CHAPTER III.
In an elegant boudoir, all crimson and gold, some hours later, satPluma Hurlhurst, reclining negligently on a satin divan, toying idlywith a volume which lay in her lap. She tossed the book aside with ayawn, turning her superb dark eyes on the little figure bending overthe rich trailing silks which were to adorn her own fair beauty on thecoming evening.
"So you think you would like to attend the lawn fete to-night, Daisy?"she asked, patronizingly.
Daisy glanced up with a startled blush,
"Oh, I should like it so much, Miss Pluma," she answered, hesitatingly,"if I only could!"
"I think I shall gratify you," said Pluma, carelessly. "You have madeyourself very valuable to me. I like the artistic manner you havetwined these roses in my hair; the effect is quite picturesque." Sheglanced satisfiedly at her own magnificent reflection in thecheval-glass opposite. Titian alone could have reproduced thoserich, marvelous colors--that perfect, queenly beauty. He would havepainted the picture, and the world would have raved about its beauty.The dark masses of raven-black hair; the proud, haughty face, withits warm southern tints; the dusky eyes, lighted with fire andpassion, and the red, curved lips. "I wish particularly to look myvery best to-night, Daisy," she said; "that is why I wish you toremain. You can arrange those sprays of white heath in my hairsuperbly. Then you shall attend the fete, Daisy. Remember, you are notexpected to take part in it; you must sit in some secluded nookwhere you will be quite unobserved."
Pluma could not help but smile at the ardent delight depicted inDaisy's face.
"I am afraid I can not stay," she said, doubtfully, glancing down indismay at the pink-and-white muslin she wore. "Every one would be sureto laugh at me who saw me. Then I would wish I had not stayed."
"Suppose I should give you one to wear--that white mull, forinstance--how would you like it? None of the guests would see you,"replied Pluma.
There was a wistful look in Daisy's eyes, as though she would fainbelieve what she heard was really true.
"Would you really?" asked Daisy, wonderingly. "You, whom people callso haughty and so proud--you would really let me wear one of yourdresses? I do not know how to tell you how much I am pleased!" shesaid, eagerly.
Pluma Hurlhurst laughed. Such rapture was new to her.
The night which drew its mantle over the smiling earth was a perfectone. Myriads of stars shone like jewels in the blue sky, and not acloud obscured the face of the clear full moon. Hurlhurst Plantationwas ablaze with colored lamps that threw out soft rainbow tints in alldirections as far as the eye could reach. The interior of WhitestoneHall was simply dazzling in its rich rose bloom, its lights, itsfountains, and rippling music from adjoining ferneries.
In an elegant apartment of the Hall Basil Hurlhurst, the recluseinvalid, lay upon his couch, trying to shut out the mirth and gayetythat floated up to him from below. As the sound of Pluma's voicesounded upon his ear he turned his face to the wall with a bittergroan. "She is so like--" he muttered, grimly. "Ah! the pleasantvoices of our youth turn into lashes which scourge us in our old age.'Like mother, like child.'"
The lawn fete was a grand success; the _elite_ of the whole countryround were gathered together to welcome the beautiful, peerlesshostess of Whitestone Hall. Pluma moved among her guests like a queen,yet in all that vast throng her eyes eagerly sought one face. "Wherewas Rex?" was the question which constantly perplexed her. After thefirst waltz he had suddenly disappeared. Only the evening beforehandsome Rex Lyon had held her jeweled hand long at parting,whispering, in his graceful, charming way, he had something to tellher on the morrow. "Why did he hold himself so strangely aloof?" Plumaasked herself, in bitter wonder. Ah! had she but known!
While Pluma, the wealthy heiress, awaited his coming so eagerly, RexLyon was standing, quite lost in thought, beside a rippling fountainin one of the most remote parts of the lawn, thinking of Daisy Brooks.He had seen a fair face--that was all--a face that embodied his dreamof loveliness, and without thinking of it found his fate, and thewhole world seemed changed for him.
Handsome, impulsive Rex Lyon, owner of several of the most extensiveand lucrative orange groves in Florida, would have bartered everydollar of his worldly possessions for love.
He had hitherto treated all notion of love in a very off-hand,cavalier fashion.
"Love is fate," he had always said. He knew Pluma loved him. Lastnight he had said to himself: The time had come when he might as wellmarry; it might as well be Pluma as any one else, seeing she cared somuch for him. Now all that was changed. "I sincerely hope she will notattach undue significance to the words I spoke last evening," hemused.
Rex did not care to return again among the throng; it was sweeter farto sit there by the murmuring fountain dreaming of Daisy Brooks, andwondering when he should see her again. A throng which did not holdthe face of Daisy Brooks had no charm for Rex.
Suddenly a soft step sounded on the grass; Rex's heart gave a suddenbound; surely it could not be--yes, it was--Daisy Brooks.
She drew back with a startled cry as her eyes suddenly encounteredthose of her hero of the morning. She would have fled precipitatelyhad he not stretched out his hand quickly to detain her.
"Daisy," cried Rex, "why do you look so frightened? Are you displeasedto see me?"
"No," she said. "I--I--do not know--"
She looked so pretty, so bewildered, so dazzled by joy, yet sopitifully uncertain, Rex was more desperately in love with her thanever.
"Your eyes speak, telling me you _are_ pleased, Daisy, even if yourlips _refuse_ to tell me so. Sit down on this rustic bench, Daisy,while I tell you how anxiously I awaited your coming--waited until theshadows of evening fell."
As he talked to her he grew more interested with every moment. Shehad no keen intellect, no graceful powers of repartee, knew little ofbooks or the great world beyond. Daisy was a simple, guileless childof nature.
Rex's vanity was gratified at the unconscious admiration which shonein her eyes and the blushes his words brought to her cheeks.
"There is my favorite waltz, Daisy," he said, as the music of theirresistible "Blue Danube" floated out to them. "Will you favor mewith a waltz?"
"Miss Pluma would be so angry," she murmured.
"Never mind her anger, Daisy. I will take all the blame on _my_shoulders. They are unusually broad, you see."
He led her half reluctant among the gay throng; gentlemen looked atone another in surprise. Who is she? they asked one of the other,gazing upon her in wonder. No one could answer. The sweet-faced littlemaiden in soft, floating white, with a face like an angel's, who woreno other ornament than her crown of golden hair, was a mystery and anovelty. In all the long years of her after life Daisy never forgotthat supremely blissful moment. It seemed to her they were floatingaway into another sphere. Rex's arms were around her, his eyes smilingdown into hers; he could feel the slight form trembling in hisembrace, and he clasped her still closer. With youth, music, andbeauty--there was nothing wanting to complete the charm of love.
Leaning gracefully against an overarching palm-tree stood a young manwatching the pair with a strange intentness; a dark, vindictive smilehovered about the corners of his mouth, hidden by his black mustache,and there was a cruel gleam in the dark, wicked eyes scanning the faceof the young girl so closely.
"Ah! why not?" he mused. "It would be a glorious revenge." He made hisway hurriedly in the direction of his young hostess, who was, asusual, surrounded by a group of admirers. A deep crimson spot burnedon either cheek, and her eyes glowed like stars, as of one underintense, suppressed excitement.
Lester Stanwick made his way to her side just as the last echo of thewaltz died away on the air, inwardly congratulating himself uponfinding Rex and Daisy directly beside him.
"Miss Pluma," said Stanwick, with a low bow, "will you kindly presentme to the little fairy on your right? I am quite desperately smittenwith her."
Several gentlemen crowded around Pluma asking the same favor.
Wi
th a smile and a bow, what could Rex do but lead Daisy gracefullyforward. Those who witnessed the scene that ensued never forgot it.For answer Pluma Hurlhurst turned coldly, haughtily toward them,drawing herself up proudly to her full height.
"There is evidently some mistake here," she said, glancing scornfullyat the slight, girlish figure leaning upon Rex Lyon's arm. "I do notrecognize this person as a guest. If I mistake not, she is one of thehirelings connected with the plantation."
If a thunderbolt had suddenly exploded beneath Rex's feet he could nothave been more thoroughly astounded.
Daisy uttered a piteous little cry and, like a tender flower cut downby a sudden, rude blast, would have fallen at his feet had he notreached out his arm to save her.
"Miss Hurlhurst," cried Rex, in a voice husky with emotion, "I holdmyself responsible for this young lady's presence here. I--"
"Ah!" interrupts Pluma, ironically; "and may I ask by what right youforce one so inferior, and certainly obnoxious, among us?"
Rex Lyon's handsome face was white with rage. "Miss Hurlhurst," hereplied, with stately dignity, "I regret, more than the mere wordsexpress, that my heedlessness has brought upon this little creature atmy side an insult so cruel, so unjust, and so bitter, in simplygranting my request for a waltz--a request very reluctantly granted.An invited guest among you she may not be; but I most emphaticallydefy her inferiority to any lady or gentleman present."
"Rex--Mr. Lyon," says Pluma, icily, "you forget yourself."
He smiled contemptuously. "I do not admit it," he said, hotly. "I havedone that which any gentleman should have done; defended from insultone of the purest and sweetest of maidens. I will do more--I willshield her, henceforth and forever, with my very life, if need be. IfI can win her, I shall make Daisy Brooks my wife."
Rex spoke rapidly--vehemently. His chivalrous soul was aroused; hescarcely heeded the impetuous words that fell from his lips. He couldnot endure the thought that innocent, trusting little Daisy shouldsuffer through any fault of his.
"Come, Daisy," he said, softly, clasping in his own strong white onesthe little fingers clinging so pitifully to his arm, "we will go awayfrom here at once--our presence longer is probably obnoxious.Farewell, Miss Hurlhurst."
"Rex," cried Pluma, involuntarily taking a step forward, "you do not,you can not mean what you say. You will not allow a creature like thatto separate us--you have forgotten, Rex. You said you had something totell me. You will not part with me so easily," she cried.
A sudden terror seized her at the thought of losing him. He was herworld. She forgot the guests gathering about her--forgot she was thewealthy, courted heiress for whose glance or smiles men sued invain--forgot her haughty pride, in the one absorbing thought that Rexwas going from her. Her wild, fiery, passionate love could bear norestraint.
"Rex," she cried, suddenly falling on her knees before him, her facewhite and stormy, her white jeweled hands clasped supplicatingly, "youmust not, you shall not leave me so; no one shall come between us.Listen--I love you, Rex. What if the whole world knows it--what willit matter, it is the truth. My love is my life. You loved me until shecame between us with her false, fair face. But for this you would haveasked me to be your wife. Send that miserable little hireling away,Rex--the gardener will take charge of her."
Pluma spoke rapidly, vehemently. No one could stay the torrent of herbitter words.
Rex was painfully distressed and annoyed. Fortunately but very few ofthe guests had observed the thrilling tableau enacted so near them.
"Pluma--Miss Hurlhurst," he said, "I am sorry you have unfortunatelythus expressed yourself, for your own sake. I beg you will say nomore. You yourself have severed this night the last link offriendship between us. I am frank with you in thus admitting it. Isympathize with you, while your words have filled me with thedeepest consternation and embarrassment, which it is useless longer toprolong."
Drawing Daisy's arm hurriedly within his own, Rex Lyon strode quicklydown the graveled path, with the full determination of never againcrossing the threshold of Whitestone Hall, or gazing upon the face ofPluma Hurlhurst.
Meanwhile Pluma had arisen from her knees with a gay, mocking laugh,turning suddenly to the startled group about her.
"Bravo! bravo! Miss Pluma," cried Lester Stanwick, stepping to herside at that opportune moment. "On the stage you would have made agrand success. We are practicing for a coming charade," explainedStanwick, laughingly; "and, judging from the expressions depicted onour friend's faces, I should say you have drawn largely upon reallife. You will be a success, Miss Pluma."
No one dreamed of doubting the assertion. A general laugh followed,and the music struck up again, and the gay mirth of the fete resumedits sway.
Long after the guests had departed Pluma sat in her boudoir, her hearttorn with pain, love, and jealousy, her brain filled with schemes ofvengeance.
"I can not take her life!" she cried; "but if I could mar herbeauty--the pink-and-white beauty of Daisy Brooks, which has won Rexfrom me--I would do it. I shall torture her for this," she cried. "Iwill win him from her though I wade through seas of blood. Hear me,Heaven," she cried, "and register my vow!"
Pluma hastily rung the bell.
"Saddle Whirlwind and Tempest at once!" she said to the servant whoanswered her summons.
"It is after midnight, Miss Pluma. I--"
There was a look in her eyes which would brook no further words.
An hour later they had reached the cottage wherein slept Daisy Brooks,heedless of the danger that awaited her.
"Wait for me here," said Pluma to the groom who accompanied her--"_Iwill not be long!_"
Daisy Brooks; Or, A Perilous Love Page 3