Daisy Brooks; Or, A Perilous Love

by Laura Jean Libbey

  CHAPTER XXXIV.

  The sunny summer days came and went, lengthening themselves into longweeks before Daisy Brooks opened her eyes to consciousness. No clewcould be found as to who the beautiful young stranger was.

  Mr. Tudor had proposed sending her to the hospital--but to thisproposition his wife would not listen.

  "No, indeed, Harvey," she exclaimed, twisting the soft, golden curlsover her white fingers, "she shall stay here where I can watch overher myself, poor little dear."

  "You amaze me, my dear," expostulated her husband, mildly. "You cannot tell who you may be harboring."

  "Now, Harvey," exclaimed the little woman, bending over the beautiful,still, white face resting against the crimson satin pillow, "don'tinsinuate there could be anything wrong with this poor child. Mywoman's judgment tells me she is as pure as those lilies in yonderfountain's bed."

  "If you had seen as much of the world as I have, my dear, you wouldtake little stock in the innocence of beautiful women; very homelywomen are rarely dangerous."

  "There is no use in arguing the point, Harvey. I have determined sheshall not be sent to the hospital, and she shall stay here."

  Mrs. Tudor carried the point, as she always did in every argument.

  "Well, my dear, if any ill consequences arise from this piece of follyof yours, remember, I shirk all responsibility."

  "'When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't, And when she won't--she won't, and there's an end on't,'"

  he quoted, dryly. "I sincerely hope you will not rue it."

  "Now, you would be surprised, my dear, to find out at some future timeyou had been entertaining an angel unawares."

  "I should be _extremely_ surprised; you have put it mildly, mydear--nay, I may say dumbfounded--to find an angel dwelling down herebelow among us sinners. My experience has led me to believe the bestplace for angels is up above where they belong. I am glad that _you_have such pretty little notions, though, my dear. It is not best forwomen to know too much of the ways of the world."

  "Harvey, you shock me!" cried the little lady, holding up her hands inhorror at her liege lord's remarks.

  Still she had her own way in the matter, and Daisy stayed.

  Every day the detective grew more mystified as to who in the world shecould be. One thing was certain, she had seen some great trouble whichbid fair to dethrone her reason.

  At times she would clasp his hands, calling him Uncle John, begginghim piteously to tell her how she could die. And she talkedincoherently, too, of a dark, handsome woman's face, that had comebetween her and some lost treasure.

  Then a grave look would come into the detective's face. He had seenmany such cases, and they always ended badly, he said to himself. Shehad such an innocent face, so fair, so childish, he could not make uphis mind whether she was sinned against or had been guilty of a hiddensin herself.

  Love must have something to do with it, he thought, grimly. Wheneverhe saw such a hopeless, despairing look on a young and beautiful facehe always set it down as a love case in his own mind, and in ninecases out of ten he was right.

  "Ah! it is the old, old story," he muttered. "A pretty, romanticschool-girl, and some handsome, reckless lover," and something verymuch like an imprecation broke from his lips, thorough man of theworld though he was, as he ruminated on the wickedness of men.

  Two days before the marriage of Rex and Pluma was to be solemnized,poor little Daisy awoke to consciousness, her blue eyes resting on thejoyous face of Mrs. Tudor, who bent over her with bated breath, gazinginto the upraised eyes, turned so wonderingly upon her.

  "You are to keep perfectly quiet, my dear," said Mrs. Tudor,pleasantly, laying her hands on Daisy's lips as she attempted tospeak. "You must not try to talk or to think; turn your face from thelight, and go quietly to sleep for a bit, then you shall say what youplease."

  Daisy wondered who the lady was, as she obeyed her like an obedient,tired child--the voice seemed so motherly, so kind, and so soothing,as she lay there, trying to realize how she came there. Slowly all hersenses struggled into life, her memory came back, her mind and braingrew clear. Then she remembered walking into the cool, shady garden,and the dizziness which seemed to fall over her so suddenly. "I musthave fainted last night," she thought. She also remembered Plumabending so caressingly over her young husband in the moonlight, andthat the sight had almost driven her mad, and, despite her efforts tosuppress her emotion, she began to sob aloud.

  Mrs. Tudor hurried quickly to the bedside. She saw at once the icefrom the frozen fountain of memory had melted.

  "If you have any great sorrow on your mind, my dear, and wish to seeMr. Tudor, I will call him at once. He is in the parlor."

  "Please don't," sobbed Daisy. "I don't want to see anybody. I must gohome to Uncle John at once. Have I been here all night?"

  "Why, bless your dear little heart, you have been here many a nightand many a week. We thought at one time you would surely die."

  "I wish I had," moaned Daisy. In the bitterness of her sorely woundedheart she said to herself that Providence had done everything for herwithout taking her life.

  "We thought," pursued Mrs. Tudor, gently, "that perhaps you desired tosee my husband--he is a detective--upon some matter. You fainted whenyou were just within the gate."

  "Was it your garden?" asked Daisy, surprisedly. "I thought it was apark!"

  "Then you were not in search of Mr. Tudor, my dear?" asked his wife,quite mystified.

  "No," replied Daisy. "I wanted to get away from every one who knew me,or every one I knew, except Uncle John."

  "I shall not question her concerning herself to-day," Mrs. Tudorthought. "I will wait a bit until she is stronger." She felt delicateabout even asking her name. "She will seek my confidence soon," shethought. "I must wait."

  Mrs. Tudor was a kind-hearted little soul. She tried every possiblemeans of diverting Daisy's attention from the absorbing sorrow whichseemed consuming her.

  She read her choice, sparkling paragraphs from the papers, commentingupon them, in a pretty, gossiping way.

  Nothing seemed to interest the pretty little creature, or bring asmile to the quivering, childish lips.

  "Ah! here is something quite racy!" she cried, drawing her chair upcloser to the bedside. "_A scandal in high life._ This is sure to beentertaining."

  Mrs. Tudor was a good little woman, but, like all women in general,she delighted in a spicy scandal.

  A handsome stranger had married a beautiful heiress. For a time allwent merry as a marriage-bell. Suddenly a second wife appeared on thescene, of which no one previously knew the existence. The husband hadsincerely believed himself separated by law from wife number one, butthrough some technicality of the law, the separation was pronouncedillegal, and the beautiful heiress bitterly realized to her cost thatshe was no wife.

  "It must be a terrible calamity to be placed in such a predicament,"cried Mrs. Tudor, energetically. "I blame the husband for not findingout beyond a doubt that he was free from his first wife."

  A sudden thought seemed to come to Daisy, so startling it almost tookher breath away.

  "Supposing a husband left his wife, and afterward thought her dead,even though she were not, and he should marry again, would it not belegal? Supposing the poor, deserted wife knew of it, but allowed himto marry that some one else, because she believed he was unhappy withherself, would it not be legal?" she repeated in an intense voice,striving to appear calm.

  "I can scarcely understand the question, my dear. I should certainlysay, if the first wife knew her husband was about to remarry, and sheknew she was not separated from him by law or death, she was certainlya criminal in allowing the ceremony to proceed. Why, did you ever hearof such a peculiar case, my dear?"

  "No," replied Daisy, flushing crimson. "I was thinking of EnochArden."

  "Why, there is scarcely a feature in Enoch Arden's case resembling theone you have just cited. You must have made a mistake?"

  "Yes; you are right. I hav
e made a mistake," muttered Daisy, growingdeadly pale. "I did not know. I believed it was right."

  "You believed what was right?" asked Mrs. Tudor, in amazement.

  "I believed it was right for the first wife to go out of her husband'slife if she had spoiled it, and leave him free to woo and win thebride he loved," replied Daisy, pitifully embarrassed.

  "Why, you innocent child," laughed Mrs. Tudor, "I have said he would_not_ be free as long as the law did not separate him from his firstwife, and she was alive. It is against the law of Heaven for any manto have two wives; and if the first wife remained silent and saw thesacred ceremony profaned by that silence, she broke the law ofHeaven--a sin against God beyond pardon. Did you speak?" she asked,seeing Daisy's white lips move.

  She did not know a prayer had gone up to God from that young torturedheart for guidance.

  Had she done wrong in letting Rex and the whole world believe herdead? Was it ever well to do a wrong that good should come from it?

  And the clear, innocent, simple conscience was quick to answer, "No!"

  Poor Daisy looked at the position in every possible way, and the moreshe reflected the more frightened she became.

  Poor, little, artless child-bride, she was completely bewildered. Shecould find no way out of her difficulty until the idea occurred to herthat the best person to help her would be John Brooks; and her wholeheart and soul fastened eagerly on this.

  She could not realize she had lain ill so long. Oh, Heaven, what mighthave happened in the meantime, if Rex should marry Pluma? She wouldnot be his wife because _she_--who was a barrier between them--lived.