said her brother was soon going away again.

"How could I bear it?" she asked herself, piteously.

It was not in human nature to see the young husband whom she loved so
well drifting so completely away from her and still remain silent. "I
will watch over him from afar; I will be his guardian angel; I must
remain as one dead to him forever," she told herself.

Afar off, over the dancing, moonlighted waters she saw a pleasure-boat
gliding swiftly over the rippling waves. She could hear their merry
laughter and gay, happy voices, and snatches of mirthful songs.
Suddenly the band struck up an old, familiar strain. Poor little Daisy
leaned her head against the iron railing of the porch and listened to
those cruel words--the piece that they played was "Love's Young
Dream."

Love's young dream! Ah! how cruelly hers had ended! She looked up at
the white, fleecy clouds above her, vaguely wondering why the love of
one person made the earth a very paradise, or a wilderness. As the
gay, joyous music floated up to her the words of the poet found echo
in her heart in a passionate appeal:

"No one could tell, for nobody knew,
Why love was made to gladden a few;
And hearts that would forever be true,
Go lone and starved the whole way through,"

Oh, it was such a blessed relief to her to watch that shadow. Rex was
pacing up and down the room now, his arms folded and his head bent on
his breast. Poor, patient little Daisy, watching alone out in the
starlight, was wondering if he was thinking of her.

No thought occurred to her of being discovered there with her arms
clasped around that marble pillar watching so intently the shadow of
that graceful, manly figure pacing to and fro.

No thought occurred to her that a strange event was at that moment
transpiring within those walls, or that something unusual was about to
happen.

How she longed to look upon his face for just one brief moment!
Estrangement had not chilled her trusting love, it had increased it,
rather, tenfold.

Surely it was not wrong to gaze upon that shadow--he was her husband.

In that one moment a wild, bitter thought swept across her heart.

Did Rex regret their marriage because she was poor, friendless, and an
orphan? Would it have been different if she had been the heiress of
Whitestone Hall?

She pitied herself for her utter loneliness. There was no one to whom
she could say one word of all that fill