est and most
graceful of courtesies as she raised to his a face he never forgot.
Involuntarily he raised his cap again in homage to her youth, and her
shy sweet beauty.

"No; I thank you, sir, I have not far to carry the basket," she
replied, in a voice sweet as the chiming of silver bells--a voice that
thrilled him, he could not tell why.

A sudden desire possessed Rex to know who she was and from whence she
came.

"Do you live at the Hall?" he asked.

"No," she replied, "I am Daisy Brooks, the overseer's niece."

"Daisy Brooks," said Rex, musingly. "What a pretty name! how well it
suits you!"

He watched the crimson blushes that dyed her fair young face--she
never once raised her dark-blue eyes to his. The more Rex looked at
her the more he admired this coy, bewitching, pretty little maiden.
She made a fair picture under the boughs of the magnolia-tree, thick
with odorous pink-and-white tinted blossoms, the sunbeams falling on
her golden hair.

The sunshine or the gentle southern wind brought Rex no warning he was
forging the first links of a dreadful tragedy. He thought only of the
shy blushing beauty and coy grace of the young girl--he never dreamed
of the hour when he should look back to that moment, wondering at his
own blind folly, with a curse on his lips.

Again from over the trees came the sound of the great bell from the
Hall.

"It is eight o'clock," cried Daisy, in alarm. "Miss Pluma will be so
angry with me."

"Angry!" said Rex; "angry with you! For what?"

"She is waiting for the mull dresses," replied Daisy.

It was a strange idea to him that any one should dare be angry with
this pretty gentle Daisy.

"You will at least permit me to carry your basket as far as the gate,"
he said, shouldering her burden without waiting for a reply. Daisy had
no choice but to follow him. "There," said Rex, setting the basket
down by the plantation gate, which they had reached all too soon, "you
must go, I suppose. It seems hard to leave the bright sunshine to go
indoors."

"I--I shall soon return," said Daisy, with innocent frankness.

"Shall you?" cried Rex. "Will you return home by the same path?"

"Yes," she replied, "if Miss Pluma does not need me."

"Good-bye, Daisy," he said. "I shall see you again."

He held out his hand and her little fingers trembled and fluttered in
his clasp. Daisy looked so happy yet so frightened, so charming yet so
shy, Rex hardly knew how to define the feeling that s