CHAPTER XXIII.
The servant who opened the door for Daisy looked earnestly at thefair, pleading young face, framed in rings of golden hair, so pure andspiritual that it looked like an angel's with the soft white moonlightfalling over it.
"You will not refuse me," she repeated, timidly. "I must speak to Mrs.Lyon."
"You have come too late," he replied, gently; "Mrs. Lyon is dead."
The man never forgot the despairing look of horror that deepened inthe childish blue eyes raised to his.
"Rex's mother dead!" she repeated, slowly, wondering if she had heardaright. "Oh, my poor Rex, my poor Rex!"
How she longed to go to him and comfort him in that terrible hour, butshe dared not intrude upon him.
"If there is any message you would like to leave," said thekind-hearted Parker, "I will take it to Mr. Rex."
"No," said Daisy, shaking her head, "I have no message to leave;perhaps I will come again--after this is all over," she made answer,hesitatingly; her brain was in a whirl; she wanted to get away all byherself to think. "Please don't say any one was here," she said,quickly; "I--I don't want any one to know."
The sweet, plaintive voice, as sweet as the silvery note of a forestbird, went straight to his heart.
Whatever the mission of this beautiful, mysterious visitor, he wouldcertainly respect her wishes.
"I shall not mention it if you do not wish it," he said.
"Thank you," she replied, simply; "you are very kind. My life seemsmade up of disappointments," she continued, as she walked slowly homeunder the restless, sighing green branches.
It seemed so indeed. She was so young and inexperienced to be thrownso entirely upon the cold, pitiless world--cut off so entirely fromall human sympathy. She entered the house quite unobserved.Eve--bright, merry, dashing Eve--was singing like a lark in thedrawing-room, making the old house echo with her bright young voice.
"How happy she is!" thought Daisy, wistfully. "She has home, friends,and love, while I have nothing that makes life worth the living."
Like a shadow, she flitted on through the dim, shadowy hall, towardher own little room. She saw Gertie's door was ajar as she passed it,and the sound of her own name caused her to pause voluntarily.
It was very natural for Daisy to pause. How many are there who wouldhave passed on quietly, with no desire to know what was being said ofthemselves, when they heard their own names mentioned in such asneering manner? Daisy certainly meant no harm by it; she paused,thoughtfully and curiously, as any one would have done.
"I am sure I don't like it," Gertie was saying, spitefully. "It is anactual shame allowing Daisy Brooks to remain here. Uncle Jet was amean old thing to send her here, where there were three marriageableyoung ladies. I tell you he did it out of pure spite."
"I believe it," answered Bess, spiritedly. "Every one of my beauseither hints for an introduction or asks for it outright."
"What do you tell them?" questions Gertie, eagerly.
"Tell them! Why, I look exceedingly surprised, replying: 'I do notknow to whom you refer. We have no company at the house just now.' 'Imean that beautiful, golden-haired little fairy, with the rosy cheeksand large blue eyes. If not your guest, may I ask who she is?' I amcertainly compelled to answer so direct a thrust," continued Bess,angrily; "and I ask in well-feigned wonder: 'Surely you do not meanDaisy Brooks, my mother's paid companion?'"
"What do they say to that?" asked Gertie, laughing heartily at herelder sister's ingenuity, and tossing her curl papers until every curlthreatened to tumble down. "That settles it, doesn't it?"
"Mercy, no!" cried Bess, raising her eyebrows; "not a bit of it. Themore I say against her--in a sweet way, of course--the more they aredetermined to form her acquaintance."
"I don't see what every one can see in that little pink-and-whitebaby-face of hers to rave over so!" cried Gertie, hotly. "I can'timagine where in the world people see her. I have as much as told hershe was not expected to come into the parlor or drawing-room whenstrangers were there, and what do you suppose she said?"
"Cried, perhaps," said Bess, yawning with ennui.
"She did nothing of the kind," retorted Gertie. "She seized my hand,and said: 'Oh, Miss Gertrude, that is very kind of you, indeed! Ithank you ever so much!'"
"Pshaw!" cried Bess, contemptuously. "That was a trick to make youbelieve she did not want to be observed by our guests. She is a sly,designing little creature, with her pretty face and soft, childishways."
"But there is one point that seriously troubles me," said Gertie,fastening the pink satin bow on her tiny slipper more securely, andbreaking off the thread with a nervous twitch. "I am seriously afraid,if Rex were to see her, that would be the end of our castle in theair. Daisy Brooks has just the face to attract a handsome, debonairyoung fellow like Rex."
"You can depend upon it he shall never see her," said Bess, decidedly."Where there's a will there's a way."
"I have never been actually jealous of anyone before," said Gertie,flushing furiously, as she acknowledged the fact; "but that Daisy hassuch a way of attracting people toward her they quite forget yourpresence when she is around. 'When one rival leaves the field, anotherone is sure to come to the fore.' That's a true saying," said Gertie,meditatively. "You see, he did not marry the heiress of WhitestoneHall. So he is still in the market, to be captured by some luckygirl."
"Well, if I am the lucky one, you must forgive me, Gertie. All is fairin love and war, you know. Besides, his wealth is too tempting to seeslip quietly by without a struggle."
Before she could reply Eve popped in through the long French windowthat opened out on the porch.
"Oh, I'm so tired of hearing you two talk of lovers and riches!" shecried, throwing herself down on the sofa. "I do hate to hear loveweighed against riches, as if it were a purchasable article. Accordingto your ideas, if a fellow was worth a hundred thousand, you wouldlove him moderately; but if he was worth half a million, you couldafford to love him immensely."
"You have got a sensible idea of the matter," said Bess, coolly.
"For shame!" cried Eve, in a hot fury. "It's an actual sin to talk inthat way. If a handsome young man loves you, and you love him, why,you ought to marry him if he hadn't a dollar in the world!"
Gertie and the worldly-wise Bess laughed at their younger sister'senthusiasm.
"Now, there's Rex Lyon, for instance," persisted Eve, absolutelyrefusing to be silenced. "I would wager a box of the best kid gloveseither one of you would marry him to-morrow, if he were to ask you, ifhe hadn't a penny in his pocket."
"Pshaw!" reiterated Gertie, and Bess murmured something about absurdideas; but nevertheless both sisters were blushing furiously to thevery roots of their hair. They well knew in their hearts what she saidwas perfectly true.
"Eve," said Bess, laying her hand coaxingly on the young rebel's arm,"Gertie and I want you to promise us something. Come, now, consentthat you will do as we wish, that's a good girl."
"How can I promise before I know what you want?" said Eve, petulantly."You might want the man in the moon, after you've tried and failed toget his earthly brethren, for all I know!"
"Eve, you are actually absurd!" cried Bess, sharply. "This is merely aslight favor we wish you to do."
"If you warn her not to do a thing, that is just what she will set herheart upon doing," said Gertie, significantly.
By this time Eve's curiosity was well up.
"You may as well tell me anyhow," she said; "for if you don't, and Iever find out what it is, I'll do my very worst, because you kept itfrom me."
"Well," said Gertie, eagerly, "we want you to promise us not to giveDaisy Brooks an introduction to Rex Lyon."
A defiant look stole over Eve's mischievous face.
"If he asks me, I'm to turn and walk off, or I'm to say, 'No, sir, Iam under strict orders from my marriageable sisters not to.' Is thatwhat you mean?"
"Eve," they both cried in chorus, "don't be unsisterly; don't put astumbling-block in our path; r
ather remove it!"
"I shall not bind myself to such a promise!" cried Eve. "You aretrying to spoil my pet scheme. I believe you two are actually witchesand guessed it. What put it into your heads that I had any suchintentions anyhow?"
"Then you were actually thinking of going against our interest in thatway," cried Gertie, white to the very lips, "you insolent littleminx!"
"I don't choose to remain in such polite society," said Eve, with amocking courtesy, skipping toward the door. "I may take a notion towrite a little note to Mr. Rex, inviting him over here to see ourhousehold fairy, just as the spirit moves me."
This was really more than Gertie's warm, southern temper could bear.She actually flew at the offending Eve in her rage; but Eve was nimbleof foot and disappeared up the stairway, three steps at a bound.
"What a vixen our Gertie is growing to be!" she cried, pantingly, asshe reached the top step.
She saw a light in Daisy's room, and tapped quietly on the door.
"Is that you, Eve?" cried a smothered voice from the pillows.
"Yes," replied Eve; "I'd like very much to come in. May I?"
For answer, Daisy opened the door, but Eve stood quite still on thethreshold.
"What's the matter, Daisy, have you been crying?" she demanded. "Why,your eyelids are red and swollen, and your eyes glow like the stars.Has Gertie or Bess said anything cross to you?" she inquired,smoothing back the soft golden curls that clustered round the whitebrow.
"No," said Daisy, choking down a hard sob; "only I am very unhappy,Eve, and I feel just--just as if every one in the world hated me."
"How long have you been up here in your room?" asked Eve, suspiciously,fearing Daisy had by chance overheard the late conversationdown-stairs.
"Quite an hour," answered Daisy, truthfully.
"Then you did not hear what I was talking about down-stairs, did you?"she inquired, anxiously.
"No," said Daisy, "you were playing over a new waltz when I cameupstairs."
"Oh," said Eve, breathing freer, thinking to herself, "She has notheard what we said. I am thankful for that."
"You must not talk like that, Daisy," she said, gayly, clasping herarms caressingly around the slender figure leaning against thecasement; "I predict great things in store for you--wonderful things.Do not start and look at me so curiously, for I shall not tell youanything else, for it is getting dangerously near a certain forbiddensubject. You know you warned me not to talk to you of love or lovers.I intend to have a great surprise for you. That is all I'm going totell you now."
Eve was almost frightened at the rapture that lighted up the beautifulface raised to her own.
"Has any one called for me, Eve?" she asked, piteously. "Oh, Eve, tellme quickly. I have hoped against hope, almost afraid to indulge sosweet a dream. Has any one inquired for me?"
Eve shook her head, sorely puzzled.
"Were you expecting any one to call?" she asked. She saw the light diequickly out of the blue eyes and the rich peachlike bloom from thedelicate, dimpled cheeks. "I know something is troubling you greatly,little Daisy," she said, "and I sympathize with you even if I may notshare your secret."
"Every one is so cold and so cruel to me, I think I should die if Iwere to lose your friendship, Eve," she said.
Eve held the girl's soft white hand in hers. "You will never die,then, if you wait for that event to happen. When I like a person, Ilike them for all time. I never could pretend a friendship I did notfeel. And I said to myself the first moment I saw you: 'What a sweetlittly fairy! I shall love her, I'm sure.'"
"And do you love me?" asked Daisy.
"Yes," said Eve; "my friendship is a lasting one. I could do almostanything for you."
She wondered why Daisy took her face between her soft little palms andlooked so earnestly down into her eyes, and kissed her lips sorepeatedly.
Poor Daisy! if she had only confided in Eve--reckless, impulsive,warm-hearted, sympathetic Eve--it might have been better for her. "Nomatter what you might hear of me in the future, no matter what fatemight tempt me to do, promise me, Eve, that you, of all the world,will believe in me, you will not lose your faith in me." The sweetvoice sounded hollow and unnatural. "There are dark, pitiful secretsin many lives," she said, "that drive one to the very verge of madnessin their woe. If you love me, pray for me, Eve. My feet are on theedge of a terrible precipice."
In after years Eve never forgot the haunted look of despair thatcrossed the fair face of Daisy Brooks, as the words broke from herlips in a piteous cry.