CHAPTER XII.
"Please go away," sobbed Daisy. "Leave me to myself, and I will getup."
"Very well," said Stanwick, involuntarily raising her little whitehands courteously to his lips; "and remember, I warn you, for your ownsake, not to dispute the assertion I have made--that you are mywife."
"Why?" asked Daisy, wistfully. "They will forgive me when I tell themhow it all came about."
"You do not know women's ways," he replied. "They would hand you overat once to the authorities; you would bring disgrace and ruin uponyour own head, and bitter shame to John Brooks's heart. I know himwell enough to believe he would never forgive you. On the other hand,when you feel well enough to depart, you can simply say you are goingaway with your husband. No one will think of detaining you; you willbe free as the wind to go where you will. It will cost you but a fewwords. Remember, there are occasions when it is necessary toprevaricate in order to prevent greater evils--this is one of them."
Daisy could not dispute this specious logic, and she suffered herselfto be persuaded against her will and better judgment. She wasdreadfully homesick, poor little soul! and to go back to Allendale, toRex, was the one wish of her heart. But would he clasp her in his armsif a shadow of disgrace blotted her fair name? She would go back tohim and kneel at his feet, and tell him why she had left Mme.Whitney's. She certainly meant to tell him of all that followed, and,with her little, warm cheek pressed close to his, ask him if she haddone right.
At that moment the door of an adjoining room opened, and Lesterobserved the three ladies standing in a row in the door-way. He knewthat three pairs of eyes were regarding him intently through as manypairs of blue glasses.
"Good-bye, my little wife," he said, raising his voice for theirbenefit; "I'm off now. I shall see you again to-morrow;" and, beforeDaisy had the least idea of his intentions, he had pressed a kiss uponher rosy lips and was gone.
The three ladies quickly advanced to the couch upon which Daisyreclined.
"We are very glad to find you are so much better this morning," theyexclaimed, all in a breath. "Your husband has been almost dementedabout you, my dear."
They wondered why the white face on the pillow turned so pink, thenfaded to a dead white, and why the tear-drops started to her beautifulblue eyes.
"I was telling my sisters," pursued one of the ladies, softly, "youwere so young to be married--hardly more than a child. How old areyou, my dear--not more than sixteen, I suppose?"
"Sixteen and a few months," answered Daisy.
"How long have you been married, my dear?" questioned another of thesisters.
A great sob rose in Daisy's throat as she remembered it was just aweek that very day since she had stood in the dim old parlor at therectory, while Rex clasped her hands, his handsome, smiling eyesgazing so lovingly down upon her, while the old minister spoke thewords that bound them for life to each other. It almost seemed toDaisy that long years had intervened, she had passed through so muchsince then.
"Just a week to-day, madame," she made answer.
"Why, you are a bride, then," they all chorused. "Ah! that accountsfor your husband's great anxiety about you. We all agreed we had neverseen a husband more devoted!"
Daisy hid her face in the pillow. She thought she would go mad uponbeing so cruelly misunderstood. Oh! if she had only dared throwherself into their arms and sob out her heartaches on their bosoms.Yes, she was a bride, but the most pitifully homesick, weary,disheartened little girl-bride that ever the sun shone on in the wide,wild world.
They assisted Daisy to arise, brushing out her long, tangled, goldencurls, declaring to one another the pretty little creature looked morelike a merry, rosy-cheeked school-girl than a little bride-wife, inher pink-and-white dotted muslin, which they had in the meantime doneup for her with their own hands.
They wondered, too, why she never asked for her husband, and shelooked almost ready to faint when they spoke of him.
"There seems to be something of a mystery here," remarked one ofthe sisters when the trio were alone. "If that child is a bride,she is certainly not a happy one. I do not like to judge afellow-creature--Heaven forbid! but I am sorely afraid all is notright with her. Twice this afternoon, entering the room quietly, Ihave found her lying face downward on the sofa, crying as if herheart would break! I am sorely puzzled!"
And the flame of suspicion once lighted was not easily extinguished inthe hearts of the curious spinsters.
"'Won't you tell me your sorrow, my dear?' I said.
"'No, no; I dare not!' she replied.
"'Will you not confide in me, Mrs. Stanwick?' I asked.
"She started up wildly, throwing her arms about my neck.
"'Won't you please call me Daisy?' she sobbed, piteously; 'justDaisy--nothing else.'
"'Certainly, my dear, if you wish it,' I replied. 'There is onequestion I would like to ask you, Daisy--you have told me your motheris dead?'
"'Yes,' she said, leaning her golden head against the window, andwatching the white clouds overhead in the blue sky--'my poor, dearmother is dead!'
"'Then will you answer me truthfully the question I am about to askyou, Daisy, remembering your mother up in heaven hears you.'
"She raised her blue eyes to mine.
"'I shall answer truthfully any question you may put to me,' she said;'if--if--it is not 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 eyesmet mine unflinchingly.
"'Yes, madame, I am, in the sight of God and man; but I am such anunhappy one. I can not tell you why. My heart is breaking. I want togo back to 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 yet to come. The little creaturedrew from her pocket a twenty-dollar bill.
"'You have been kind and good to me,' she said. I must take enough tocarry me back to Allendale. You shall have all the rest, madame.'
"'Put your money back into your pocket, Daisy,' I replied. 'Yourhusband has already paid your bill. He begged me to accept it inadvance on the night you came.'
"She gave a great start, and a flood of hot color rushed over herface.
"'I--I--did not know,' she said, faintly, 'how very good Mr. Stanwickhas been to me.'"
The three sisters looked at one another in silent wonder over the rimsof their spectacles and shook their heads ominously.
* * * * *
Dear reader, we must return at this period to Rex--poor, broken-heartedRex--whom we left in the company of Pluma Hurlhurst in the spaciousparlor of Whitestone Hall.
"Daisy Brooks is at this moment with Lester Stanwick! You must learnto forget her, Rex," she repeated, slowly.
A low cry escaped from Rex's lips, and he recoiled from her as thoughshe had struck him a heavy blow. His heart seemed fairly stifled inhis bosom, and he trembled in every limb with repressed excitement.
"Here is a letter from Madame Whitney," she continued. "Read it foryourself, Rex. You see, she says: 'Daisy fled. It has been sinceascertained she went to Elmwood, a station some sixty miles from here,where she now is, at the cottage of the Burton sisters, in companywith her lover. I shall not attempt to claim her--her retribution mustcome from another source.'"
The words seemed to stand out in letters of fire.
"Oh, my little love," he cried, "there must be some terrible mistake!My God! my God! there must be some horrible mistake--some foulconspiracy against you, my little sweetheart, my darling love!"
He rose to his feet with a deep-drawn sigh, his teeth shut close, hisheart beating with great strangling throbs of pain. Strong and braveas Rex was, this trouble was almost more than he could bear.
"Where are you going, Rex?" said Pluma, laying a detai
ning hand uponhis arm.
"I am going to Elmwood," he cried, bitterly, "to prove this accusationis a cruel falsehood. Daisy has no lover; she is as sweet and pure asHeaven itself! I was mad to doubt her for a single instant."
"Judge for yourself, Rex--seeing is believing," said Pluma,maliciously, a smoldering vengeance burning in her flashing eyes, anda cold, cruel smile flitting across her face, while she murmured underher breath: "Go, fond, foolish lover; your fool's paradise will berudely shattered--ay, your hopes crushed worse than mine are now, foryour lips can not wear a smile like mine when your heart is breaking.Good-bye, Rex," she said, "and remember, in the hour when sorrowstrikes you keenest, turn to me; my friendship is true, and shallnever fail you."
Rex bowed coldly and turned away; his heart was too sick for emptywords, and the heavy-hearted young man, who slowly walked down thegraveled path away from Whitestone Hall in the moonlight, was aslittle like the gay, handsome Rex of one short week ago as could wellbe imagined.
There was the scent of roses and honeysuckles in the soft wind; andsome sweet-voiced bird awakened from sleep, and fancying it was day,swung to and fro amid the green foliage, filling the night withmelody. The pitying stars shone down upon him from the moonlightedheavens; but the still, solemn beauty of the night was lost upon Rex.He regretted--oh! so bitterly--that he had parted from his sweetlittle girl-bride, fearing his mother's scornful anger, or through asense of mistaken duty.
"Had they but known little Daisy is my wife, they would have known howimpossible was their accusation that she was with Lester Stanwick."
He shuddered at the very thought of such a possibility.
The thought of Daisy, his little girl-bride, being sent to schoolamused him.
"Poor little robin!" he murmured. "No wonder she flew from her bondagewhen she found the cage-door open! How pleased the little gypsy willbe to see me!" he mused. "I will clasp the dear little runaway in myarms, and never let her leave me again! Mother could not help lovingmy little Daisy if she were once to see her, and sister Birdie wouldtake to her at once."
The next morning broke bright and clear; the sunshine drifted throughthe green foliage of the trees, and crimson-breasted robins sungtheir sweetest songs in the swaying boughs of the blossomingmagnolias; pansies and buttercups gemmed the distant hill-slope, andnature's fountain--a merry, babbling brook--danced joyously throughthe clover banks. No cloud was in the fair, blue, smiling heavens; novoice of nature warned poor little Daisy, as she stood at the openwindow drinking in the pure, sweet beauty of the morning of the darkclouds which were gathering over her innocent head, and of the stormwhich was so soon to burst upon her in all its fury. Daisy turned awayfrom the window with a little sigh. She did not see a handsome,stalwart figure hurrying down the hill-side toward the cottage. Howher heart would have throbbed if she had only known Rex (for it washe) was so near her! With a strangely beating heart he advanced towardthe little wicket gate, at which stood one of the sisters, busilyengaged pruning her rose-bushes.
"Can you tell me, madame, where I can find the Misses Burton'scottage?" he asked, courteously lifting his hat.
"This is the Burton cottage," she answered, "and I am Ruth Burton.What can I do for you?"
"I would like to see Daisy Brooks, if you please. She is here, Ibelieve?" he said, questioningly. "May I come in?"
Rex's handsome, boyish face and winning smile won their way straightto the old lady's heart at once.
"Perhaps you are the young lady's brother, sir? There is evidentlysome mistake, however, as the young lady's name is Stanwick--DaisyStanwick. Her husband, Lester Stanwick--I believe that is the name--isalso in Elmwood."
All the color died out of Rex's handsome face and the light from hisbrown eyes. He leaned heavily against the gate-post. The words seemedshrieked on the air and muttered on the breeze.
"Daisy is _not_ his wife! My God, madame!" he cried, hoarsely, "she_could not_ be!"
"It is very true," replied the old lady, softly. "I have her own wordsfor it. There may be some mistake, as you say," she said, soothingly,noting the death-like despair that settled over the noble face. "Sheis a pretty, fair, winsome little creature, blue-eyed, and curlinggolden hair, and lives at Allendale. She is certainly married. I willcall her. She shall tell you so herself. Daisy--Mrs. Stanwick--comehere, dear," she called.
"I am coming, Miss Ruth," answered a sweet, bird-like voice, whichpierced poor Rex's heart to the very core as a girlish little figurebounded through the open door-way, out into the brilliant sunshine.
"God pity me!" cried Rex, staggering forward. "It _is_ Daisy--mywife!"
Daisy Brooks; Or, A Perilous Love Page 12