CHAPTER VIII.
In one of the private offices of Messrs. Tudor, Peck & Co., the shrewdBaltimore detectives, stood Rex, waiting patiently until the seniormember of the firm should be at leisure.
"Now, my dear sir, I will attend you with pleasure," said Mr. Tudor,sealing and dispatching the note he had just finished, and motioningRex to a seat.
"I shall be pleased if you will permit me to light a cigar," said Rex,taking the seat indicated.
"Certainly, certainly; smoke, if you feel so inclined, by all means,"replied the detective, watching with a puzzled twinkle in his eye thefair, boyish face of his visitor. "No, thank you," he said, as Rextendered him an Havana; "I never smoke during business hours."
"I wish to engage your services to find out the whereaboutsof--of--of--my wife," said Rex, hesitatingly. "She has leftme--suddenly--she fled--on the very night of our marriage!"
It hurt Rex's pride cruelly to make this admission, and a painfulflush crept up into the dark rings of hair lying on his whiteforehead.
Mr. Tudor was decidedly amazed. He could not realize how any saneyoung woman could leave so handsome a young fellow as the one beforehim. In most cases the shoe was on the other foot; but he was toothoroughly master of his business to express surprise in his face. Hemerely said:
"Go on, sir; go on!"
And Rex did go on, never sparing himself in describing how he urgedDaisy to marry him on the night of the fete, and of their parting, andthe solemn promise to meet on the morrow, and of his wild grief--morebitter than death--when he had found the cottage empty.
"It reads like the page of a romance," said Rex, with a dreary smile,leaning his head on his white hand. "But I must find her!" he cried,with energy. "I shall search the world over for her. If it takes everycent of my fortune, I shall find Daisy!"
Rex looked out of the window at the soft, fleecy clouds overhead,little dreaming Daisy was watching those self-same clouds, scarcely astone's throw from the very spot where he sat, and at that moment hewas nearer Daisy than he would be for perhaps years again, for thestrong hand of Fate was slowly but surely drifting them asunder.
For some moments neither spoke.
"Perhaps," said Mr. Tudor, breaking the silence, "there was a previouslover in the case?"
"I am sure there was not!" said Rex, eagerly.
Still the idea was new to him. He adored Daisy with a mad, idolatrousadoration, almost amounting to worship, and a love so intense issusceptible to the poisonous breath of jealousy, and jealousy ran inRex's veins. He could not endure the thought of Daisy's--hisDaisy's--eyes brightening or her cheek flushing at the approach of arival--that fair, flower-like face, sweet and innocent as achild's--Daisy, whom he so madly loved.
"Well," said Mr. Tudor, as Rex arose to depart, "I will do all I canfor you. Leave your address, please, in case I should wish tocommunicate with you."
"I think I shall go back to Allendale, remaining there at least amonth or so. I have a strong conviction Daisy might come back, or atleast write to me there."
Mr. Tudor jotted down the address, feeling actually sorry for thehandsome young husband clinging to such a frail straw of hope. In hisown mind, long before Rex had concluded his story, he had settled hisopinion--that from some cause the young wife had fled from him withsome rival, bitterly repenting her mad, hasty marriage.
"I have great faith in your acknowledged ability," said Rex, graspingMr. Tudor's outstretched hand. "I shall rest my hopes upon yourfinding Daisy. I can not, will not, believe she is false. I would assoon think of the light of heaven playing me false as my sweet littlelove!"
* * * * *
The dark mantle of night had folded its dusky wings over the inmatesof the seminary. All the lights were out in the young ladies'rooms--as the nine-o'clock call, "All lights out!" had been calledsome ten minutes before--all the lights save one, flickering, dim, anduncertain, from Daisy's window.
"Oh, dear!" cried Daisy, laying her pink cheek down on the letter shewas writing to Rex, "I feel as though I could do something _very_desperate to get away from here--and--and--back to Rex. Poor fellow!"she sighed, "I wonder what he thought, as the hours rolled by and Idid not come? Of course he went over to the cottage," she mused, "andSeptima must have told him where I had gone. Rex will surely come forme to-morrow," she told herself, with a sweet, shy blush.
She read and reread the letter her trembling little hands had pennedwith many a heart-flutter. It was a shy, sweet little letter,beginning with "Dear Mr. Rex," and ending with, "Yours sincerely,Daisy." It was just such a dear, timid letter as many a pure,fresh-hearted loving young girl would write, brimful of the love whichfilled her guileless heart for her handsome, debonair Rex--with manyallusions to the secret between them which weighed so heavily on herheart, sealing her lips for his dear sake.
After sealing and directing her precious letter, and placing it in theletter-bag which hung at the lower end of the corridor, Daisy hurriedback to her own apartment and crept softly into her little white bed,beside Sara, and was soon fast asleep, dreaming of Rex and a dark,haughty, scornful face falling between them and the sunshine--thecold, mocking face of Pluma Hurlhurst.
Mme. Whitney, as was her custom, always looked over the out-goingmail early in the morning, sealing the letters of which she approved,and returning, with a severe reprimand, those which did not come up tothe standard of her ideas.
"What is this?" she cried, in amazement, turning the letter Daisy hadwritten in her hand. "Why, I declare, it is actually sealed!" Withoutthe least compunction she broke the seal, grimly scanning its contentsfrom beginning to end. If there was anything under the sun the madameabominated it was love-letters.
It was an established fact that no tender _billets-doux_ found theirway from the academy; the argus-eyed madame was too watchful forthat.
With a lowering brow, she gave the bell-rope a hasty pull.
"Jenkins," she said to the servant answering her summons, "send MissBrooks to me here at once!"
"Poor little thing!" cried the sympathetic Jenkins to herself. "Iwonder what in the world is amiss now? There's fire in the madame'seye. I hope she don't intend to scold poor little Daisy Brooks."Jenkins had taken a violent fancy to the sweet-faced, golden-haired,timid young stranger.
"It must be something terrible, I'm sure!" cried Sara, when she heardthe madame had sent for Daisy; while poor Daisy's hand trembledso--she could scarcely tell why--that she could hardly bind up thegolden curls that fell down to her waist in a wavy, shining sheen.
Daisy never once dreamed her letter was the cause of her unexpectedsummons, until she entered Mme. Whitney's presence and saw itopened--yes, opened--her own sacred, loving letter to Rex--in herhand.
Daisy was impulsive, and her first thought was to grasp her preciousletter and flee to her own room. How dared the madame open theprecious letter she had intended only for Rex's eyes!
"Miss Brooks," began madame, impressively, "I suppose I am right inbelieving this epistle belongs to you?"
A great lump rose in Daisy's throat.
"Yes, madame," answered Daisy, raising her dark-blue eyes pleadinglyto the stern face before her.
"And may I ask by what right you dared violate the rules andregulations of this establishment by sending a sealed letter to--aman? Your guardian strictly informed me you had no correspondentswhatever, and I find this is a--I blush to confess it--actually alove-letter. What have you to say in reference to your folly, MissBrooks?"
"I'm sure I don't know," sobbed Daisy.
"You don't know?" repeated madame, scornfully. "Not a very satisfactoryexplanation. Well, Miss Brooks, I have fully determined what steps Ishall take in the matter. I shall read this letter this morning beforethe whole school; it will afford me an excellent opportunity to pointout the horrible depths to which young girls are plunged by allowingtheir minds to wander from their books to such thoughts as are hereexpressed. What do you mean by this secret to which you allude sooften?" she
asked, suddenly.
"Please do not ask me, madame," sobbed Daisy; "I can not tellyou--indeed I can not. I dare not!"
An alarming thought occurred to madame.
"Speak, girl!" she cried, hoarsely, grasping her firmly by theshoulder. "I must know the meaning of this secret which is soappalling. You fear to reveal it! Does your guardian know of it?"
"No--o!" wailed Daisy; "I could not tell him. I must keep thesecret."
Poor little innocent Daisy! her own words had convicted her beyond allpardon in the eyes of shrewd, suspicious Mme. Whitney, who guessed, asis usually the case, wide of the mark, as to the cause of the secretDaisy dare not to reveal to her guardian or herself.
"My duty is plain in this case," said madame. "I shall read this as aterrible warning to the young ladies of this institution; then I willsend for Mr. John Brooks, your guardian, and place this letter in hishands."
"Oh, no, madame, in pity's name, no!" sobbed Daisy, wildly, kneelingimploringly at her feet, her heart beating tumultuously, and her handslocked convulsively together. "Do not, madame, I pray you; anythingbut that; he would cast me out of his heart and home, and I--I couldnot go to Rex, you see."
But madame did not see. She laughed a little hard, metallic laugh thatgrated, oh, so cruelly, on Daisy's sensitive nerves.
When one woman's suspicions are aroused against another, Heaven helpthe suspected one; there is little mercy shown her.
"Man's inhumanity to man" is nothing compared to woman's inhumanity towoman.
Mme. Whitney had discovered a capital way to score a hit in thedirection of morality.
"No," she said, laying the letter down on the table before her. "Arisefrom your knees, Miss Brooks. Your prayers are useless. I think thiswill be a life-long lesson to you."
"Oh, madame, for the love of Heaven!" cried Daisy, rocking herself toand fro, "spare me, I beseech you! Can nothing alter your purpose?"
"Well," said madame, reflectively, "I may not be quite so severe withyou if you will confess, unreservedly, the whole truth concerning thisterrible secret, and what this young man Rex is to you."
"I can not," wailed Daisy, "I can not. Oh, my heart is breaking, yet Idare not."
"Very well," said madame, rising, indicating the conversation was atan end, "I shall not press you further on the subject. I will excuseyou now, Miss Brooks. You may retire to your room."
Still Daisy rocked herself to and fro on her knees at her feet.Suddenly a daring thought occurred to her. The letter which had causedher such bitter woe lay on the table almost within her very grasp--theletter, every line of which breathed of her pure, sacred love forRex--her Rex--whom she dared not even claim. She could imagine madamecommenting upon every word and sentence, ridiculing those tenderexpressions which had been such rapturous joy to her hungry littleheart as she had penned them. And, last of all, and far the mostbitter thought, how dear old John Brooks would turn his honest eyesupon her tell-tale face, demanding to know what the secret was--thesecret which she had promised her young husband she would not reveal,come what would. If his face should grow white and stern, and thoselips, which had blessed, praised, and petted, but never scoldedher--if those lips should curse her, she would die then and there athis feet. In an instant she had resolved upon a wild, hazardous plan.Quick as a flash of lightning Daisy sprung to her feet and tore thecoveted letter from madame's detaining grasp; the door stood open, andwith the fleetness of a hunted deer she flew down the corridor, neverstopping for breath until she had gained the very water's edge.
Mme. Whitney gave a loud shriek and actually fainted, and theattendant, who hurried to the scene, caught but a glimpse of a white,terrified, beautiful face, and a cloud of flying golden hair. No onein that establishment ever gazed upon the face of Daisy Brooks again!
Daisy Brooks; Or, A Perilous Love Page 8