CHAPTER IV.
"Daisy," said Rex, gently, as he led her away from the lights and theechoing music out into the starlight that shone with a soft, silveryradiance over hill and vale, "I shall never forgive myself for beingthe cause of the cruel insult you have been forced to endure to-night.I declare it's a shame. I shall tell Pluma so to-morrow."
"Oh, no--no--please don't, Mr. Rex. I--I--had no right to waltz withyou," sobbed Daisy, "when I knew you were Pluma's lover."
"Don't say that, Daisy," responded Rex, warmly. "I am glad, after all,everything has happened just as it did, otherwise I should never haveknown just how dear a certain little girl had grown to me; besides, Iam not Pluma's lover, and never shall be now."
"You have quarreled with her for my sake," whispered Daisy,regretfully. "I am so sorry--indeed I am."
Daisy little dreamed, as she watched the deep flush rise to Rex'sface, it was of her he was thinking, and not Pluma, by the words, "acertain little girl."
Rex saw she did not understand him; he stopped short in the path,gazing down into those great, dreamy, pleading eyes that affected himso strangely.
"Daisy," he said, gently, taking her little clinging hands from hisarm, and clasping them in his own, "you must not be startled at what Iam going to tell you. When I met you under the magnolia boughs, I knewI had met my fate. I said to myself: 'She, and no other, shall be mywife.'"
"Your wife," she cried, looking at him in alarm. "Please don't say so.I don't want to be your wife."
"Why not, Daisy?" he asked, quickly.
"Because you are so far above me," sobbed Daisy. "You are so rich, andI am only poor little Daisy Brooks."
Oh, how soft and beautiful were the eyes swimming in tears and liftedso timidly to his face! She could not have touched Rex more deeply.Daisy was his first love, and he loved her from the first moment theireyes met, with all the strength of his boyish, passionate nature; soit is not strange that the thought of possessing her, years soonerthan he should have dared hope, made his young blood stir with ecstasyeven though he knew it was wrong.
"Wealth shall be no barrier between us, Daisy," he cried. "What is allthe wealth in the world compared to love? Do not say that again. Loveoutweighs everything. Even though you bid me go away and forget you,Daisy, I could not do it. I can not live without you."
"Do you really love me so much in so short a time?" she asked,blushingly.
"My love can not be measured by the length of time I have known you,"he answered, eagerly. "Why, Daisy, the strongest and deepest love menhave ever felt have come to them suddenly, without warning."
The glamour of love was upon him; he could see no faults in prettylittle artless Daisy. True, she had not been educated abroad likePluma, but that did not matter; such a lovely rosebud mouth was madefor kisses, not grammar.
Rex stood in suspense beside her, eagerly watching the conflict goingon in the girl's heart.
"Don't refuse me, Daisy," he cried, "give me the right to protect youforever from the cold world; let us be married to-night. We will keepit a secret if you say so. You must--you _must_, Daisy, for I can notgive you up."
Rex was so eager, so earnest, so thoroughly the impassioned lover! Hishands were clinging to her own, his dark, handsome face drooped nearhers, his pleading eyes searching her very soul.
Daisy was young, romantic, and impressible; a thousand thoughts rushedthrough her brain; it would be so nice to have a young husband to loveher and care for her like Rex, so handsome and so kind; then, too, shewould have plenty of dresses, as fine as Pluma wore, all lace andpuffs; she might have a carriage and ponies, too; and when she rolledby the little cottage, Septima, who had always been so cruel to her,would courtesy to _her_, as she did when Pluma, the haughty youngheiress, passed.
The peachy bloom on her cheeks deepened; with Daisy's thoughtlessclinging nature, her craving for love and protection, her implicitfaith in Rex, who had protected her so nobly at the fete--it is not tobe wondered Rex won the day.
Shyly Daisy raised her blue eyes to his face--and he read a shy, sweetconsent that thrilled his very soul.
"You shall never regret this hour, my darling," he cried, then in thesoft silvery twilight he took her to his heart and kissed herrapturously.
His mother's bitter anger, so sure to follow--the cold, haughtymother, who never forgot or forgave an injury, and his little sisterBirdie's sorrow were at that moment quite forgotten--even if they hadbeen remembered they would have weighed as naught compared with hislovely little Daisy with the golden hair and eyes of blue looking upat him so trustingly.
Daisy never forgot that walk through the sweet pink clover to thelittle chapel on the banks of the lonely river. The crickets chirpedin the long green grass, and the breeze swayed the branches of thetall leafy trees, rocking the little birds in their nests.
A sudden, swift, terrified look crept up into Daisy's face as theyentered the dim shadowy parlor. Rex took her trembling chilled handsin his own; if he had not, at that moment, Daisy would have fled fromthe room.
"Only a little courage, Daisy," he whispered, "then a life ofhappiness."
Then as if in a dream she stood quite still by his side, while thefatal ceremony went on; in a confused murmur she heard the questionsand responses of her lover, and answered the questions put to her;then Rex turned to her with a smile and a kiss.
Poor little thoughtless Daisy--it was done--in a moment she had sownthe seeds from which was to spring up a harvest of woe so terriblethat her wildest imagination could not have painted it.
"Are we really married, Rex?" she whispered, as he led her out againinto the starlight; "it seems so much like a dream."
He bent his handsome head and kissed his pretty child-bride. Daisydrew back with a startled cry--his lips were as cold as ice.
"Yes, you are my very own now," he whispered. "No one shall ever havethe right to scold you again; you are mine now, Daisy, but we mustkeep it a secret from every one for awhile, darling. You will do thisfor my sake, won't you, Daisy?" he asked. "I am rich, as far as theworld knows, but it was left to me under peculiar conditions. I--I--donot like to tell you what those conditions were, Daisy."
"Please tell me, Rex," she said, timidly; "you know I amyour--your--wife--now."
Daisy blushed so prettily as she spoke. Rex could not refrain fromcatching her up in his arms and kissing her.
"You _shall_ know, my darling," he cried. "The conditions were Ishould marry the bride whom my mother selected for me. I was as muchstartled as you will be, Daisy, when you hear who it was--PlumaHurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall."
"But you can not marry her now, Rex," whispered the little child-bride,nestling closer in his embrace.
"No; nor I would not if I could. I love you the best, my pretty wildflower. I would not exchange you, sweet, for all the world. I haveonly told you this so you will see why it is necessary to keep ourmarriage a secret--for the present, at least."
Daisy readily consented.
"You are very wise, Rex," she said. "I will do just as you tell me."
By this time they had reached Daisy's home.
"I will meet you to-morrow at the magnolia-tree, where first I foundmy little wood-nymph, as I shall always call you. Then we can talkmatters over better. You will be sure to come while the dew sparkleson your pretty namesakes?" he asked, eagerly.
Before she had time to answer the cottage door opened and Septimaappeared in the door-way. Rex was obliged to content himself withsnatching a hasty kiss from the rosy lips. The next moment he wasalone.
He walked slowly back through the tangled brushwood--not toWhitestone Hall, but to an adjoining hostelry--feeling as though hewere in a new world. True, it _was_ hard to be separated from hislittle child-bride. But Rex had a clever brain; he meant to thinkof some plan out of the present difficulty. His face flushed andpaled as he thought of his new position; it seemed to him everyone must certainly read in his face he was a young husband.
Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the bro
ad gravel path to the littlecottage, wondering if it were a dream.
"Well!" said Septima, sharply, "this is a pretty time of night to comedancing home, leaving me all alone with the baking! If I hadn't myhands full of dough I'd give your ears a sound boxing! I'll see you'renever out after dark again, I'll warrant."
For a moment Daisy's blue eyes blazed, giving way to a roguish smile.
"I wonder what she would say if she knew I was Daisy Brooks no longer,but Mrs. Rex Lyon?" she thought, untying the blue ribbons of her hat.And she laughed outright as she thought how amazed Septima would look;and the laugh sounded like the ripple of a mountain brook.
"Now, Aunt Seppy," coaxed Daisy, slipping up behind her and flingingher plump little arms around the irate spinster's neck, "please don'tbe cross. Indeed I was very particularly detained."
Stptima shook off the clinging arms angrily.
"You can't coax _me_ into upholding you with your soft, purring ways.I'm not Brother John, to be hoodwinked so easily. Detained! A likelystory!"
"No," laughed Daisy; "but you are dear old Uncle John's sister, and Icould love you for that, if for nothing else. But I really wasdetained, though. Where's Uncle John?"
"He's gone to the Hall after you, I reckon. I told him he had betterstop at home--you were like a bad penny, sure to find your way back."
A sudden terror blanched Daisy's face.
"When did he go, Aunt Seppy?" she asked, her heart throbbing so loudlyshe was sure Septima would hear it.
"An hour or more ago."
Daisy hastily picked up her hat again.
"Where are you going?" demanded Septima, sharply.
"I--I--am going to meet Uncle John. Please don't stop me," she cried,darting with the speed of a young gazelle past the hand that wasstretched out to stay her mad flight. "I--I--must go!"