e world keeps you down there so
long? Come here instantly."

Daisy knew too well the handsome, impatient face and the imperious,
commanding voice.

"Miss Hurlhurst," she called out, piteously, "I must see you for a few
minutes. I shall die if you refuse me. My errand is one of almost life
and death; if you knew how vitally important it was you would not
refuse me," she panted.

Pluma Hurlhurst laughed a little hard laugh that had no music in it.

"What would a hundred lives or deaths matter to me?" she said,
contemptuously. "I would not listen to you ten minutes to-night if I
actually knew it was to save your life," cried the haughty beauty,
stamping her slippered foot impatiently.

"It is for your own sake," pleaded Daisy. "See, I kneel to you, Miss
Hurlhurst. If you would not commit a crime, I implore you by all you
hold sacred, to hear me--grant me but a few brief moments."

"Not an instant," cried Pluma, scornfully; "shut the door, Marie, and
send that person from the house."

"Oh, what shall I do!" cried Daisy, wringing her hands. "I am driven
to the very verge of madness! Heaven pity me--the bitter consequence
must fall upon your own head."

She turned away with a low, bitter cry, as the maid slammed the heavy
oaken door in her face.

"There is no other way for me to do," she told herself, despairingly,
"but to see Rex. I do not know how I am going to live through the
ordeal of entering his presence--listening to his voice--knowing I
bring him such a burden of woe--spoiling his life for the second
time."

She did not hear the door quietly reopen.

"I have heard all that has just passed, young lady," said a kind voice
close beside her. "I am extremely sorry for you--your case seems a
pitiful one. I am sorry my daughter refused to see you; perhaps I can
be of some assistance to you. I am Miss Hurlhurst's father."

CHAPTER XXXVII.

For a moment Daisy stood irresolute. "Follow me into my study, and
tell me your trouble. You say it concerns my daughter. Perhaps I can
advise you."

Ah, yes! he above all others could help her--he was Pluma's father--he
could stop the fatal marriage. She would not be obliged to face Rex.

Without another word Daisy turned and followed him. Although Daisy had
lived the greater portion of her life at John Brooks' cottage on the
Hurlhurst plantation, this was the first time she had ever gazed upon
the face of the recluse master of Whitestone Hall. He had spent tho