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Updated: May 31, 2025
Not a muscle of Pluma Hurlhurst's face quivered, but the woman uttered a low cry, shrinking close to her side. "Save me, Pluma!" she gasped. "I did it for your sake!" Basil Hurlhurst slowly put back the curtain, and stepped into the room, clasping his long-lost daughter to his breast. Daisy's arms were clinging round his neck, and her golden head rested on his shoulder.
The woman's eyes quickly followed in the direction indicated. Was it a curse the woman muttered as she watched the fair, golden-haired young girl-wife's head resting against Basil Hurlhurst's breast, his arms clasped lovingly about her? "Go, Pluma!" she commanded, bitterly. Quickly and cautiously the child sped on her fatal errand through the storm and the darkness.
"I dared not betray my identity then, but fled quickly from Whitestone Hall; for I knew, if all came to light, it would be proved without a doubt you were not the heiress of Whitestone Hall. "I saw a young girl, blue-eyed and golden-haired, singing like a lark in the fields. One glance at her face, and I knew she was Basil Hurlhurst's stolen child fate had brought directly to her father's home.
As he did so he came face to face with Daisy Brooks, standing motionless, like a statue, before him. Then she fell, with a low, gasping cry, senseless at Basil Hurlhurst's feet. Pluma Hurlhurst received her father's summons with no little surprise. "What can that foolish old man want, I wonder?" she soliloquized, clasping the diamond-studded bracelets on her perfect arms.
The servant never forgot the young man's haggard, hopeless face as he delivered Basil Hurlhurst's message. "Ah, it is better so," cried Rex to himself, vehemently, as the man silently and wonderingly closed the door. "I will go to him at once, and tell him I shall never marry his daughter. Heaven help me! I will tell him all."
"I hope not," replied Miss Raynor. "I would hate to be a rival of Pluma Hurlhurst's. I have often thought, as I watched her with Rex, it must be terrible to worship one person so madly. I have often thought Pluma's a perilous love." "Do not speak so," cried Grace. "You horrify me. Whenever I see her face I am afraid those words will be ringing in my ears a perilous love."
"I have heard all that has just passed, young lady," said a kind voice close beside her. "I am extremely sorry for you your case seems a pitiful one. I am sorry my daughter refused to see you; perhaps I can be of some assistance to you. I am Miss Hurlhurst's father." For a moment Daisy stood irresolute. "Follow me into my study, and tell me your trouble. You say it concerns my daughter.
"I must go and find Rex or Mr. Hurlhurst," she cried, grasping her crutch, and limping hurriedly out of the room. The door leading to Basil Hurlhurst's apartments stood open the master of Whitestone Hall sat in his easy-chair, in morning-gown and slippers, deeply immersed in the columns of his account-books. "Oh, Mr.
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.
"I suppose I might as well go down first as last to see what in the world he wants with me; he should have come to me if he had wished to see me so very particularly;" and the dutiful daughter, throwing the train of her dress carelessly over her arm, walked swiftly through the brilliantly lighted corridor toward Basil Hurlhurst's study. She turned the knob and entered.
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