When Daisy Brooks opened her eyes, she found herself lying on a white
bed, and in a strange apartment which she never remembered having seen
before. For one brief instant she quite imagined the terrible ordeal
through which she had passed was but a dream. Then it all came back to
her with cruel distinctness.
"Where am I?" she cried, struggling up to a sitting posture, and
putting back the tangled golden hair from her face. "How came I here?
Who saved me from the terrible dark water?"
"I did," answered a young man, rising from his seat by the open
window. "I saved your life at the risk of my own. Look up into my
face, Daisy, and see if you do not remember me."
She lifted her blue eyes to the dark, handsome, smiling face before
her. Yes, she had seen that face before, but she could not remember
where.
He laughed, disclosing his handsome white teeth.
"You can not guess, eh?" he said. "Then it is certainly evident I did
not make much of an impression upon you. I am disappointed. I will not
keep you in suspense, however. We met at Whitestone Hall, on the night
of the lawn fête, and my name is Lester Stanwick."
Ah, she _did_ remember him, standing beneath a waving palm-tree, his
bold, dark eyes following her every motion, while she was waltzing
with Rex.
He saw the flash of recognition in her eyes, and the blush that
mantled her fair, sweet face.
"I am very grateful to you, sir, for saving me. But won't you take me
home, please? I don't want to go back to Madame Whitney's."
"Of course not," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, "when you left
it in such a remarkable manner as running away."
"How did you know I ran away?" asked Daisy, flushing hotly.
"Madame Whitney has advertised for you," he responded, promptly.
Although he well knew what he uttered was a deliberate falsehood, he
merely guessed the little wild bird had grown weary of the restraint,
and had flown away.
"Did she do that?" asked Daisy, thoroughly alarmed, her great blue
eyes dilating with fear. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, what shall I do? I do not
want to go back. I would sooner die first."
"There is no occasion for you to do either," he replied. "You are in
good hands. Stay here until the storm blows over. In all probability
the madame has sent detectives out in all directions searching for
you."
Daisy was so young, so unsuspecting, so artless, and knew so little of
the ways of the world or its intriguing people that she quite believed
his assertion.
"Oh, what shall I do?" she sobbed, covering her face with her hands.
"Oh, I _must_ go back to Uncle John, and--to--to--"
Stanwick had no idea she meant Rex. He took it for granted she meant
John Brooks and Septima.
"It is quite uncertain when John Brooks returns to Allendale," he
said; "and I suppose you are aware his sister has also left the
place--gone, no one knows whither--the Brookses' cottage on the brow
of the hill stands empty."
"Gone!" cried Daisy, catching her breath swift and hard, "did you say,
sir? Aunt Septima has gone--no one lives in the cottage?" Poor Daisy
quite believed she was losing her senses.
"Yes," said Stanwick, smothering a low, malicious laugh, "that is what
I said; but I am quite surprised that it is news to you. You are all
alone in the world, you see. Of course you could not go back to
Allendale. You can do no better than stay in your present quarters for
at least a week or so, until you fully recover from your mad frolic on
the water and gain a little strength."
* * * * *
"Where am I?" asked Daisy, "and how did I get here? and who lives
here?"
"One question at a time, if you please," laughed Stanwick, gazing
admiringly at the beautiful, questioning, eager face.
"I suppose," he began, with provoking coolness, "you have been filling
that little head of yours with romantic ideas of running away from
school, and sailing far out to sea, and straight into the arms of some
handsome hero who would save you, and would carry you off to some
castle, and turn out to be a prince in disguise! That's the way they
usually turn out, isn't it? But you found the theory did not work very
well in real life, and your little romance came near costing you your
life--eh, Miss Daisy? As for the second question, I rescued you, just
in the nick of time, by jumping into the turbulent waves and bearing
you out of harm's way and keeping that little romantic head of yours
above water until the barge could be stopped, and you were then
brought on board. I recognized you at once," he continued; "and to
prevent suspicion and inquiry, which would have been sure to follow, I
claimed you--as my wife! Do not be alarmed," he said, as a sharp,
horrified cry rose to the red lips. "I simply did that in order to
protect you from being returned at once in bitter disgrace to Madame
Whitney's. Not knowing what else to do with you when the boat landed,
I brought you here, and here you have been ever since, quite
unconscious up to date."
"Was it last night you brought me here?" asked Daisy.
"You are not good at guessing. You have been here two nights and two
days."
"But who lives here?" persisted Daisy. "Is this your house?"
"Oh, dear, no," laughed Stanwick. "Upon my honor, you are not very
complimentary to my taste," he said, glancing around the meagerly
furnished apartment. "As near as I can understand it, the house is
occupied by three grim old maids. Each looks to be the twin of the
other. This was the first shelter I could find, and I had carried you
all the way from the boat in my arms, and under the circumstances,
after much consulting, they at last agreed to allow you to remain
here. Now you have the whole story in a nutshell."
"Why did they not send to Septima to come to me?" she asked
presently.
"Because they thought you were with your best protector--your
husband."
"Did you tell them that here, too?" asked Daisy, growing white and ill
with a dizzy horror. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, send for them at once, and
tell them it is not so, or I must!" she added, desperately.
"You must do nothing of the kind, you silly child. Do you suppose they
would have sheltered you for a single instant if they had not believed
you were my wife? You do not know the ways of the world. Believe me,
it was the only course I could pursue, in that awkward dilemma,
without bringing disgrace and detection upon you."
As if in answer to the question that was trembling upon Daisy's lips,
he continued:
"I am stopping at a boarding-place some little distance from here.
This is not Baltimore, but a little station some sixty miles from
there. When you are well and strong you may go where you please,
although I frankly own the situation is by no means an unpleasant one
for me. I would be willing to stay here always--with you."
"Sir!" cried Daisy, flushing as red as the climbing roses against the
window, her blue eyes blazing up with sudden fire, "do you mean to
insult me?"
"By no means," responded Lester Stanwick, eagerly. "Indeed, I respect
and honor you too much for that. Why, I risked my life to save yours,
and shielded your honor with my name. Had I been your husband in very
truth I could not have done more."
Daisy covered her face with her hands.
"I thank you very much for saving me," she sobbed, "but won't you
please go away now and leave me to myself?"
_Roué_ and villain as Lester Stanwick was, he could not help feeling
touched by the innocence and beauty of little Daisy, and from that
instant he loved her with a wild, absorbing, passionate love, and he
made a vow, then and there, that he would win her.
From their boyhood up Rex and Lester had been rivals. At college Rex
had carried off the honors with flying colors. Pluma Hurlhurst, the
wealthy heiress, had chosen Rex in preference to himself. He stood
little chance with bright-eyed maidens compared with handsome,
careless, winning Rex Lyon.
Quite unobserved, he had witnessed the meeting between Rex and Daisy
at the fountain, and how tenderly he clasped her in his arms as they
waltzed together in the mellow light, to the delicious strains of the
"Blue Danube," and knowing Rex as well as he did, he knew for the
first time in life Rex's heart was touched.
"It would be a glorious revenge," Stanwick had muttered to himself,
"if I could win her from him." Then a sordid motive of revenge alone
prompted him--now he was beginning to experience the sweet thrillings
of awakened love himself. Yes, he had learned to love Daisy for her
own sweet self.
He smiled as he thought of the last words Pluma Hurlhurst had said to
him: "Revenge is sweet, Lester, when love is turned to bitter hatred.
Help me to drag Rex Lyon's pride as low as he has this night dragged
mine, and you shall have my hand as your reward. My father is an
invalid--he can not live much longer--then you will be master of
Whitestone Hall." As he had walked down the broad gravel path, running
his eye over the vast plantation stretching afar on all sides, like a
field of snow, as the moonlight fell upon the waving cotton, he owned
to himself it was a fair domain well worth the winning.
But as he stood there, gazing silently down upon little Daisy's
face--how strange it was--he would have given up twenty such
inheritances for the hope of making sweet little Daisy Brooks his
wife.
It was well for Daisy Brooks he little dreamed of the great barrier
which lay between them, shutting him out completely from all thoughts
of love in Daisy's romantic heart.