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"My God, do I dream?" he cried, clutching at the pommel of his saddle. "Is this the face of Daisy Brooks, or is it a specter, unable to sleep in the depths of her tomb, come back to haunt me for driving her to her doom?" Rex and Pluma talked for some time out in the moonlight, then Rex excused himself, and on the plea of having important business letters to write retired to the library.
"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."
"I never shall like her," cried Birdie, defiantly, "and I am sure Mr. Hurlhurst don't." "Birdie!" ejaculated the good lady in a fright, dropping her scissors and spools in consternation; "let me warn you not to talk so again; if Miss Pluma was to once hear you, you would have a sorry enough time of it all your after life. What put it into your head Mr. Hurlhurst did not like his own daughter?"
"I have sent for him to break the startling news of Daisy's presence, and I expect him here every moment." "Pluma," cried Daisy, unclasping her arms from her father's neck, and swiftly crossing over to where her rival stood, beautifully, proudly defiant, "forgive me for the pain I have caused you unknowingly. I did not dream I was an an heiress or that Mr. Hurlhurst was my father.
"You need not be jealous of my thoughts, Pluma," he replied, "for they were all of you." "I wonder if they were pleasant thoughts?" she asked, toying with the crimson flower-bells she holds in her white hands. "I have heard you sigh so much of late. Are you quite happy, Rex?" she inquired, hesitatingly. The abruptness of the question staggered him: he recovered his composure instantly, however.
He ran his eyes quickly over the page. The postscript seemed to enlighten him. "The course of true love never runs smooth," it ran, "and I beseech you, Pluma dear, if anything should ever happen, any shadow fall upon your love, I beseech you send for Rex and place this letter in his hands.
She could hear them coupling the names of Rex and Pluma Hurlhurst. Rex her husband! Daisy was blind and stupefied. She groped rather than walked from the library away from the three, who scarcely noticed her absence. Who cared that her heart was broken?
She could fancy the darkly beautiful face bending over him; her white jeweled hands upon his shoulder, or, perhaps, smoothing back the bonny brown clustering curls from his white brow. "My place should have been by his side," she continued. It hurt and pained her to hear the name of the man she loved dearer than life mentioned with the name of Pluma Hurlhurst.
"Miss Pluma, his daughter, wishes me to speak with him on a very important matter. I am surprised that he so persistently refuses to see me," said Rex, proudly, wondering if Pluma's father had heard that gossip among the guests that he did not love his daughter. "I do not know that I have offended the old gentleman in any way," he told himself.
"OLD COLLEGE CHUM," it began, "For the sake of those happy hours of our school-days, you will please favor me by reading what I have written to the end. "If you love Pluma Hurlhurst better than your sense of honor this letter is of no avail. I can not see you drifting on to ruin without longing to save you. You have been cleverly caught in the net the scheming heiress has set for you.
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