ant curling smoke
that rose up lazily from the chimneys of Rex's home, and upon the
brilliant sunshine that lighted up the eastern windows with a blaze of
glory--as if there was no such thing as death or sorrow within those
palatial walls--when Rex's answer was received.

"It is from Rex!" cried Gertie, all in a flutter. "Shall I read it
aloud, mamma?" she asked, glancing furtively at Daisy, who stood at
the window, her pale, death-like face half buried in the lace
curtains.

"It is certainly not a personal letter," said Bess, maliciously
glancing at the superscription. "Don't you see it is addressed to
'Mrs. Glenn and daughters.'"

"In a time like that people don't think much of letters," commented
Mrs. Glenn, apologetically. "Read the letter aloud, of course, my
dear."

It read:

"DEAR LADIES,--I thank you more than I can express for your kind
sympathy in my present sad bereavement. I would gladly have
accepted your offer of bringing my dear little orphan sister to
you, had I not received a telegram this morning from Miss Pluma
Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall, West Virginia, announcing her
intention of coming on at once, accompanied by Mrs. Corliss, to
take charge of little Birdie.

"Again thanking you for the courtesy and kindness shown me, I am

"Yours very truly,
"REXFORD LYON."

There was a low, gasping, piteous cry; and the little figure at the
window slipped down among the soft, billowy curtains in a deadly
swoon; but the three, so deeply engrossed in discussing the contents
of the note, did not notice it. At last Daisy opened her eyes, and the
blue eyes were dazed with pain. She could hear them coupling the names
of Rex and Pluma Hurlhurst. Rex--her husband!

Daisy was blind and stupefied. She groped rather than walked from the
library--away from the three, who scarcely noticed her absence.

Who cared that her heart was broken? Who cared that the cruel stab had
gone home to her tender, bleeding heart; that the sweet young face was
whiter than the petals of the star-bells tossing their white plumes
against the casement?

Slowly, blindly, with one hand grasping the balusters, she went up the
broad staircase to her own room.

She tried to think of everything on the way except the one thing that
had taken place. She thought of the story she had read, of a girl who
was slain by having a dagger p