CHAPTER XXXVII.
For a moment Daisy stood irresolute. "Follow me into my study, andtell me your trouble. You say it concerns my daughter. Perhaps I canadvise you."
Ah, yes! he above all others could help her--he was Pluma's father--hecould stop the fatal marriage. She would not be obliged to face Rex.
Without another word Daisy turned and followed him. Although Daisy hadlived the greater portion of her life at John Brooks' cottage on theHurlhurst plantation, this was the first time she had ever gazed uponthe face of the recluse master of Whitestone Hall. He had spent thoseyears abroad; and poor Daisy's banishment dated from the time the lawnfete had been given in honor of their return.
Daisy glanced shyly up through her veil with a strange feeling of aweat the noble face, with the deep lines of suffering around the mouth,as he opened his study door, and, with a stately inclination of thehead, bade her enter.
"His face is not like Pluma's," she thought, with a strange flutter ather heart. "He looks good and kind. I am sure I can trust him."
Daisy was quite confused as she took the seat he indicated. Mr.Hurlhurst drew up his arm-chair opposite her, and waited with theutmost patience for her to commence.
She arose and stood before him, clasping her trembling little whitehands together supplicatingly. He could not see her face, for shestood in the shadow, and the room was dimly lighted; but he knew thatthe sweet, pathetic voice was like the sound of silvery bells chimingsome half-forgotten strain.
"I have come to tell you this wedding can not--must not--go onto-night!" she cried, excitedly.
Basil Hurlhurst certainly thought the young girl standing before himmust be mad.
"I do not understand," he said, slowly, yet gently. "Why do you, astranger, come to me on my daughter's wedding-night with such words asthese? What reason can you offer why this marriage should notproceed?"
He could not tell whether she had heard his words or not, she stoodbefore him so silent, her little hands working nervously together. Shelooked wistfully into his face, and she drew her slender figure up toits full height, as she replied, in a low, passionate, musical voice:
"Mr. Lyon can not marry your daughter, sir, for he has a livingwife."
"Mr. Lyon has a wife?" repeated Basil Hurlhurst, literally dumbfoundedwith amazement. "In Heaven's name, explain yourself!" he cried, risinghastily from his chair and facing her.
The agitation on his face was almost alarming. His grand old face wasas white as his linen. His eyes were full of eager, painful suspenseand excitement. With a violent effort at self-control he restrainedhis emotions, sinking back in his arm-chair like one who had receivedan unexpected blow.
Daisy never remembered in what words she told him the startling truth.He never interrupted her until she had quite finished.
"You will not blame Rex," she pleaded, her sweet voice choking withemotion; "he believes me dead."
Basil Hurlhurst did not answer; his thoughts were too confused. Yes,it was but too true--the marriage could not go on. He reached hastilytoward the bell-rope.
"You will not let my--Rex know until I am far away," she cried,piteously, as she put her marriage certificate in Mr. Hurlhurst'shand.
"I am going to send for Rex to come here at once," he made answer.
With a low, agonized moan, Daisy grasped his outstretched hand,scarcely knowing what she did.
"Oh, please do not, Mr. Hurlhurst," she sobbed. "Rex must not see me;I should die if you sent for him; I could not bear it--indeed, I couldnot." She was looking at him, all her heart in her eyes, and, as if hefelt magnetically the power of her glance, he turned toward her,meeting the earnest gaze of the blue, uplifted eyes.
The light fell full upon her fair, flushed face, and the bonnet andveil she wore had fallen back from the golden head.
A sudden mist seemed to come before his eyes, and he caught his breathwith a sharp gasp.
"What did you say your name was before you were married?" he asked, ina low, intense voice. "I--I--did not quite understand."
"Daisy Brooks, your overseer's niece," she answered, simply.
She wondered why he uttered such a dreary sigh as he muttered, halfaloud, how foolish he was to catch at every straw of hope.
Carefully he examined the certificate. It was too true. It certainlycertified Rexford Lyon and Daisy Brooks were joined together in thebonds of matrimony nearly a year before. And then he looked at thepaper containing the notice of her tragic death, which Daisy had readand carefully saved. Surely no blame could be attached to Rex, in theface of these proofs.
He was sorry for the beautiful, haughty heiress, to whom this terriblenews would be a great shock; he was sorry for Rex, he had grown sowarmly attached to him of late, but he felt still more sorry for thefair child-bride, toward whom he felt such a yearning, sympatheticpity.
The great bell in the tower slowly pealed the hour of eight, with adull, heavy clang, and he suddenly realized what was to be done mustbe done at once.
"I must send for both Rex and Pluma," he said, laying his hands on thebeautiful, bowed head; "but, if it will comfort you to be unobservedduring the interview, you shall have your wish." He motioned her toone of the curtained recesses, and placed her in an easy-chair. He sawshe was trembling violently.
It was a hard ordeal for him to go through, but there was noalternative.
He touched the bell with a shaking hand, thrusting the certificate andpaper into his desk.
"Summon my daughter Pluma to me at once," he said to the servant whoanswered the summons, "and bid Mr. Lyon come to me here within half anhour."
He saw the man held a letter in his hand.
"If you please, sir," said the man, "as I was coming to answer yourbell I met John Brooks, your overseer, in the hall below. A strangerwas with him, who requested me to give you this without delay."
Basil Hurlhurst broke open the seal. There were but a few penciledwords, which ran as follows:
"MR. HURLHURST,--Will you kindly grant me an immediate interview? I shall detain you but a few moments.
"Yours, hastily, "HARVEY TUDOR, "Of Tudor, Peck & Co, Detectives, Baltimore."
The man never forgot the cry that came from his master's lips as heread those brief words.
"Yes, tell him to come up at once," he cried; "I will see him here."
He forgot the message he had sent for Pluma and Rex--forgot theshrinking, timid little figure in the shadowy drapery of thecurtains--even the gay hum of the voices down below, and the strainsof music, or that the fatal marriage moment was drawing near.
He was wondering if the detective's visit brought him a gleam of hope.Surely he could have no other object in calling so hurriedly on thisnight above all other nights.
A decanter of wine always sat on the study table. He turned toward itnow with feverish impatience, poured out a full glass with his nervousfingers, and drained it at a single draught.
A moment later the detective and John Brooks, looking pale andconsiderably excited, were ushered into the study.
For a single instant the master of Whitestone Hall glanced into thedetective's keen gray eyes for one ray of hope, as he silently graspedhis extended hand.
"I see we are alone," said Mr. Tudor, glancing hurriedly around theroom--"we three, I mean," he added.
Suddenly Basil Hurlhurst thought of the young girl, quite hidden fromview.
"No," he answered, leading the way toward an inner room, separatedfrom the study by a heavy silken curtain; "but in this apartment weshall certainly be free from interruption. Your face reveals nothing,"he continued, in an agitated voice, "but I believe you have brought menews of my child."
Basil Hurlhurst had no idea the conversation carried on in the smallapartment to which he had conducted them could be overheard from thecurtained recess in which Daisy sat. But he was mistaken; Daisy couldhear every word of it.
She dared not cry
out or walk forth from her place of concealment lestshe should come suddenly face to face with Rex.
As the light had fallen on John Brooks' honest face, how she hadlonged to spring forward with a glad little cry and throw herself intohis strong, sheltering arms! She wondered childishly why he was therewith Mr. Tudor, the detective, whose voice she had instantlyrecognized.
"I have two errands here to-night," said the detective, pleasantly. "Ihope I shall bring good news, in one sense; the other we will discusslater on."
The master of Whitestone Hall made no comments; still he wondered whythe detective had used the words "one sense." Surely, he thought,turning pale, his long-lost child could not be dead.
Like one in a dream, Daisy heard the detective go carefully over theground with Basil Hurlhurst--all the incidents connected with the lossof his child. Daisy listened out of sheer wonder. She could not tellwhy.
"I think we have the right clew," continued the detective, "but wehave no actual proof to support our supposition; there is one partstill cloudy."
There were a few low-murmured words spoken to John Brooks. There was amoment of silence, broken by her uncle John's voice. For severalmoments he talked rapidly and earnestly, interrupted now and then byan exclamation of surprise from the master of Whitestone Hall.
Every word John Brooks uttered pierced Daisy's heart like an arrow.She uttered a little, sharp cry, but no one heard her. She fairly heldher breath with intense interest. Then she heard the detective tellthem the story of Rex Lyon's marriage with her, and he had come toWhitestone Hall to stop the ceremony about to be performed.
Basil Hurlhurst scarcely heeded his words. He had risen to his feetwith a great, glad cry, and pushed aside the silken curtains that ledto the study. As he did so he came face to face with Daisy Brooks,standing motionless, like a statue, before him. Then she fell, with alow, gasping cry, senseless at Basil Hurlhurst's feet.