Daisy Brooks: or, A Perilous Love. Libbey Laura Jean

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СКАЧАТЬ You said you had something to tell me. You will not part with me so easily,” she cried.

      A sudden terror seized her at the thought of losing him. He was her world. She forgot the guests gathering about her–forgot she was the wealthy, courted heiress for whose glance or smiles men sued in vain–forgot her haughty pride, in the one absorbing thought that Rex was going from her. Her wild, fiery, passionate love could bear no restraint.

      “Rex,” she cried, suddenly falling on her knees before him, her face white and stormy, her white jeweled hands clasped supplicatingly, “you must 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 will it matter, it is the truth. My love is my life. You loved me until she came between us with her false, fair face. But for this you would have asked 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 her bitter words.

      Rex was painfully distressed and annoyed. Fortunately but very few of the guests had observed the thrilling tableau enacted so near them.

      “Pluma–Miss Hurlhurst,” he said, “I am sorry you have unfortunately thus expressed yourself, for your own sake. I beg you will say no more. You yourself have severed this night the last link of friendship between us. I am frank with you in thus admitting it. I sympathize with you, while your words have filled me with the deepest consternation and embarrassment, which it is useless longer to prolong.”

      Drawing Daisy’s arm hurriedly within his own, Rex Lyon strode quickly down the graveled path, with the full determination of never again crossing the threshold of Whitestone Hall, or gazing upon the face of Pluma 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 her side at that opportune moment. “On the stage you would have made a grand success. We are practicing for a coming charade,” explained Stanwick, laughingly; “and, judging from the expressions depicted on our friend’s faces, I should say you have drawn largely upon real life. 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 fête resumed its sway.

      Long after the guests had departed Pluma sat in her boudoir, her heart torn with pain, love, and jealousy, her brain filled with schemes of vengeance.

      “I can not take her life!” she cried; “but if I could mar her beauty–the pink-and-white beauty of Daisy Brooks, which has won Rex from me–I would do it. I shall torture her for this,” she cried. “I will 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 who answered 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–“I will not be long!”

      CHAPTER IV

      “Daisy,” said Rex, gently, as he led her away from the lights and the echoing music out into the starlight that shone with a soft, silvery radiance over hill and vale, “I shall never forgive myself for being the cause of the cruel insult you have been forced to endure to-night. I declare it’s a shame. I shall tell Pluma so to-morrow.”

      “Oh, no–no–please don’t, Mr. Rex. I–I–had no right to waltz with you,” sobbed Daisy, “when I knew you were Pluma’s lover.”

      “Don’t say that, Daisy,” responded Rex, warmly. “I am glad, after all, everything has happened just as it did, otherwise I should never have known just how dear a certain little girl had grown to me; besides, I am not Pluma’s lover, and never shall be now.”

      “You have quarreled with her for my sake,” whispered Daisy, regretfully. “I am so sorry–indeed I am.”

      Daisy little dreamed, as she watched the deep flush rise to Rex’s face, it was of her he was thinking, and not Pluma, by the words, “a certain little girl.”

      Rex saw she did not understand him; he stopped short in the path, gazing down into those great, dreamy, pleading eyes that affected him so strangely.

      “Daisy,” he said, gently, taking her little clinging hands from his arm, and clasping them in his own, “you must not be startled at what I am going to tell you. When I met you under the magnolia boughs, I knew I had met my fate. I said to myself: ‘She, and no other, shall be my wife.’”

      “Your wife,” she cried, looking at him in alarm. “Please don’t say so. I don’t want to be your wife.”

      “Why not, Daisy?” he asked, quickly.

      “Because you are so far above me,” sobbed Daisy. “You are so rich, and I am only poor little Daisy Brooks.”

      Oh, how soft and beautiful were the eyes swimming in tears and lifted so timidly to his face! She could not have touched Rex more deeply. Daisy was his first love, and he loved her from the first moment their eyes met, with all the strength of his boyish, passionate nature; so it is not strange that the thought of possessing her, years sooner than he should have dared hope, made his young blood stir with ecstasy even though he knew it was wrong.

      “Wealth shall be no barrier between us, Daisy,” he cried. “What is all the wealth in the world compared to love? Do not say that again. Love outweighs everything. Even though you bid me go away and forget you, Daisy, I could not do it. I can not live without you.”

      “Do you really love me so much in so short a time?” she asked, blushingly.

      “My love can not be measured by the length of time I have known you,” he answered, eagerly. “Why, Daisy, the strongest and deepest love men have ever felt have come to them suddenly, without warning.”

      The glamour of love was upon him; he could see no faults in pretty little artless Daisy. True, she had not been educated abroad like Pluma, but that did not matter; such a lovely rosebud mouth was made for kisses, not grammar.

      Rex stood in suspense beside her, eagerly watching the conflict going on in the girl’s heart.

      “Don’t refuse me, Daisy,” he cried, “give me the right to protect you forever from the cold world; let us be married to-night. We will keep it a secret if you say so. You must–you must, Daisy, for I can not give you up.”

      Rex was so eager, so earnest, so thoroughly the impassioned lover! His hands were clinging to her own, his dark, handsome face drooped near hers, his pleading eyes searching her very soul.

      Daisy was young, romantic, and impressible; a thousand thoughts rushed through her brain; it would be so nice to have a young husband to love her and care for her like Rex, so handsome and so kind; then, too, she would have plenty of dresses, as fine as Pluma wore, all lace and puffs; she might have a carriage and СКАЧАТЬ