o his feet with a deep-drawn sigh, his teeth shut close, his
heart beating with great strangling throbs of pain. Strong and brave
as Rex was, this trouble was almost more than he could bear.

"Where are you going, Rex?" said Pluma, laying a detaining hand upon
his arm.

"I am going to Elmwood," he cried, bitterly, "to prove this accusation
is a cruel falsehood. Daisy has no lover; she is as sweet and pure as
Heaven itself! I was mad to doubt her for a single instant."

"Judge for yourself, Rex--seeing is believing," said Pluma,
maliciously, a smoldering vengeance burning in her flashing eyes, and
a cold, cruel smile flitting across her face, while she murmured under
her breath: "Go, fond, foolish lover; your fool's paradise will be
rudely shattered--ay, your hopes crushed worse than mine are now, for
your lips can not wear a smile like mine when your heart is breaking.
Good-bye, Rex," she said, "and remember, in the hour when sorrow
strikes you keenest, turn to me; my friendship is true, and shall
never fail you."

Rex bowed coldly and turned away; his heart was too sick for empty
words, and the heavy-hearted young man, who slowly walked down the
graveled path away from Whitestone Hall in the moonlight, was as
little like the gay, handsome Rex of one short week ago as could well
be imagined.

There was the scent of roses and honeysuckles in the soft wind; and
some sweet-voiced bird awakened from sleep, and fancying it was day,
swung to and fro amid the green foliage, filling the night with
melody. The pitying stars shone down upon him from the moonlighted
heavens; but the still, solemn beauty of the night was lost upon Rex.
He regretted--oh! so bitterly--that he had parted from his sweet
little girl-bride, fearing his mother's scornful anger, or through a
sense of mistaken duty.

"Had they but known little Daisy is my wife, they would have known how
impossible was their accusation that she was with Lester Stanwick."

He shuddered at the very thought of such a possibility.

The thought of Daisy, his little girl-bride, being sent to school
amused him.

"Poor little robin!" he murmured. "No wonder she flew from her bondage
when she found the cage-door open! How pleased the little gypsy will
be to see me!" he mused. "I will clasp the dear little runaway in my
arms, and never let her leave me again! Mother could not help loving
my little Daisy if she were once to see her, and sister Birdie would
take to her at on