious; do not detainme."

The woman laughed contemptuously.

"Twenty dollars, indeed!" she sneered,mockingly. "Twenty thousand will notanswer my purpose. From this timeforth I intend to live as befits a lady. Iwant that necklace you are wearing, as

security that you will produce therequired sum for me before to-morrownight."

The coarse proposal amazed Pluma.

"I thought Whitestone Hall especiallyguarded against thieves," she said,steadily. "You seem to be a desperatewoman; but I, Pluma Hurlhurst, do notfear you. We will pass over the remarksyou have just uttered as simply beyonddiscussion."

With a swift, gliding motion sheattempted to reach the bell-rope. Againthe woman intercepted her.

"Arouse the household if you dare!"hissed the woman, tightening her holdupon the white arm upon which thejewels flashed and quivered. "If BasilHurlhurst knew what I know youwould be driven from this house beforean hour had passed."

"I I do not know what you mean,"gasped Pluma, her great courage andfortitude sinking before this woman'sfearlessness and defiant authority.

"No, you don't know what I mean; andlittle you thank me for carrying thetreacherous secret since almost the hourof your birth. It is time for you toknow the truth at last. You are not the

heiress of Whitestone Hall you are notBasil Hurlhurst's child!"

Pluma's face grew deathly white; astrange mist seemed gathering beforeher.

"I can not seem to grasp what youmean, or who you are to terrify me so."

A mocking smile played about thewoman's lips as she replied, in a slow,even, distinct voice:

"I am your mother, Pluma!"

CHAPTER XXXIX.

At the self-same moment that the scenejust described was being enacted in thestudy Rex Lyon was pacing to and froin his room, waiting for the summonsof Pluma to join the bridal-party in thecorridor and adjourn to the parlorsbelow, where the guests and theminister awaited them.

He walked toward the window anddrew aside the heavy curtains. Thestorm was beating against the window-pane as he leaned his feverish faceagainst the cool glass, gazing out intothe impenetrable darkness without.

Try as he would to feel reconciled tohis marriage he could not do it. Howcould he promise at the altar to love,honor, and cherish the wife whom hewas about to wed

He might honor and cherish her, butlove her he could not, no matter for allthe promises he might make. Thepower of loving was directed fromHeaven above it was not for mortals toaccept or reject at will.

His heart seemed to cling with a strangerestlessness to Daisy, the fair little child-bride, whom he had loved sopassionately his first and only love,sweet little Daisy!

From the breast-pocket of his coat hetook the cluster of daisies he had gonethrough the storm on his wedding-night to gather. He was waiting untilthe monument should arrive before hecould gather courage to tell Pluma thesorrowful story of his love-dream.

All at once he remembered the letter astranger had handed him outside of theentrance gate. He had not thoughtmuch about the matter until now.Mechanically he picked it up from themantel, where he had tossed it uponentering the room, glancing carelessly atthe superscription. His countenancechanged when he saw it; his lips

trembled, and a hard, bitter light creptinto his brown eyes. He rememberedthe chirography but too well.

"From Stanwick!" he cried, leaningheavily against the mantel.

Rex read the letter through with aburning flush on his face, which grewwhite as with the pallor of death as heread; a dark mist was before his eyes,the sound of surging waters in his ears.

"OLD COLLEGE CHUM," it began,"For the sake of those happy hours ofour school-days, you will please favorme by reading what I have written tothe end.

"If you love Pluma Hurlhurst betterthan your sense of honor this letter isof no avail. I can not see you driftingon to ruin without longing to save you.You have been cleverly caught in thenet the scheming heiress has set foryou. It is certainly evident she loves youwith a love which is certainly a perilousone. There is not much safety in thefierce, passionate love of a desperate,jealous woman. You will pardon me forbelieving at one time your heart waselsewhere. You will wonder why I referto that; it will surprise you to learn, thatone subject forms the basis of thisletter. I refer to little Daisy Brooks.

"You remember the night you saw littleDaisy home, burning with indignationat the cut direct which Pluma hadsubjected the pretty little fairy to Isimply recall that fact, as upon thatevent hangs the terrible sequel which Ifree my conscience by unfolding. Youhad scarcely left the Hall ere Plumacalled me to her side.

"'Do not leave me, Lester,' she said; 'Iwant to see you; remain until after allthe guests have left.'

"I did so. You have read the lines:

"'Heaven has no rage like love to hatredturned, Nor hell a fury like a woman

scorned'

"They were too truly exemplified in thecase of Pluma Hurlhurst when shefound you preferred little golden-haired Daisy Brooks to her ownpeerless self. 'What shall I do, Lester,'she cried, 'to strike his heart What shallI do to humble his mighty pride as hehas humbled mine ' Heaven knows, oldboy, I am ashamed to admit theshameful truth. I rather enjoyed thesituation of affairs. 'My love is turnedto hate!' she cried, vehemently. 'I muststrike him through his love for thatlittle pink-and-white baby-facedcreature he is so madly infatuated with.Remove her from his path, Lester,' she

cried, 'and I shall make it worth yourwhile. You asked me once if I wouldmarry you. I answer now: remove thatgirl from his path, by fair means orfoul, and I give you my hand as thereward, I, the heiress of WhitestoneHall.'

"She knew the temptation was dazzling.For long hours we talked the matterover. She was to furnish money to sendthe girl to school, from which I wasshortly to abduct her. She little caredwhat happened the little fair-hairedcreature. Before I had time to carry outthe design fate drifted her into myhands. I rescued her, at the risk of myown life, from a watery grave. I gave

out she was my wife, that the affairmight reach your ears, and you wouldbelieve the child willfully eloped withme. I swear to you no impure thoughtever crossed that child's brain. I gaveher a very satisfactory explanation as towhy I had started so false a report. Inher innocence it seemed plausible shedid 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 inits true light. Heaven knows she was aspure as a spotless lily; but appearanceswere sadly against the child, simply

because she had not contradicted thereport that I had circulated that she wasmy wife. Her lips were dumb at themere suspicion you hurled against her,and she could not plead with you forvery horror and amazement.

"When you left her she was strickenwith a fever that was said to have costher her life. She disappeared from sight,and it was said she had thrown herselfinto the pit.

"I give you this last and final statementin all truth. I was haunted day andnight by her sad, pitiful face; it almostdrove me mad with remorse, and toease my mind I had the shaft searched a

week ago, and learned the startling factit revealed no trace of her ever havingbeen there.

"The shaft does not contain theremains of Daisy Brooks, and Isolemnly affirm (although I have noclew to substantiate the belief) thatDaisy Brooks is not dead, but living,and Pluma Hurlhurst's soul is not dyedwith the blood which she would nothave hesitated to shed to remove aninnocent rival from her path. I do nothold myself guiltless, still the plannerof a crime is far more guilty than thetool who does the work in hope ofreward.

"The heiress of Whitestone Hall hasplayed me false, take to your heart yourfair, blushing bride, but remember hersis a perilous love."

* * * * *

The letter contained much more,explaining each incident in detail, butRex had caught at one hope, as adrowning man catches at a straw.

"Merciful Heaven!" he cried, his heartbeating loud and fast. "Was it not acruel jest to frighten him on hiswedding-eve Daisy alive! Oh, justHeaven, if it could only be true!" Hedrew his breath, with a long, quivering

sigh, at the bare possibility. "Little Daisywas as pure in thought, word and deedas an angel. God pity me!" he cried."Have patience with me for myharshness toward my little love. I didnot give my little love even the chanceof explaining the situation," hegroaned. Then his thoughts went backto Pluma.

He could not doubt the truth of thestatement Stanwick offered, and theabsolute proofs of its sincerity. Hecould not curse her for her horribledeceit, because his mother had lovedher so, and it was done through herblinding, passionate love for him; andhe buried his face in his hands, and

wept bitterly. It was all clear as noondayto him now why Daisy had not kept thetryst under the magnolia-tree, and thecottage was empty. She must certainlyhave attempted to make her escapefrom the school in which they placedher to come back to his arms.

"Oh, dupe that I have been!" hemoaned. "Oh, my sweet little innocentdarling!" he cried. "I dare not hopeHeaven has spared you to me!"

Now he understood why he had feltsuch a terrible aversion to Pluma allalong. She had separated him from hisbeautiful, golden-haired child-bride.

His eyes rested on the certificate whichbore Pluma's name, also his own. Hetore it into a thousand shreds.

"It is all over between us now," hecried. "Even if Daisy were dead, Icould never take the viper to my bosomthat has dealt me such a death-stingingblow. If living, I shall search the worldover till I find her; if dead, I shallconsecrate my life to the memory ofmy darling, my pure, little, injured onlylove."

He heard a low rap at the door. Theservant never forgot the young man'shaggard, hopeless face as he deliveredBasil Hurlhurst's message.

"Ah, it is better so," cried Rex tohimself, vehemently, as the man silentlyand wonderingly closed the door. "Iwill go to him at once, and tell him Ishall never marry his daughter. Heavenhelp me! I will tell him all."

Hastily catching up the letter, Rexwalked, with a firm, quick tread, towardthe study, in which the strangest tragedywhich was ever enacted was about totranspire.

* * * * *

"I am your mother, Pluma," repeatedthe woman, slowly. "Look into my face,

and you will see every lineament ofyour own mirrored there. But for meyou would never have enjoyed theluxuries of Whitestone Hall, and this isthe way you repay me! Is there nonatural instinct in your heart that tellsyou you are standing in your mother'spresence "

"Every instinct in my heart tells me youare a vile impostor, woman. I wonderthat you dare intimate such a thing. Youare certainly an escaped lunatic. Mymother was lost at sea long years ago."

"So every one believed. But my verypresence here is proof positive suchwas not the case."

Pluma tried to speak, but no soundissued from her white lips. The verytone of the woman's voice carriedpositive conviction with it. A dimrealization was stealing over her thatthis woman's face, and the peculiar toneof her voice, were strangely mixed upwith her childhood dreams; and, try asshe would to scoff at the idea, itseemed to be gaining strength withevery moment.

"You do not believe me, I see," pursuedthe woman, calmly. "There is nothingbut the stern facts that will satisfy you.You shall have them. They are soontold: Years ago, when I was young and

fair as you are now, I lived at the homeof a quiet, well-to-do spinster, TaizaBurt. She had a nephew, an honest,well-to-do young fellow, whoworshiped me, much to the chagrin ofhis aunt; and out of pique one day Imarried him. I did not love the honest-hearted fellow, and I lived with him buta few brief months. I hated him yes,hated him, for I had seen anotheryoung, gay and handsome whom Imight have won had it not been for thechains which bound me. He was ahandsome, debonair college fellow, asrich as he was handsome. This wasBasil Hurlhurst, the planter's only sonand heir. Our meeting was romantic. Ihad driven over to the village in which

the college was situated, on an errandfor Taiza. Basil met me driving throughthe park. He was young, reckless andimpulsive. He loved me, and theknowledge of his wealth dazzled me. Idid not tell him I was a wife, and therecommenced my first sin. My extremeyouth and ignorance of the world mustplead for me my husband or the worldwould never know of it. I listened tohis pleading, and married him that is,we went through the ceremony. He hadperfect faith in its sincerity. I aloneknew the guilty truth. Yet enormous aswas my crime, I had but a dimrealization of it.

"For one brief week I was dazzled with

the wealth and jewels he lavished uponme; but my conscience would not letme rest when I thought of my honest-hearted husband, from whom I hadfled and whom I had so cruellydeceived.

"My love for Basil was short lived; Iwas too reckless to care much for anyone. My conscience bade me fly fromhim. I gathered up what money andjewels I could, and fled. A few monthsafter you were born; and I swear toyou, by the proofs I can bring you,beyond all shadow of a doubt, youwere my lawful husband's child, notBasil's.

"Soon after this event a daring thoughtcame to me. I could present you, erelong, with myself, at Whitestone Hall.Basil Hurlhurst would never know thedeception practiced upon him; and you,the child of humble parentage, shouldenjoy and inherit his vast wealth. Mybold plan was successful. We had astormy interview, and it never occurredto him there could be the leastdeception that I was not his lawfulwife, or you his child.

"I found Basil had learned to despiseeven more fiercely than he had everloved me.

"He took us abroad, refusing to speak

or look upon my face, even though heescorted us. In a fit of desperation Ithrew myself into the sea, but I wasrescued by another vessel. A stronginclination seized me to again visitWhitestone Hall and see whatdisposition he had made of you. Yearshad passed; you were then a child offive years.

"One terrible stormy night as bad anight as this one I made my way to theHall. It was brilliantly lighted up, just asit is to-night.

"I saw the gate was locked; andthrough the flashes of lightning I saw alittle girl sobbing wildly, flung face

downward in the grass, heedless of thestorm.

"I knew you, and called you to me. Iquestioned you as to why the housewas lighted, and learned the truth. BasilHurlhurst had remarried; he had beenabroad with his wife, and to-night hewas bringing home his young wife.

"My rage knew no bounds. Icommanded you to bring me the keyof the gate. You obeyed. That night alittle golden-haired child was born atWhitestone Hall, and I knew it wouldlive to divide the honors and wealth ofWhitestone Hall with you my child.

"The thought maddened me. I stole thechild from its mother's arms, and fled. Iexpected to see the papers full of theterrible deed, or to hear you hadbetrayed me, a stranger, wanting the keyof the gate."

"My surprise knew no bounds when Ifound it was given out the child haddied, and was buried with its youngmother. I never understood why BasilHurlhurst did not attempt to recoverhis child.

"I took the child far from here, placingit in a basket on the river brink, with anote pinned to it saying that I, themother, had sinned and had sought a

watery grave beneath the waves. Iscreened myself, and watched to seewhat would become of the child, as Isaw a man's form approaching in thedistance.

"I fairly caught my breath as he drewnear. I saw it was my own husband,whom I had so cruelly deserted yearsago your father, Pluma, who never evenknew or dreamed of your existence.

"Carefully he lifted the basket and thesleeping babe. How he came in thatlocality I do not know. I found, bysome strange freak of fate, he hadtaken the child home to his aunt Taiza,and there the little one remained until

the spinster died.

"Again, a few years later, I determinedto visit Whitestone Hall, when astartling and unexpected surprisepresented itself. Since then I havebelieved in fate. All unconscious of thestrange manner in which these twomen's lives had crossed each other, Ifound Basil Hurlhurst had engaged myown husband, and your father, JohnBrooks, for his overseer."

Pluma gave a terrible cry, but thewoman did not heed her.

"I dared not betray my identity then,but fled quickly from Whitestone Hall;

for I knew, if all came to light, it wouldbe proved without a doubt you werenot the heiress of Whitestone Hall.

"I saw a young girl, blue-eyed andgolden-haired, singing like a lark in thefields. One glance at her face, and Iknew she was Basil Hurlhurst's stolenchild fate had brought directly to herfather's home. I questioned her, and sheanswered she had lived with Taiza Burt,but her name was Daisy Brooks."

"It is a lie a base, ingenious lie!"shrieked Pluma. "Daisy Brooks theheiress of Whitestone Hall! Even if itwere true," she cried, exultingly, "shewill never reign here, the mistress of

Whitestone Hall. She is dead."

"Not exactly!" cried a ringing voicefrom the rear; and before the twowomen could comprehend thesituation, the detective sprung throughthe silken curtains, placing his backfirmly against the door. "You have laida deep scheme, with a cruel vengeance;but your own weapons are turnedagainst you. Bring your daughterforward, Mr. Hurlhurst. Your presenceis also needed, Mr. Brooks," he called.

CHAPTER XL.

Not a muscle of Pluma Hurlhurst'sface quivered, but the woman uttered alow cry, shrinking close to her side.

"Save me, Pluma!" she gasped. "I did itfor your sake!"

Basil Hurlhurst slowly put back thecurtain, and stepped into the room,clasping his long-lost daughter to hisbreast. Daisy's arms were clinginground his neck, and her golden headrested on his shoulder. She wassobbing hysterically, John Brooks,deeply affected, following after.

Like a stag at bay, the woman's courageseemed to return to her, as she stood

face to face after all those years with thehusband whom she had so cruellydeceived and the proud-faced man whostood beside him whose life she hadblighted with the keenest and mostcruel blow of all.

Basil Hurlhurst was the first to breakthe ominous silence.

"It is unnecessary to tell you we haveheard all," he said, slowly. "I shall notseek redress for your double crime.Leave this locality at once, or I mayrepent the leniency of my decision. Ihold you guiltless, Pluma," he added,gently. "You are not my child, yet I havenot been wanting in kindness toward

you. I shall make every provision foryour future comfort with your father,"he said, indicating John Brooks, whostood pale and trembling at his side.

"Pluma, my child," cried John Brooks,brokenly, extending his arms.

But the scornful laugh that fell fromher lips froze the blood in his veins.

"Your child!" she shrieked, mockingly;"do not dare call me that again. Whatcare I for your cotton fields, or forWhitestone Hall " she cried, proudly,drawing herself up to her full height."You have always hated me, BasilHurlhurst," she cried, turning haughtily

toward him. "This is your triumph!Within the next hour I shall be RexLyon's wife."

She repeated the words with a clear,ringing laugh, her flaming eyes fairlyscorching poor little Daisy's pale,frightened face.

"Do you hear me, Daisy Brooks!" shescreamed. "You loved Rex Lyon, and Ihave won him from you. You canqueen it over Whitestone Hall, but Ishall not care. I shall be queen of Rex'sheart and home! Mine is a gloriousrevenge!"

She stopped short for want of breath,

and Basil Hurlhurst interrupted her.

"I have to inform you you are quitemistaken there," he replied, calmly. "Mr.Rexford Lyon will not marry you to-night, for he is already married to mylittle daughter Daisy." He produced thecertificate as he spoke, laying it on thetable. "Rex thought her dead," hecontinued, simply. "I have sent for himto break the startling news of Daisy'spresence, and I expect him here everymoment."

"Pluma," cried Daisy, unclasping herarms from her father's neck, and swiftlycrossing over to where her rival stood,beautifully, proudly defiant, "forgive me

for the pain I have caused youunknowingly. I did not dream I was anan heiress or that Mr. Hurlhurst was myfather. I don't want you to go away,Pluma, from the luxury that has beenyours; stay and be my sister share myhome."

"My little tender-hearted angel!" criedBasil Hurlhurst, moved to tears.

John Brooks hid his face in his hands.

For a single instant the eyes of thesetwo girls met whose lives had crossedeach other so strangely Daisy's blue eyessoft, tender and appealing, Pluma'shard, flashing, bitter and scornful.

She drew herself up to her full height.

"Remain in your house " she cried,haughtily, trembling with rage. "Youmistake me, girl: do you think I couldsee you enjoying the home that I havebelieved to be mine see the man I lovebetter than life itself lavish caressesupon you kiss your lips and bear itcalmly Live the life of a pauper when Ihave been led to believe I was anheiress! Better had I never knownwealth than be cast from luxury intothe slums of poverty," she wailed out,sharply. "I shall not touch a dollar ofyour money, Basil Hurlhurst. I despiseyou too much. I have lived with the

trappings of wealth around me thepetted child of luxury all in vain all invain."

Basil Hurlhurst was struck with theterrible grandeur of the picture shemade, standing there in hermagnificent, scornful pride a wealth ofjewels flashing on her throat and breastand twined in the long, sweeping hairthat had become loosened and swept ina dark, shining mass to her slenderwaist, her flashing eyes far outshiningthe jewels upon which the softenedgas-light streamed. Not one gleam ofremorse softened her stony face in itscruel, wicked beauty. Her jeweled handsuddenly crept to the pocket of her

dress where she had placed the vial.

"Open that door!" she commanded.

The key fell from her mother'snerveless grasp. The detective quietlypicked it up, placed it in the lock, andopened the door. And just at thatinstant, Rex Lyon, with the letter in hishand, reached it.

Pluma saw him first.

"Rex!" she cried, in a low, hoarse voice,staggering toward him; but he recoiledfrom her, and she saw Stanwick's letterin his hands; and she knew in aninstant all her treachery was revealed;

and without another word pale as deathbut with head proudly erect, she sweptwith the dignity of a princess from thescene of her bitter defeat, closelyfollowed by her cowering mother.

Rex did not seek to detain her; his eyeshad suddenly fallen upon the golden-haired little figure kneeling by BasilHurlhurst's chair.

He reached her side at a single bound.

"Oh, Daisy, my darling, my darling!" hecried, snatching her in his arms, andstraining her to his breast, as hemurmured passionate, endearing wordsover her.

Suddenly he turned to Mr. Hurlhurst.

"I must explain "

"That is quite unnecessary, Rex, myboy," said Mr. Tudor, stepping forwardwith tears in his eyes; "Mr. Hurlhurstknows all."

It never occurred to handsome,impulsive Rex to question what Daisywas doing there. He only knew Heavenhad restored him his beautiful, idolizedchild-bride.

"You will forgive my harshness, won'tyou, love " he pleaded. "I will devote

my whole life to blot out the past. Canyou learn to love me, sweetheart, andforget the cloud that drifted between us"

A rosy flush suffused the beautifulflower-like face, as Daisy shyly lifted herradiantly love-lighted blue eyes to hisface with a coy glance that fairly tookhis breath away for rapturous ecstasy.

Daisy's golden head nestled closer onhis breast, and two little soft, whitearms, whose touch thrilled him throughand through, stole round his neck thatwas all the answer she made him.

John Brooks had quietly withdrawn

from the room; and while BasilHurlhurst with a proudly glowing facewent down among the waiting andexpectant guests to unfold to them themarvelous story, and explain why themarriage could not take place, thedetective briefly acquainted Rex withthe wonderful story.

"I sought and won you when you weresimple little Daisy Brooks, and nowthat you are a wealthy heiress in yourown right, you must not love me less."

Daisy glanced up into her handsomeyoung husband's face as she whispered,softly:

"Nothing can ever change my love, Rex,unless it is to love you more and more."

And for answer Rex clasped the littlefairy still closer in his arms, kissing therosy mouth over and over again, as helaughingly replied he was morefortunate than most fellows, beinglover and husband all in one.

The announcement created an intensefuror among the fluttering maidensdown in the spacious parlors. Nobodyregretted Pluma's downfall, althoughBasil Hurlhurst carefully kept that partof the narrative back.

"Oh, it is just like a romance," cried Eve

Glenn, rapturously; "but still we mustnot be disappointed, girls; we musthave a wedding all the same. Rex andDaisy must be married over again."

Every one was on the tiptoe ofexpectancy to see the beautiful littleheroine of a double romance.

Eve Glenn, followed by Birdie, foundher out at once in the study.

"Oh, you darling!" cried Eve, laughingand crying in one breath, as she huggedand kissed Daisy rapturously; "and justto think you were married all the time,and to Rex, too; above all other fellowsin the world, he was just the one I had

picked out for you."

Rex was loath to let Daisy leave himeven for a moment. Eve was firm.

"I shall take her to my room andconvert her in no time at all into averitable Cinderella."

"She is the pretty young girl that carriedme from the stone wall, and I haveloved her so much ever since, even if Icouldn't remember her name," criedBirdie, clapping her hands in thegreatest glee.

In the din of the excitement, PlumaHurlhurst shook the dust of

Whitestone Hall forever from her feet,muttering maledictions at the happyoccupants. She had taken good care tosecure all the valuables that she couldlay her hands on, which were quite afortune in themselves, securing herfrom want for life. She was never heardfrom more.

* * * * *

Eve Glenn took Daisy to her ownroom, and there the wonderfultransformation began. She dressedDaisy in her own white satin dress, andtwined deep crimson passion-roses inthe golden curls, clapping her hands atDaisy's wondrous beauty kissing her,

and petting her by turns.

"There never was such a little fairy of abride!" she cried, exultantly leadingDaisy to the mirror. "True, you haven'tany diamonds, and I haven't any to loanyou; but who would miss such trifles,gazing at such a bewitching, blushingface and eyes bright as stars Oh, won'tevery one envy Rex, though!"

"Please don't, Eve," cried Daisy. "I'm sohappy, and you are trying to make mevain."

A few moments later there was a greathush in the vast parlors below, as Daisyentered the room, leaning tremblingly

on Rex's arm, who looked as happy as aking, and Basil Hurlhurst, looking fullyten years younger than was his wont,walking proudly beside his long-lostdaughter.

The storm had died away, and themoon broke through the dark clouds,lighting the earth with a silveryradiance, as Rex and Daisy took theirplaces before the altar, where theceremony which made them man andwife was for the second timeperformed.

Heaven's light never fell on two suchsupremely happy mortals as were Rexand his bonny blushing bride.

Outside of Whitestone Hall a motleythrong was gathering with the rapidityof lightning the story had gone fromlip to lip the wonderful story of thelong-lost heiress and the doubleromance.

Cheer after cheer rent the air, andtelegraph wires were busy with thestartling revelations.

The throng around the Hall pressedforward to catch a glimpse of the prettylittle bride. Young girls laughed andcried for very joy. Mothers, fathers, andsweethearts fervently cried: "God blessher!"

All night long the bells rang from thechurch belfries, bonfires were lightedon all the surrounding hills. A telegramwas sent to a Baltimore marble firmcountermanding a certain order.

All night long the young people dancedto the chime of merry music, and allnight long the joy-bells pealed from theturrets of Whitestone Hall, and theyseemed to echo the chorus of thepeople. "God bless sweet little DaisyLyon, the long-lost heiress ofWhitestone Hall!"

THE END

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THE END