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

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СКАЧАТЬ peachy bloom on her cheeks deepened; with Daisy’s thoughtless clinging nature, her craving for love and protection, her implicit faith in Rex, who had protected her so nobly at the fête–it is not to be wondered Rex won the day.

      Shyly Daisy raised her blue eyes to his face–and he read a shy, sweet consent that thrilled his very soul.

      “You shall never regret this hour, my darling,” he cried, then in the soft silvery twilight he took her to his heart and kissed her rapturously.

      His mother’s bitter anger, so sure to follow–the cold, haughty mother, who never forgot or forgave an injury, and his little sister Birdie’s sorrow were at that moment quite forgotten–even if they had been remembered they would have weighed as naught compared with his lovely little Daisy with the golden hair and eyes of blue looking up at him so trustingly.

      Daisy never forgot that walk through the sweet pink clover to the little chapel on the banks of the lonely river. The crickets chirped in the long green grass, and the breeze swayed the branches of the tall leafy trees, rocking the little birds in their nests.

      A sudden, swift, terrified look crept up into Daisy’s face as they entered the dim shadowy parlor. Rex took her trembling chilled hands in his own; if he had not, at that moment, Daisy would have fled from the room.

      “Only a little courage, Daisy,” he whispered, “then a life of happiness.”

      Then as if in a dream she stood quite still by his side, while the fatal ceremony went on; in a confused murmur she heard the questions and responses of her lover, and answered the questions put to her; then Rex turned to her with a smile and a kiss.

      Poor little thoughtless Daisy–it was done–in a moment she had sown the seeds from which was to spring up a harvest of woe so terrible that her wildest imagination could not have painted it.

      “Are we really married, Rex?” she whispered, as he led her out again into the starlight; “it seems so much like a dream.”

      He bent his handsome head and kissed his pretty child-bride. Daisy drew back with a startled cry–his lips were as cold as ice.

      “Yes, you are my very own now,” he whispered. “No one shall ever have the right to scold you again; you are mine now, Daisy, but we must keep it a secret from every one for awhile, darling. You will do this for my sake, won’t you, Daisy?” he asked. “I am rich, as far as the world knows, but it was left to me under peculiar conditions. I–I–do not like to tell you what those conditions were, Daisy.”

      “Please tell me, Rex,” she said, timidly; “you know I am your–your–wife–now.”

      Daisy blushed so prettily as she spoke. Rex could not refrain from catching her up in his arms and kissing her.

      “You shall know, my darling,” he cried. “The conditions were I should marry the bride whom my mother selected for me. I was as much startled as you will be, Daisy, when you hear who it was–Pluma Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall.”

      “But you can not marry her now, Rex,” whispered the little child-bride, nestling closer in his embrace.

      “No; nor I would not if I could. I love you the best, my pretty wild flower. I would not exchange you, sweet, for all the world. I have only told you this so you will see why it is necessary to keep our marriage a secret–for the present, at least.”

      Daisy readily consented.

      “You are very wise, Rex,” she said. “I will do just as you tell me.”

      By this time they had reached Daisy’s home.

      “I will meet you to-morrow at the magnolia-tree, where first I found my little wood-nymph, as I shall always call you. Then we can talk matters over better. You will be sure to come while the dew sparkles on your pretty namesakes?” he asked, eagerly.

      Before she had time to answer the cottage door opened and Septima appeared in the door-way. Rex was obliged to content himself with snatching a hasty kiss from the rosy lips. The next moment he was alone.

      He walked slowly back through the tangled brushwood–not to Whitestone Hall, but to an adjoining hostelry–feeling as though he were in a new world. True, it was hard to be separated from his little child-bride. But Rex had a clever brain; he meant to think of some plan out of the present difficulty. His face flushed and paled as he thought of his new position; it seemed to him every one must certainly read in his face he was a young husband.

      Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the broad gravel path to the little cottage, wondering if it were a dream.

      “Well!” said Septima, sharply, “this is a pretty time of night to come dancing home, leaving me all alone with the baking! If I hadn’t my hands full of dough I’d give your ears a sound boxing! I’ll see you’re never out after dark again, I’ll warrant.”

      For a moment Daisy’s blue eyes blazed, giving way to a roguish smile.

      “I wonder what she would say if she knew I was Daisy Brooks no longer, but Mrs. Rex Lyon?” she thought, untying the blue ribbons of her hat. And she laughed outright as she thought how amazed Septima would look; and the laugh sounded like the ripple of a mountain brook.

      “Now, Aunt Seppy,” coaxed Daisy, slipping up behind her and flinging her plump little arms around the irate spinster’s neck, “please don’t be cross. Indeed I was very particularly detained.”

      Stptima shook off the clinging arms angrily.

      “You can’t coax me into upholding you with your soft, purring ways. I’m not Brother John, to be hoodwinked so easily. Detained! A likely story!”

      “No,” laughed Daisy; “but you are dear old Uncle John’s sister, and I could love you for that, if for nothing else. But I really was detained, though. Where’s Uncle John?”

      “He’s gone to the Hall after you, I reckon. I told him he had better stop at home–you were like a bad penny, sure to find your way back.”

      A sudden terror blanched Daisy’s face.

      “When did he go, Aunt Seppy?” she asked, her heart throbbing so loudly she was sure Septima would hear it.

      “An hour or more ago.”

      Daisy hastily picked up her hat again.

      “Where are you going?” demanded Septima, sharply.

      “I–I–am going to meet Uncle John. Please don’t stop me,” she cried, darting with the speed of a young gazelle past the hand that was stretched out to stay her mad flight. “I–I–must go!”

      CHAPTER V

      “I say you shall not,” cried Septima, planting herself firmly before her. “You shall not leave this house to-night.”

      “You have no right to keep me here,” panted Daisy. “I am–I am–” The words died away on her lips. Rex had told her she must not tell just yet.

      “You are a rash little fool,” cried Septima, wrathfully. “You are the bane of my life, and have been ever since that stormy winter night John brought you here. I told him then to wash his hands of the whole matter; you would grow up a willful, impetuous minx, and turn out at last like your mother.”

      Daisy СКАЧАТЬ