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Now he understood why he had felt such a terrible aversion to Pluma all along. She had separated him from his beautiful, golden-haired child-bride. His eyes rested on the certificate which bore Pluma's name, also his own. He tore it into a thousand shreds. "It is all over between us now," he cried.
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.
From the breast-pocket of his coat he took the cluster of daisies he had gone through the storm on his wedding-night to gather. He was waiting until the monument should arrive before he could gather courage to tell Pluma the sorrowful story of his love-dream. All at once he remembered the letter a stranger had handed him outside of the entrance gate.
"They used to hang behind the pantry door a great bunch of them. Don't they hang there now?" "Ye es." "I thought so," muttered the woman, triumphantly. "Now, listen, Pluma; I want you to do exactly as I bid you. I want you to go quickly and quietly, and bring me the longest and thinnest one. You are not to breathe one word of this to any living soul.
I screened myself, and watched to see what would become of the child, as I saw a man's form approaching in the distance. "I fairly caught my breath as he drew near. I saw it was my own husband, whom I had so cruelly deserted years ago your father, Pluma, who never even knew or dreamed of your existence. "Carefully he lifted the basket and the sleeping babe.
She had heard the ceremony was to be performed promptly at half past eight, it was seven already. "What could it mean?" She had been too much startled and dismayed when she found it was Rex to make herself known. Ah, no, Rex must never know she was so near him; it was Pluma she must see. "Why had he come to the magnolia-tree?" she asked herself over and over again.
With a smile and a bow, what could Rex do but lead Daisy gracefully forward. Those who witnessed the scene that ensued never forgot it. For answer Pluma Hurlhurst turned coldly, haughtily toward them, drawing herself up proudly to her full height. "There is evidently some mistake here," she said, glancing scornfully at the slight, girlish figure leaning upon Rex Lyon's arm.
I have read of it before; it will be a magnificent affair. The husband-to-be, Mr. Rexford Lyon, is very wealthy; and the bride, Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, is quite a society belle a beauty and an heiress."
After the first waltz he had suddenly disappeared. Only the evening before handsome Rex Lyon had held her jeweled hand long at parting, whispering, in his graceful, charming way, he had something to tell her on the morrow. "Why did he hold himself so strangely aloof?" Pluma asked herself, in bitter wonder. Ah! had she but known!
I have told her repeatedly it is an utter impossibility you would not see her; but she declares she will not go away until she does see you." Pluma turns from the window with cold disdain. "You should know better than to deliver a message of this kind to me. How dare the impertinent, presuming beggar insist upon seeing me! Order the servants to put her out of the house at once."
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