CHAPTER XXXI.
The preparations for the wedding went steadily on. It was to be amagnificent affair. Inside and outside of Whitestone Hall fairlyglowed with brilliancy and bloom.
Rex's deportment toward his promised bride was exemplary; he did hisbest to show her every possible attention and kindness in lieu of thelove which should have been hers.
There seemed to be no cloud in Pluma Hurlhurst's heaven.
She had no warning of the relentless storm-cloud that was gatheringabove her head and was so soon to burst upon her in all its fury.
She walked among her guests with a joyous, happy smile and the air ofa queen. Why should she not? On the morrow she would gain the prizeshe coveted most on earth--she would be Rex's wife.
Her father had gone unexpectedly to Baltimore, and the good oldhousekeeper had been laid to rest, but in the excitement and bustleattending the great coming event these two incidents created littlecomment.
Mirth and gayety reigned supreme, and the grim old halls resoundedwith laughter and song and gay young voices from morning until night.
Pluma, the spoiled, petted, willful heiress, was fond of excitementand gay throngs.
"Our marriage must be an event worthy of remembrance, Rex," she said,as they walked together through the grounds the morning before thewedding. "We must have something new and novel. I am tired ofbrilliant parlors and gas-light. I propose we shall have a beautifulplatform built, covered with moss and roses, beneath the blossomingtrees, with the birds singing in their boughs, upon which we shall beunited. What do you think of my idea--is it not a pretty one?"
"Your ideas are always poetical and fanciful," said Rex, glancing downinto the beautiful brilliant face beside him. "My thoughts are so dulland prosy compared with yours, are you not afraid you will have a verymonotonous life-companion?"
"I am going to try my best to win you from that cold reserve. Theremust not be one shadow between us; do you know, Rex, I have beenthinking, if anything should ever happen to take your love from me Ishould surely die. I--I am jealous of your very thoughts. I know Iought not to admit it, but I can not help it."
Rex flushed nervously; it was really embarrassing to him, the tenderway in which she looked up to him--her black eyelids coyly droopingover her dark, slumbrous eyes, inviting a caress. He was certainlywooed against his will, but there was no help for it; he was forced totake up his part and act it out gracefully.
"You need not be jealous of my thoughts, Pluma," he replied, "for theywere all of you."
"I wonder if they were pleasant thoughts?" she asked, toying with thecrimson flower-bells she holds in her white hands. "I have heard yousigh so much of late. Are you quite happy, Rex?" she inquired,hesitatingly.
The abruptness of the question staggered him: he recovered hiscomposure instantly, however.
"How can you ask me such a question, Pluma?" he asked, evasively; "anyman ought to be proud of winning so peerless a treasure as you are. Ishall be envied by scores of disappointed lovers, who have worshipedat your shrine. I am not as demonstrative as some might be undersimilar circumstances, but my appreciation is none the less keen."
She noticed he carefully avoided the word--love.
In after years Rex liked to remember that, yielding to a kindlyimpulse, he bent down and kissed her forehead.
It was the first time he had caressed her voluntarily; it was not lovewhich prompted the action--only kindness.
"Perhaps you will love me some day with your whole heart, Rex?" sheasked.
"You seem quite sure that I do not do that now?" he remarked.
"Yes," she said, clasping his arm more closely, "I often fear you donot, but as time passes you will give me all your affection. Love mustwin love."
Other young girls could not have made such an open declaration withoutrosy blushes suffusing their cheeks; they would have been frightenedat their free-spoken words, even though the morrow _was_ theirwedding-day.
She stood before him in her tall, slim loveliness, as fair a pictureas any man's eyes could rest on. She wore a most becoming dress, and aspring blossom was in her hair. Almost any other man's heart wouldhave warmed toward her as she raised her dark eyes to his and thewhite fingers trembled on his arm.
Rex was young, impulsive, and mortal; tender words from such lovelylips would have intoxicated any man. Yet from that faithful heart ofhis the words did not take one thought that belonged to Daisy; he didhis utmost to forget that sunny, golden memory.
To Pluma, handsome, courtly Rex was an enigma. In her own mind sheliked him all the better because he had not fallen down and worshipedher at once. Most men did that.
For several moments they walked along in utter silence--until they hadreached the brink of the dark pool, which lay quite at the further endof the inclosure.
Pluma gave a little shuddering scream:
"I did not mean to bring you here," she cried. "I always avoid thispath; the waters of the pool have always had a great dread for me."
"It should be filled up," said Rex, "or fenced around; it is certainlya dangerous locality."
"It can not be filled up," she returned, laughingly; "it is said to bebottomless. I do not like to think of it; come away, Rex."
The magnificent bridal costume, ordered expressly from Paris, hadarrived--perfect even to the last detail. The bride-maids' costumeswere all ready; and to everything in and about the Hall the lastfinishing touches had been given.
All the young girls hovered constantly around Pluma, in girl-fashionadmiring the costume, the veil, the wreath, and above all theradiantly beautiful girl who was to wear them. Even the Glenn girlsand Grace Alden were forced to admit the willful young heiress wouldmake the most peerless bride they had ever beheld.
Little Birdie alone held aloof, much to Rex's amusement and Pluma'sintense mortification.
"Little children often take such strange freaks," she would say toRex, sweetly. "I really believe your little sister intends never tolike me; I can not win one smile from her."
"She is not like other children," he replied, with a strange twinklein his eye. "She forms likes and dislikes to people from simplyhearing their name. Of course I agree with you it is not right to doso, but Birdie has been humored more or less all her life. I think shewill grow to love you in time."
Pluma's lips quivered like the lips of a grieving child.
"I shall try so hard to make her love me, because she is your sister,Rex."
He clasped the little jeweled hands that lay so confidingly within hisown still closer, saying he knew she could not help but succeed.
The whole country-side was ringing with the coming marriage. No onecould be more popular than handsome Rex Lyon, no one admired more thanthe young heiress of Whitestone Hall. The county papers were inecstasies; they discussed the magnificent preparations at the Hall,the number of bride-maids, the superb wedding-presents, thearrangements for the marriage, and the ball to be given in theevening.
The minister from Baltimore who was to perform the ceremony wasexpected to arrive that day. That all preparations might be completedfor the coming morrow, Rex had gone down to meet the train, and Plumastrolled into the conservatory, to be alone for a few moments withher own happy thoughts.
Out on the green lawns happy maidens were tripping here and there,their gay laughter floating up to her where she stood.
Every one seemed to be making the most of the happy occasion.Lawn-tennis parties here and croquet-parties there, and loversstrolling under the blossoming trees or reclining on the rusticbenches--it was indeed a happy scene.
Pluma leaned her dark head against the fragrant roses. The breeze, theperfume of the flowers, all told one story to the impassionedgirl--the story of her triumph and her mad, reckless love.
She gathered a spray of the fairest flowers, and fastened them in thebodice of her dress.
"To-morrow I shall have won the one great prize I covet," shemurmured, half aloud. "After to-morrow I can defy Lester Stanwick tobring one charge against me
. I shall be Rex's wife--it will avail himnothing."
"Speaking of angels, you often hear 'the rustle of their wings.' Ibelieve there is an old adage of that sort, or something similar,"said a deep voice beside her, and turning around with a low cry shesaw Lester Stanwick himself standing before her.
For one moment her lips opened as though to utter a piercing cry, buteven the very breath seemed to die upon them, they were so fixed andstill.
The flowers she held in her hand fell into the fountain against whichshe leaned, but she did not heed them.
Like one fascinated, her eyes met the gaze of the bold, flashing darkones bent so steadily upon her.
"You thought you would escape me," he said. "How foolish and blind youare, my clever plotter. Did you think I did not see through yourclever maneuverings? There shall be a wedding to-morrow, but you shallmarry me, instead of handsome, debonair Rex. You can not fly from yourfate."
She set her lips firmly together. She had made a valiant struggle. Shewould defy him to the bitter end. She was no coward, this beautiful,imperious girl. She would die hard. Alas! she had been too sanguine,hoping Lester Stanwick would not return before the ceremony wasperformed.
The last hope died out of that proud, passionate heart--as well hopeto divert a tiger from its helpless prey as expect Lester Stanwick torelinquish any plans he had once formed.
"I have fought my fight," she said to herself, "and have failed on thevery threshold of victory, still, I know how to bear defeat. What doyou propose to do?" she said, huskily. "If there is any way I can buyyour silence, name your price, keeping back the truth will avail melittle now. I love Rex, and no power on earth shall prevent me frombecoming his wife."
Lester Stanwick smiled superciliously--drawing from his pocket apackage of letters.
"Money could not purchase these charming _billets-doux_ from me," hesaid. "This will be charming reading matter for the Honorable RexLyon, and the general public to discuss."
She raised her flashing eyes unflinchingly to his face, but no wordissued from her white lips.
"A splendid morsel for the gossips to whisper over. The very refinedand exclusive heiress of Whitestone Hall connives to remove aninnocent rival from her path, by providing money for her to be sentoff secretly to boarding-school, from which she is to be abducted andconfined in a mad-house. Your numerous letters give full instructions;it would be useless to deny these accusations. I hold proofpositive."
"That would not screen you," she said, scornfully.
"I did not carry out your plans. No matter what the intentions were,the points in the case are what actually happened. I can swear Irefused to comply with your nefarious wishes, even though you promisedme your hand and fortune if I succeeded," he answered, mockingly.
"Will not money purchase your silence?" she said, with a deep-drawnbreath. "I do not plead with you for mercy or compassion," she said,haughtily.
Lester Stanwick laughed a mocking laugh.
"Do not mistake me, Miss Pluma," he said, making no attempt atlove-making; "I prefer to wrest you from Rex Lyon. I have contemplatedwith intense satisfaction the blow to his pride. It will be a gloriousrevenge, also giving me a charming bride, and last, but not least, thepossession at some future day of Whitestone Hall and the HurlhurstPlantations. A pleasing picture, is it not, my dear?"