CHAPTER VI.
Under the magnolia-tree, among the pink clover, Rex Lyon paceduneasily to and fro, wondering what could have happened to detainDaisy. He was very nervous, feverish, and impatient, as he watched thesun rising higher and higher in the blue heavens, and glanced at hiswatch for the fifth time in the space of a minute.
"Pshaw!" he muttered, whisking off the tops of the buttercups near himwith his ebony walking-stick. "I am not myself at all. I am growing asnervous as a woman. I think I'll read little sister Birdie's letterover again to occupy my mind until my sweet little Daisy comes."
He sighed and smiled in one breath, as he threw himself down at fulllength on the green grass under the trees. Taking from his pocket alittle square white envelope, addressed in a childish hand to "Mr.Rexford Lyon, Allendale, West Virginia, Care of Miss Pluma." Rexlaughed aloud, until the tears started to his eyes, as they fell onthe words "_Care of Miss Pluma_," heavily underlined in the lowercorner.
"That is just like careless little romping Birdie," he mused. "Shesupposes, because _she_ knows who _Miss Pluma_ is, every one else mustcertainly be aware of the same fact."
He spread out the letter on his knee, trying hard to while away timein perusing its pages.
Rex looked so fresh and cool and handsome in his white linen suit,lying there under the shady trees that summer morning, his dark curlsresting on his white hand, and a smile lighting up his pleasant face,it is not to be wondered at he was just the kind of young fellow towin the love of young romantic girls like Daisy and Pluma--the haughtyyoung heiress.
Slowly Rex read the letter through to the end. The morning stagewhirled rapidly past him on its way to meet the early train. Yet, allunconscious that it bore away from him his treasure, he never onceglanced up from the letter he was reading.
Again Rex laughed aloud as he glanced it over, reading as follows:
"DEAR BROTHER REX,--We received the letter you wrote, and the picture you sent with it, and my heart has been so heavy ever since that I could not write to you because big tears would fall on the page and blot it. Now, dear old Brother Rex, don't be angry at what your little Birdie is going to say. Mamma says you are going to marry and bring home a wife, and she showed me her picture, and said you was very much in love with her, and I must be so too. But I can't fall in love with her, Brother Rex; indeed, I've tried very hard and I can't; don't tell anybody, but I'm awfully afraid I sha'n't like her one bit. She looks stylish, and her name Pluma sounds real stylish too, but she don't look kind. I thought, perhaps, if I told you I did not like her you might give her up and come home. I forgot to tell you the blue room and the room across the hall is being fixed up for you just lovely, and I am to have your old one.
"P.S.--And we received a letter from Mr. Lester Stanwick, too. He says he will be passing through here soon and wishes to call. When are you coming home, Rex? Don't bring any one with you.
"Your loving little sister, "BIRDIE."
"There's no fear of my bringing Pluma home now," he laughed, whistlinga snatch of "The Pages' Chorus." "Birdie won't have anything to fearon that score. I do wish mother hadn't set my heart on my marryingPluma. Parents make a mistake in choosing whom their children shallmarry and whom they shall not. Love goes where it is sent."
He looked at his watch again.
"By George!" he muttered, turning very pale upon seeing another hourhad slipped away, "I can not stand this a minute longer. I _must_ seewhat has happened to Daisy."
With a nameless fear clutching at his heart--a dark, shadowyfear--like the premonition of coming evil, Rex made his way rapidlythrough the tangled underbrush, cutting across lots to John Brooks'cottage.
He had determined to call for Daisy upon some pretext. It was rather abold undertaking and might cause comment, still Rex was reckless ofall consequences; he _must_ see Daisy at all hazards; and when Rexmade up his mind to do anything he usually succeeded; he was as daringand courageous as he was reckless and handsome.
Once, twice, thrice he knocked, receiving no answer to his summons.
"That's strange," he mused, "exceedingly strange."
Hardly knowing what prompted him to do it, Rex turned the knob; ityielded to the touch, swinging slowly back on its creaking hinges.
"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, gazing wildly about him and as pale asdeath, "Daisy is gone and the cottage is empty!"
He leaned against the door-way, putting his hand to his brow like onewho had received a heavy blow; and the bare walls seemed to take upthe cry and echo, mockingly, "Gone!"
The blow was so sudden and unexpected he was completely bewildered;his brain was in a whirl.
He saw a laborer crossing the cotton-fields and called to him.
"I was looking for John Brooks," said Rex. "I find the cottage empty.Can you tell me where they have gone?"
"Gone!" echoed the man, surprisedly. "I don't understand it; I waspassing the door a few hours since, just as the stage drove off withJohn Brooks and Daisy. 'Good-bye, neighbor,' he called out to me, 'Iam off on an extended business trip. You must bring your wife over tosee Septima; she will be lonely, I'll warrant.' There was no sign ofhim moving then. I--I don't understand it."
"You say he took Daisy with him," asked Rex, with painful eagerness."Can you tell me where they went?"
The man shook his head and passed on. Rex was more mystified thanever.
"What can it all mean?" he asked himself. "Surely," he cried,"Daisy--dear little innocent blue-eyed Daisy--could not have meant todeceive me; yet why has she not told me?"
The hot blood mounted to his temples. Perhaps Daisy regretted havingmarried him and had fled from him. The thought was so bitter it almosttook his breath away. Rex loved her so madly, so passionately, soblindly, he vowed to himself he would search heaven and earth to findher. And in that terrible hour the young husband tasted the firstdraught of the cup of bitterness which he was to drain to the verydregs.
Poor Rex! he little knew this was but the first stroke of PlumaHurlhurst's fatal revenge--to remove her rival from her path that shemight win him back to his old allegiance.
* * * * *
Early that morning there had been great bustle and stir in the Brooks'cottage. In vain Daisy had attempted to steal quietly away into herown little room and write a hasty line to Rex, which, if all othermeans failed her, she could send to him by one of the men employed inthe fields, begging him to come to her at once. Septima would notleave her to herself for a single instant. Even her writing-desk,which had stood on the bureau in the corner for years, was gone. Poorlittle Daisy cried out to herself--fate was against her.
"I should like to say good-bye to the old familiar scenes, Septima,"she said, making a desperate effort to meet Rex by some means. "Ishould like to see the old magnolia-tree down in the glade just oncebefore I go."
"Nonsense," replied Septima, sharply, a malicious smile hovering aboutthe corners of her mouth. "I guess the trees and the flowers won'twither and die of grief if you don't bid them good-bye; it's too latenow, anyhow. See, here is the stage coming already," she cried,glancing out of the window, "and here comes John with his valise andumbrella. Make haste, Daisy; where's your gloves and satchel?"
For one brief instant Daisy stood irresolute; if she had only daredcry out to them "I am a bride; it is cruel to send me away from Rex,"what a world of misery might have been spared her! but her lips weresealed.
"Well, well," cried John Brooks, hurriedly entering the room; "notready yet, little girlie? We must be off at once or we will miss thetrain."
In vain Daisy protested brokenly she could not go, and the agony inthose blue uplifted eyes would have touched a heart of stone. StillJohn Brooks believed it would be a sin to comply with her request. Goto school she must, for Heaven had intended a cultured mind shouldaccompany so beautiful a face. Half lifting, half carrying the slightfigure in his powerful
arms, Daisy was borne, half fainting andsobbing as though her heart would break, to the vehicle which stood inwaiting.
On through the fragrant stillness of that sunshiny summer morning thejolting stage rolled rapidly on its way, crossing the little bridgewhere she had lingered only the night before with Rex, her husband;they would soon reach the alder bushes that skirted the pool. The nextbend in the road would bring her in sight of the magnolia-tree whereRex would be awaiting her.
Ah, thank Heaven, it was not too late! she could fling out her arms,and cry out: "Rex, my love, my darling, they are bearing me from you!Save me, Rex, my darling, save me!"
John Brooks sat quietly by her side silently wondering what had comeover little Daisy--sweet, impulsive little Daisy--in a single night."She is only a child," he muttered to himself, "full of whims andcaprices; crying her eyes out last week because she could not go offto school, and now crying because she's got to go."
Swiftly the stage rolled down the green sloping hill-side; in anothermoment it had reached the alder bushes and gained the curve of theroad, and she saw Rex lying on the green grass waiting for her. Thesunlight drifting through the magnolia blossoms fell upon hishandsome, upturned, smiling face and the dark curls pushed back fromhis white forehead. "Rex! Rex!" she cried, wringing her white hands,but the words died away on her white lips, making no sound. Then theworld seemed to close darkly around her, and poor little Daisy, theunhappy girl-bride, fell back in the coach in a deadly swoon.