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Pluma's eyes flashed like ebony fires, and unrestrained passion was written on every feature of her face, as the woman took her position directly in front of her with folded arms, and dark eyes gleaming quite as strangely as her own. Pluma, through sheer astonishment at her peculiar, deliberate manner, was hushed into strange expectancy.

"I shall be heartily glad when I am Rex Lyon's wife. I shall soon tell him, then, in pretty plain words, I am not at his beck and call any longer. Come to him instantly, indeed! I shall certainly do no such thing," she muttered. "Did you speak, mademoiselle?" asked the maid. "No," replied Pluma, glancing at the little jeweled watch that glittered in its snow-white velvet case.

You will do exactly as I say, Pluma; you may spare yourself a great deal that may be unpleasant if you not only listen but quietly obey me. Otherwise " Pluma sprung wildly to her feet. "Obey you! obey you!" She would have screamed the words in her ungovernable rage, had not a look from this woman's eyes, who used her name with such ill-bred familiarity, actually frightened her.

He did not notice that Pluma stood in the curtained recesses of an adjoining window as he answered, carelessly enough: "Of course, I hope it will be a fine, sunshiny day, but the indications of the weather don't look exactly that way, if I am any judge." "Why, you don't think it is going to rain, do you? Why, it will spoil the rose-bower she is to be married in and all the beautiful decoration.

I have always endeavored to be frank with you, Pluma," he said, kindly. "I have never spoken words which might lead you to believe I loved you." He saw her face grow white under his earnest gaze and the white lace on her bosom rise and fall convulsively, yet she made him no answer.

The door was closed, and she stood motionless, trying to understand and realize what she had heard. "Have my senses deceived me?" She said the words over and over to herself. "Did I dream it? Can it even be possible Pluma Hurlhurst is coming here, coming to the home where I should have been? God help me. Coming to comfort Rex my husband!"

The path up which she walked commanded a full view of Pluma Hurlhurst's boudoir. The crimson satin curtains, for some reason, were still looped back, and she could see the trim little maid arranging her long dark hair; she wore a silver-white dressing-robe, bordered around with soft white swan's-down and her dainty white satin-slippered feet rested on a crimson velvet hassock.

"Miss Hurlhurst," cried Rex, in a voice husky with emotion, "I hold myself responsible for this young lady's presence here. "Ah!" interrupts Pluma, ironically; "and may I ask by what right you force one so inferior, and certainly obnoxious, among us?" Rex Lyon's handsome face was white with rage.

In the din of the excitement, Pluma Hurlhurst shook the dust of Whitestone Hall forever from her feet, muttering maledictions at the happy occupants. She had taken good care to secure all the valuables that she could lay her hands on, which were quite a fortune in themselves, securing her from want for life. She was never heard from more.

Pluma Hurlhurst recoiled from the touch, fairly holding her breath, speechless with fury and astonishment. "You insolent creature!" she cried. "I wonder at your boldness in forcing your presence upon me. Did I not have you thrust from the house an hour ago, with the full understanding I would not see you, no matter who you were or whom you wanted."