u may retire to your room."

Still Daisy rocked herself to and fro on her knees at her feet.
Suddenly a daring thought occurred to her. The letter which had caused
her such bitter woe lay on the table almost within her very grasp--the
letter, every line of which breathed of her pure, sacred love for
Rex--her Rex--whom she dared not even claim. She could imagine madame
commenting upon every word and sentence, ridiculing those tender
expressions which had been such rapturous joy to her hungry little
heart as she had penned them. And, last of all, and far the most
bitter thought, how dear old John Brooks would turn his honest eyes
upon her tell-tale face, demanding to know what the secret was--the
secret which she had promised her young husband she would not reveal,
come what would. If his face should grow white and stern, and those
lips, which had blessed, praised, and petted, but never scolded
her--if those lips should curse her, she would die then and there at
his feet. In an instant she had resolved upon a wild, hazardous plan.
Quick as a flash of lightning Daisy sprung to her feet and tore the
coveted letter from madame's detaining grasp; the door stood open, and
with the fleetness of a hunted deer she flew down the corridor, never
stopping for breath until she had gained the very water's edge.

Mme. Whitney gave a loud shriek and actually fainted, and the
attendant, who hurried to the scene, caught but a glimpse of a white,
terrified, beautiful face, and a cloud of flying golden hair. No one
in that establishment ever gazed upon the face of Daisy Brooks again!

CHAPTER IX.

"Where is Miss Brooks?" cried Mme. Whitney, excitedly, upon opening
her eyes. "Jenkins," she cried, motioning to the attendant who stood
nearest her, "see that Miss Brooks is detained in her own room under
lock and key until I am at liberty to attend to her case."

The servants looked at one another in blank amazement. No one dared
tell her Daisy had fled.

The torn envelope, which Daisy had neglected to gain possession of,
lay at her feet.

With a curious smile Mme. Whitney smoothed it out carefully, and
placed it carefully away in her private desk.

"Rex Lyon," she mused, knitting her brow. "Ah, yes, that was the name,
I believe. He must certainly be the one. Daisy Brooks shall suffer
keenly for this outrage," cried the madame, grinding her teeth with
impotent rage. "I shall drag her pride down to the very dust beneath
my feet.