Daisy Brooks; Or, A Perilous Love

by Laura Jean Libbey

  CHAPTER XIII.

  Rex had hoped against hope.

  "Daisy!" he cried, holding out his arms to her with a yearning,passionate cry. "My God! tell me it is false--you are _not_ here withStanwick--or I shall go mad! Daisy, my dear little sweetheart, mylittle love, why don't you speak?" he cried, clasping her close to hisheart and covering her face and hair and hands with passionate,rapturous kisses.

  Daisy struggled out of his embrace, with a low, broken sob, flingingherself on her knees at his feet with a sharp cry.

  "Daisy," said the old lady, bending over her and smoothing back thegolden hair from the lovely anguished face, "tell him the truth, dear.You are here with Mr. Stanwick; is it not so?"

  The sudden weight of sorrow that had fallen upon poor, hapless Daisyseemed to paralyze her very senses. The sunshine seemed blotted out,and the light of heaven to grow dark around her.

  "Yes," she cried, despairingly; and it almost seemed to Daisy anothervoice had spoken with her lips.

  "This Mr. Stanwick claims to be your husband?" asked the old lady,solemnly.

  "Yes," she cried out again, in agony, "but, Rex, I--I--"

  The words died away on her white lips, and the sound died away in herthroat. She saw him recoil from her with a look of white, frozenhorror on his face which gave place to stern, bitter wrath. Slowly andsadly he put her clinging arms away from him, folding his arms acrosshis breast with that terrible look upon his face such as a hero's facewears when he has heard, unflinchingly, his death sentence--the calmof terrible despair.

  "Daisy," he said, proudly, "I have trusted you blindly, for I lovedyou madly, passionately. I would as soon believe the fair smilingheavens that bend above us false as you whom I loved so madly and sowell. I was mad to bind you with such cruel, irksome bonds when yourheart was not mine but another's. My dream of love is shattered now.You have broken my heart and ruined and blighted my life. God forgiveyou, Daisy, for I never can! I give you back your freedom; I releaseyou from your vows; I can not curse you--I have loved you too well forthat; I cast you from my heart as I cast you from my life; farewell,Daisy--farewell forever!"

  She tried to speak, but her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth.Oh, pitying Heaven, if she could only have cried out to you and theangels to bear witness and proclaim her innocence! The strength tomove hand or foot seemed suddenly to have left her. She tried hard,oh! so hard, to speak, but no sound issued from her white lips. Shefelt as one in a horrible trance, fearfully, terribly conscious of allthat transpired around her, yet denied the power to move even a muscleto defend herself.

  "Have you anything to say to me, Daisy?" he asked, mournfully, turningfrom her to depart.

  The woful, terrified gaze of the blue eyes deepened pitifully, but shespoke no word, and Rex turned from her--turned from the girl-bridewhom he loved so madly, with a bursting, broken heart, more bitter tobear than death itself--left her alone with the pitying sunlightfalling upon her golden hair, and her white face turned up to heaven,silently praying to God that she might die then and there.

  Oh, Father above, pity her! She had no mother's gentle voice to guideher, no father's strong breast to weep upon, no sister's soothingpresence. She was so young and so pitifully lonely, and Rex haddrifted out of her life forever, believing her--oh, bitterest ofthoughts!--believing her false and sinful.

  Poor little Daisy was ignorant of the ways of the world; but a dimrealization of the full import of the terrible accusation broughtagainst her forced its way to her troubled brain.

  She only realized--Rex--her darling Rex, had gone out of her lifeforever.

  Daisy flung herself face downward in the long, cool, waving greengrass where Rex had left her.

  "Daisy," called Miss Burton, softly, "it is all over; come into thehouse, my dear."

  But she turned from her with a shuddering gasp.

  "In the name of pity, leave me to myself," she sobbed; "it is thegreatest kindness you can do me."

  And the poor old lady who had wrought so much sorrow unwittingly inthose two severed lives, walked slowly back to the cottage, with tearsin her eyes, strongly impressed there must be some dark mystery in theyoung girl's life who was sobbing her heart out in the green grassyonder; and she did just what almost any other person would have doneunder the same circumstances--sent immediately for Lester Stanwick.He answered the summons at once, listening with intense interest whilethe aged spinster briefly related all that had transpired; but throughoversight or excitement she quite forgot to mention Rex had calledDaisy his wife.

  "Curse him!" he muttered, under his breath, "I--I believe the girlactually cares for him."

  Then he went out to Daisy, lying so still and lifeless among the pinkclover and waving grass.

  Poor Daisy! Poor, desperate, lonely, struggling child! All this cruelload of sorrow, crushing her girlish heart, and blighting her younglife, and she so innocent, so entirely blameless, yet such a playthingof fate.

  "Daisy," he said, bending over her and lifting the slight form in hisarms, "they tell me some one has been troubling you. Who has daredannoy you? Trust in me, Daisy. What is the matter?"

  Lester Stanwick never forgot the white, pitiful face that was raisedto his.

  "I want to die," she sobbed. "Oh, why did you not leave me to die inthe dark water? it was so cruel of you to save me."

  "Do you want to know why I risked my life to save you, Daisy? Does notmy every word and glance tell you why?" The bold glance in his eyesspoke volumes. "Have you not guessed that I love you, Daisy?"

  "Oh, please do not talk to me in that way, Mr. Stanwick," she cried,starting to her feet in wild alarm. "Indeed you must not," shestammered.

  "Why not?" he demanded, a merciless smile stirring beneath his heavymustache. "I consider that you belong to me. I mean to make you mywife in very truth."

  Daisy threw up her hands in a gesture of terror heart-breaking to see,shrinking away from him in quivering horror, her sweet face ashenpale.

  "Oh, go away, go away!" she cried out. "I am growing afraid of you. Icould never marry you, and I would not if I could. I shall always begrateful to you for what you have done for me, but, oh, go away, andleave me now, for my trouble is greater than I can bear!"

  "You would not if you could," he repeated, coolly, smiling sostrangely her blood seemed to change to ice in her veins. "I thank yousincerely for your appreciation of me. I did not dream, however, youraversion to me was so deeply rooted. That makes little difference,however. I shall make you my wife this very day all the same;business, urgent business, calls me away from Elmwood to-day. I shalltake you with me as my wife."

  She heard the cruel words like one in a dream.

  "Rex! Rex!" she sobbed, under her breath. Suddenly she remembered Rexhad left her--she was never to look upon his face again. He had lefther to the cold mercies of a cruel world. Poor little Daisy--theunhappy, heart-broken girl-bride--sat there wondering what else couldhappen to her. "God has shut me out from His mercy," she cried; "thereis nothing for me to do but to die."

  "I am a desperate man, Daisy," pursued Stanwick, slowly. "My will ismy law. The treatment you receive at my hands depends entirely uponyourself--you will not dare defy me!" His eyes fairly glowed with astrange fire that appalled her as she met his passionate glance.

  Then Daisy lifted up her golden head with the first defiance she hadever shown, the deathly pallor deepening on her fair, sweet,flower-like face, and the look of a hunted deer at bay in thebeautiful velvety agonized eyes, as she answered:

  "I refuse to marry you, Mr. Stanwick. Please go away and leave me inpeace."

  He laughed mockingly.

  "I shall leave you for the present, my little sweetheart," he said,"but I shall return in exactly fifteen minutes. Hold yourself inreadiness to receive me then; I shall not come alone, but bring withme a minister, who will be prepared to marry us. I warn you not toattempt to run away," he said, interpreting aright the startled glanceshe cast about her. "In yonder lane stands a trusty sentinel to seethat
you do not leave this house. You have been guarded thus since youentered this house; knowing your proclivity to escape impendingdifficulties, I have prepared accordingly. You can not escape yourfate, my little wild flower!"

  "No minister would marry an unwilling bride--he could not. I wouldfling myself at his feet and tell him all, crying out I was--I was--"

  "You will do nothing of the kind," he interrupted, a hard, resolutelook settling on his face. "I would have preferred winning you by fairmeans, if possible; if you make it impossible I shall be forced to adesperate measure. I had not intended adopting such stringentmeasures, except in an extreme case. Permit me to explain what I shalldo to prevent you from making the slightest outcry." As he spoke hedrew from his pocket a small revolver heavily inlaid with pearl andsilver. "I shall simply hold this toy to your pretty forehead toprevent a scene. The minister will be none the wiser--he is blind? Doyou think," he continued, slowly, "that I am the man to give up athing I have set my heart upon for a childish whim?"

  "Believe me," cried Daisy, earnestly, "it is no childish whim. Oh, Mr.Stanwick, I want to be grateful to you--why will you torture me untilI hate you?"

  "I will marry you this very day, Daisy Brooks, whether you hate me orlove me. I have done my best to gain your love. It will come in time;I can wait for it."

  "You will never make me love you," cried Daisy, covering her face withher hands; "do not hope it--and the more you talk to me the less Ilike you. I wish you would go away."

  "I shall not despair," said Stanwick, with a confident smile. "I likethings which I find it hard to obtain--that was always one of mycharacteristics--and I never liked you so well as I like you now, inyour defiant anger, and feel more determined than ever to make you myown."

  Suddenly a new thought occurred to him as he was about to turn fromher.

  "Why, how stupid of me!" he cried. "I could not bring the parson here,for they think you my wife already. I must change my plan materiallyby taking you to the parsonage. We can go from here directly to thestation. I shall return in exactly fifteen minutes with a conveyance.Remember, I warn you to make no outcry for protection in the meantime.If you do I shall say you inherited your mother's malady. I am wellacquainted with your history, you see." He kissed his finger-tips toher carelessly. "_Au revoir_, my love, but not farewell," he said,lightly, "until we meet to be parted nevermore," and, with a quick,springy step Lester Stanwick walked rapidly down the clover-borderedpath on his fatal errand.

  In the distance the little babbling brook sung to her of peace andrest beneath its curling, limpid waters.

  "Oh, mother, mother," she cried, "what was the dark sorrow thattortured your poor brain, till it drove you mad--ay, mad--ending indeath and despair? Why did you leave your little Daisy here to sufferso? I feel such a throbbing in my own poor brain--but I must flyanywhere, anywhere, to escape this new sorrow. God has forgotten me."She took one step forward in a blind, groping, uncertain way. "My lastray of hope has died out," she cried as the memory of his cruel wordscame slowly back to her, so mockingly uttered--"the minister would benone the wiser--he is blind."