e that he should learn to love her?

She told herself that she should take courage, that she would
persevere, that her great love must in time prevail.

"I must never let him find me dull or unhappy," she thought. "I must
carefully hide all traces of pique or annoyance."

She would do her best to entertain him, and make it the study of her
life to win his love.

She watched the stars until they faded from the skies, then buried her
face in her pillow, falling into an uneasy slumber, through which a
beautiful, flower-like, girlish face floated, and a slight, delicate
form knelt at her feet holding her arms out imploringly, sobbing out:

"Do not take him from me--he is my world--I love him!"

And with a heart racked by terrible jealousy, Pluma turned uneasily on
her pillow and opened her eyes. The stars were still glimmering in the
moonlighted sky.

"Is the face of Daisy Brooks ever to haunt me thus?" she cried out,
impatiently. "How was I to know she was to die?" she muttered,
excitedly. "I simply meant to have Stanwick abduct her from the
seminary that Rex might believe him her lover and turn to me for
sympathy. I will not think of it," she cried; "I am not one to flinch
from a course of action I have marked out for myself, no matter what
the consequences may be, if I only gain Rex's love."

And Pluma, the bride soon to be, turned her flushed face again to the
wall to dream again of Daisy Brooks.

She little dreamed Rex, too, was watching the stars, as wakeful as
she, thinking of the past.

Then he prayed Heaven to help him, so that no unworthy thought should
enter his mind. After that he slept, and one of the most painful days
of his life was ended.

The days at Whitestone Hall flew by on rapid wings in a round of
gayety. The Hall was crowded with young folks, who were to remain
until after the marriage. Dinner parties were followed by May-pole
dances out on the green lawns, and by charades and balls in the
evening. The old Hall had never echoed with such frolicsome mirth
before. Rex plunged into the excitement with strange zest. No one
guessed that beneath his winning, careless smile his heart was almost
breaking.

One morning Pluma was standing alone on the vine-covered terrace,
waiting for Rex, who had gone out to try a beautiful spirited horse
that had just been added to the stables of Whitestone Hall. She
noticed he had taken the unfrequented road the magnolia-trees shaded.
That fact bore no signif