CHAPTER XV.
Slowly the days came and went for the next fortnight. The crisis hadpassed, and Dr. West said she would soon recover. The beautiful, long,golden hair had been shorn from the pretty little head, and therose-bloom had died out of the pretty cheeks, but the bright, restlesslight never left the beautiful blue eyes--otherwise there was butlittle change in Daisy.
It had been just two weeks that morning, they told her, as she openedher eyes to consciousness, since she had first been stricken down.
"And I have been here ever since?" she inquired, wonderingly.
"Yes, my dear," replied Ruth Burton, softly patting the thin whitecheeks; "of course you have been here ever since. I am afraid we aregoing to lose you soon, however. We have received a letter from yourhusband, saying he will be here some time to-morrow. Shall you bepleased to see him, dear?"
In one single instant all the dim, horrible past rushed back to Daisy'smind. She remembered flinging herself down in the clover-scentedgrass, and the world growing dark around her, as the terrible words ofStanwick rang in her ears--he would be back in just fifteen minutes toclaim her.
Ah, bonny little Daisy, tossing on your pillow, babbling emptynothings, better would it have been for you, perhaps, if you haddropped the weary burden of your life into the kindly arms of deaththen and there than to struggle onward into the dark mystery which layentombed in your future.
"Shall you be glad to see Mr. Stanwick, dear?" repeated the old lady,and, unconscious of any wrong, she placed the letter he had written inDaisy's hands. Like one in a terrible dream, Daisy read it quitethrough to the end. "You see, he says he incloses fifty dollars extrafor you, dear. I have placed it with the twenty safe in your littlepurse."
"Oh, Miss Ruth, you are so very kind to me. I shall never forget howgood you have all been to me," said Daisy, softly, watching the threepeaceful-faced old ladies, who had drawn their rocking-chairs, as wastheir custom, all in a row, and sat quietly knitting in the sunshine,the gentle click of their needles falling soothingly upon Daisy'spoor, tired brain.
"We shall miss you sadly when you go," said Ruth, knitting awayvigorously. "You have been like a ray of sunshine in this gloomy oldhouse. We have all learned to love you very dearly."
"You love me?" repeated Daisy, wonderingly. "I was beginning tobelieve every one hated me in the whole world, every one has been sobitter and so cruel with me, except poor old Uncle John. I oftenwonder why God lets me live--what am I to do with my life! Mariana inthe moated grange, was not more to be pitied than I. Death relievedher, but I am left to struggle on."
"Heaven hear her!" cried Ruth. "One suffers a great deal to lose allinterest in life. You are so young, dear, you could not have sufferedmuch."
"I have lost all I hold dear in life," she answered, pathetically,lifting her beautiful, childish blue eyes toward the white fleecyclouds tinted by the setting sun.
Their hearts ached for the pretty, lonely little creature. Theybelieved she was thinking of her mother. So she was--and of Rex, thehandsome young husband whom she so madly idolized in her worshipfulchildish fashion, who was worse than dead to her--the husband whoshould have believed in her honor and purity, though the world hadcried out to him that she was false. He had thrust aside allpossibility of her writing to him; cast her out from his life; lefther to be persecuted beyond all endurance; bound by a vow she dare notbreak to keep her marriage with Rex a secret. Though he was more cruelthan death, she loved Rex with a devotion that never faltered.
Daisy lay there, thinking of it all, while the soft, golden sunlightdied out of the sky, and the deep dusk of twilight crept softly on.
Then the old ladies arose from their chairs, folded their knitting,and put it away. Dusk was their hour for retiring.
They were discussing which one should sit up with Daisy, when shesummoned them all to her bedside.
"I want you all to go to bed and never mind me," coaxed Daisy, with astrange light in her eyes. "Take a good sleep, as I am going to do. Ishall be very happy to-morrow--happier than I have ever been before!"
She clasped her white arms about their necks in turn, clinging tothem, and sobbing as though she was loath to part with them.
Ruth's hand she held last and longest.
"Please kiss me again," she sobbed. "Clasp your arms tight around me,and say 'Good-night, Daisy.' It will be so nice to dream about."
With a cheery laugh the old lady lovingly complied with her request.
"You must close those bright little eyes of yours, and drift quicklyinto the Land of Nod, or there will be no roses in these cheeksto-morrow. Good-night, my pretty little dear!"
"Good-night, dear, kind Ruth!" sighed Daisy.
And she watched the old lady with wistful, hungry eyes as she pickedup her shaded night-lamp, that threw such a soft, sweet radiance overher aged face, as she quietly quitted the room.
A sudden change came over Daisy's face as the sound of her footstepsdied away in the hall.
"Oh, God! help me!" she cried, piteously, struggling to her feet. "Imust be far away from here when daylight breaks."
She was so weak she almost fell back on her bed again when sheattempted to rise. The thought of the morrow lent strength to herflagging energies. A strange mist seemed rising before her. Twice sheseemed near fainting, but her indomitable courage kept her fromsinking, as she thought of what the morrow would have in store forher.
Quietly she counted over the little store in her purse by the moon'srays.
"Seventy dollars! Oh, I could never use all that in my life!" shecried. "Besides, I could never touch one cent of Stanwick's money. Itwould burn my fingers--I am sure it would!"
Folding the bill carefully in two she placed it beneath her littlesnowy ruffled pillow. Then catching up the thick, dark shawl which layon an adjacent table, she wrapped it quickly about her. She opened thedoor leading out into the hall, and listened. All was still--solemnlystill.
Daisy crept softly down the stairs, and out into the quiet beauty ofthe still, summer night.
"Rex," she wailed, softly, "perhaps when I am dead you will feel sorryfor poor little Daisy, and some one may tell you how you have wrongedme in your thoughts, but you would not let me tell you how ithappened!"
In the distance she saw the shimmer of water lying white and stillunder the moon's rays, tipped by the silvery light of the stars.
"No, not that way," she cried, with a shudder; "some one might saveme, and I want to die!"
In the distance the red and colored gleaming lights of an apothecary'sshop caught her gaze.
"Yes, that way will be best," she said, reflectively.
She drew the shawl closer about her, pressing on as rapidly as herfeeble little feet would carry her. How weak she was when she turnedthe knob and entered--the very lights seemed dancing around her.
A small, keen-eyed, shrewd little man stepped briskly forward to waitupon her. He started back in horror at the utter despair and woe inthe beautiful young face that was turned for a moment toward him,beautiful in all its pallor as a statue, with a crown of golden hairsuch as pictures of angels wear encircling the perfect head.
"What can I do for you, miss?" queried the apothecary, gazingsearchingly into the beautiful dreamy blue eyes raised up to his andwondering who she could possibly be.
"I wish to purchase some laudanum," Daisy faltered. "I wish it torelieve a pain which is greater than I can bear."
"Toothache, most probably?" intimated the brisk little doctor. "I knowwhat it is. Lord bless you! I've had it until I thought I should jumpthrough the roof. Laudanum's a first-class thing, but I can tell youof something better--jerk 'em out, that's my recipe," he said, with anodd little smile. "Of course every one to their notion, and if you saylaudanum--and nothing else--why it's laudanum you shall have; butremember it's powerful. Why, ten drops of it would cause--death."
"How many drops did you say?" asked Daisy, bending forward eagerly."I--I want to be careful in taking it."
"Ten drops, I said, wou
ld poison a whole family, and twenty aregiment. You must use it very carefully, miss. Remember I have warnedyou," he said, handing her the little bottle filled with a dark liquidand labeled conspicuously, "Laudanum--a poison."
"Please give me my change quickly," she said, a strange, deadlysickness creeping over her.
"Certainly, ma'am," assented the obliging little man, handing her backthe change.
Daisy quite failed to notice that he returned her the full amount shehad paid him in his eagerness to oblige her, and he went happily backto compounding his drugs in the rear part of the shop, quiteunconscious he was out the price of the laudanum.
He was dreaming of the strange beauty of the young girl, and the smiledeepened on his good-humored face as he remembered how sweetly she hadgazed up at him.
Meanwhile Daisy struggled on, clasping her treasure close to herthrobbing heart. She remembered Ruth had pointed out an old shaft toher from her window; it had been unused many years, she had said.
"The old shaft shall be my tomb," she said; "no one will think oflooking for me there."
Poor little Daisy--unhappy girl-bride, let Heaven not judge herharshly--she was sorely tried.
"Mother, mother!" she sobbed, in a dry, choking voice, "I can not liveany longer. I am not taking the life God gave me, I am only returningit to Him. This is the only crime I have ever committed, mother, andman will forget it, and God will forgive me. You must plead for me,angel-mother. Good-bye, dear, kind Uncle John, your love never failedme, and Rex--oh, Rex--whom I love best of all, you will not know how Iloved you. Oh, my love--my lost love--I shall watch over you upthere!" she moaned, "and come to you in your dreams! Good-bye, Rex, mylove, my husband!" she sobbed, holding the fatal liquid to her parchedlips.
The deep yawning chasm lay at her feet. Ten--ay, eleven drops shehastily swallowed. Then with one last piteous appeal to Heaven forforgiveness, poor, helpless little Daisy closed her eyes and sprunginto the air.