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For sixteen years the grand old house had remained closed the plantation being placed in charge of a careful overseer. Once again Whitestone Hall was thrown open to welcome the master, Basil Hurlhurst, who had returned from abroad, bringing with him his beautiful daughter and a party of friends. The interior of the little cottage was astir with bustling activity.
The shade of night was wrapping its dusky mantle over the earth as Daisy, flushed and excited, and trembling in every limb, alighted from the train at Allendale. Whitestone Hall was quite a distance from the station; she had quite a walk before her. Not a breath of air seemed to stir the branches of the trees, and the inky blackness of the sky presaged the coming storm.
But for me you would never have enjoyed the luxuries of Whitestone Hall, and this is the way you repay me! Is there no natural instinct in your heart that tells you you are standing in your mother's presence?" "Every instinct in my heart tells me you are a vile impostor, woman. I wonder that you dare intimate such a thing. You are certainly an escaped lunatic.
He smiled as he thought of the last words Pluma Hurlhurst had said to him: "Revenge is sweet, Lester, when love is turned to bitter hatred. Help me to drag Rex Lyon's pride as low as he has this night dragged mine, and you shall have my hand as your reward. My father is an invalid he can not live much longer then you will be master of Whitestone Hall."
The days at Whitestone Hall flew by on rapid wings in a round of gayety. The Hall was crowded with young folks, who were to remain until after the marriage. Dinner parties were followed by May-pole dances out on the green lawns, and by charades and balls in the evening. The old Hall had never echoed with such frolicsome mirth before. Rex plunged into the excitement with strange zest.
She repeated the words with a clear, ringing laugh, her flaming eyes fairly scorching poor little Daisy's pale, frightened face. "Do you hear me, Daisy Brooks!" she screamed. "You loved Rex Lyon, and I have won him from you. You can queen it over Whitestone Hall, but I shall not care. I shall be queen of Rex's heart and home! Mine is a glorious revenge!"
"I was so sure of Rex," she said, bitterly; "if any one had said to me, 'Rex prefers your overseer's niece, Daisy Brooks, with her baby face and pink-and-white beauty, I would have laughed them to scorn. Prefers her to me, the haughty heiress of Whitestone Hall, for whose love, or even smile, men have sued in vain! I have managed the whole affair very cleverly!" she mused.
I questioned her, and she answered she had lived with Taiza Burt, but her name was Daisy Brooks." "It is a lie a base, ingenious lie!" shrieked Pluma. "Daisy Brooks the heiress of Whitestone Hall! Even if it were true," she cried, exultingly, "she will never reign here, the mistress of Whitestone Hall. She is dead."
A moment later she had returned with the key which was to unlock a world of misery to so many lives. "Promise me, Pluma, heiress of Whitestone Hall, never to tell what you have done or seen or heard to-night. You must never dare breathe it while you live. Say you will never tell, Pluma." "No," cried the child, "I shall never tell. They might kill me, but I would never tell them."
"But for once in your life you are at sea and far from shore; this portrait represents a different person altogether. Come, come, wife, get me a cup of tea quick and a biscuit," he cried, leading the way to the kitchen, where the savory supper was cooking. "I haven't time to wait for tea, I must overtake that girl before she reaches Whitestone Hall."
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