Daisy Brooks; Or, A Perilous Love

by Laura Jean Libbey

  CHAPTER XXIV.

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

  "Oh, dear!" cried Gertie, "how provokingly unfortunate for her to diejust now! Why couldn't she have waited until after our birthday party?Of course Rex wouldn't be expected to come now; and this whole matterwas arranged especially for him; and my beautiful lilac silk is allmade, and so bewitchingly lovely, too!"

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

  "Have Birdie here!" flashed Gertie, angrily. "I actually think youhave gone crazy!"

  "Well, there is certainly a method in my madness," remarked Bess."Aren't you quick-witted enough to understand that would be a sure wayof bringing Rex over here every day?--he would come to see hissister--and that is quite a point gained."

  "You are rather clever, Bess; I never thought of that."

  And straightway the perfumed little note was dispatched, bearingGertie's monogram and tender-worded sympathy to the handsome youngheir, who sat all alone in that darkened chamber, wondering why Heavenhad been so unkind to him.

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

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

  "It is certainly not a personal letter," said Bess, maliciouslyglancing at the superscription. "Don't you see it is addressed to'Mrs. Glenn and daughters.'"

  "In a time like that people don't think much of letters," commentedMrs. Glenn, apologetically. "Read the letter aloud, of course, mydear."

  It read:

  "DEAR LADIES,--I thank you more than I can express for your kind sympathy in my present sad bereavement. I would gladly have accepted your offer of bringing my dear little orphan sister to you, had I not received a telegram this morning from Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, West Virginia, announcing her intention of coming on at once, accompanied by Mrs. Corliss, to take charge of little Birdie.

  "Again thanking you for the courtesy and kindness shown me, I am

  "Yours very truly, "REXFORD LYON."

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Have my senses deceived me?" She said the words over and over toherself. "Did I dream it? Can it even be possible Pluma Hurlhurst iscoming here, coming to the home where I should have been? God help me.Coming to comfort Rex--my husband!"

  She could fancy the darkly beautiful face bending over him; her whitejeweled hands upon his shoulder, or, perhaps, smoothing back the bonnybrown clustering curls from his white brow.

  "My place should have been by his side," she continued.

  It hurt and pained her to hear the name of the man she loved dearerthan life mentioned with the name of Pluma Hurlhurst.

  "Oh, Rex, my love, my love!" she cried out, "I can not bear it anylonger. The sun of my life has gone down in gloom and chill. Oh, Rex,my husband, I have not the strength nor the courage to bear it. I am acoward. I can not give you up. We are living apart under the blue,smiling sky and the golden sun. Yet in the sight of the angels, I amyour wife."

  Suddenly, the solemn bells from Rex's home commenced tolling, andthrough the leafy branches of the trees she caught a glimpse of awhite face and bowed head, and of a proud, cold face bendingcaressingly over it, just as she had pictured it in her imagination.

  Dear Heaven! it was Rex and Pluma! She did not moan. She did not cryout, nor utter even a sigh. Like one turned to marble she, the poorlittle misguided child-wife, stood watching them with an intentnessverging almost into madness.

  She saw him lift his head wearily from his white hands, rise slowly,and then, side by side, both disappeared from the window.

  After that Daisy never knew how the moments passed. She remembered thetidy little waiting-maid coming to her and asking if she would pleasecome down to tea. She shook her head but no sound issued from thewhite lips, and the maid went softly away, closing the door behindher.

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

  A hand turned the knob of her door.

  "Oh, dear me," cried Gertie, "you are all in the dark. I do not seeyou. Are you here, Daisy Brooks?"

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

  "Oh, no, indeed!" cried Gertie. "I came up to ask you if you wouldplease sew a little on my ball dress to-night. I can not use it justnow; still, there is no need of putting it away half finished."

  Sew on a ball dress while her heart was breaking! Oh, how could she doit? Quietly she followed Gertie to her pretty little blue and goldboudoir, making no remonstrance. She was to sew on a ball dress whilethe heiress of Whitestone Hall was consoling her young husband in hisbitter sorrow?

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

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

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

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

  The box which held the seed-pearls dropped to the floor with a crash,and the white, glistening beads were scattered about in alldirections.

  "Why, what a careless creature you are, Daisy Brooks!" cried Gertie,in dismay. "Just see what you have done! Half of them will be lost,and what is not lost will be smashed, and I had just enough to finishthat lily on the front breadth and twine among the blossoms for myhair. What do you suppose I'm going to do now, you provoking girl? Itis actually enough to make one cry."

  "I am so sorry," sighed Daisy, piteously.

  "Sorry! Will that bring back my seed-pearls? I have half a mind tomake mamma deduct the amount from your salary."

  "You may have it all if it will only replace them," said Daisy,earnestly. "I think, though, I have gathered them all up."

  A great, round tear rolled off from her long, silky eyelashes and intothe very heart of the frosted lily over which she bent, but the lily'spetals seemed to close about it, leaving no trace of its presence.

  Bessie and Gertie openly discussed their chagrin and keen disappointment,yet admitting what a handsome couple Rex and Pluma made--he so courteousand noble, she so royal and queenly.

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

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

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

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

  "There is no one to send," said Gertie. "Jim has driven over toNatchez, and there is no one else to go."

  "Perhaps Daisy will go for you," suggested Bess.

  There was no need of being jealous _now_ of Daisy's beauty in thatdirection. Gertie gladly availed herself of the suggestion.

  "Daisy," she said, turning abruptly to the quivering little figure,whose face drooped over the lilac silk, "never mind finishing thatdress to-night. I wish you to take a note over to the large gray stonehouse yonder, and be sure to deliver it to Mr. Rex Lyon himself."