Daisy Brooks Part 2

Still Daisy slept on, utterly unconscious of the handsome brown eyes that were regarding her so admiringly.

"I have often heard of fairies, but this is the first time I have ever caught one napping under the trees. I wonder who she is anyhow? Surely she can not be some drudging farmer's daughter with a form and face like that?" he mused, suspiciously eying the basket of freshly laundered laces against which the flushed cheeks and waving golden hair rested.

Just then his ludicrous position struck him forcibly.

"Come, Towser," he said, "it would never do for you and me to be caught staring at this pretty wood-nymph so rudely, if she should by chance awaken just now."

Tightening the strap of his game-bag over his shoulder, and readjusting his velvet cap jauntily over his brown curls, Rex was about to resume his journey in the direction of Whitestone Hall, when the sound of rapidly approaching carriage-wheels fell upon his ears.

Realizing his awkward position, Rex knew the wisest course he could possibly pursue would be to screen himself behind the magnolia branches until the vehicle should pa.s.s. The next instant a pair of prancing ponies, attached to a basket phaeton, in which sat a young girl, who held them well in check, dashed rapidly up the road. Rex could scarcely repress an exclamation of surprise as he saw the occupant was his young hostess, Pluma Hurlhurst of Whitestone Hall.

She drew rein directly in front of the sleeping girl, and Rex Lyon never forgot, to his dying day, the discordant laugh that broke from her red lips--a laugh which caused poor Daisy to start from her slumber in wild alarm, scattering the snowy contents of the basket in all directions.

For a single instant their eyes met--these two girls, whose lives were to cross each other so strangely--poor Daisy, like a frightened bird, as she guessed intuitively at the ident.i.ty of the other; Pluma, haughty, derisive, and scornfully mocking.

"You are the person whom Miss Brooks sent to Whitestone Hall with my mull dresses some three hours since, I presume. May I ask what detained you?"

Poor Daisy was quite crestfallen; great tear-drops trembled on her long lashes. How could she answer? She had fallen asleep, wooed by the lulling breeze and the suns.h.i.+ne.

"The basket was so heavy," she answered, timidly, "and I--I--sat down to rest a few moments, and--"

"Further explanation is quite unnecessary," retorted Pluma, sharply, gathering up the reins. "See that you have those things at the Hall within ten minutes; not an instant later."

Touching the prancing ponies with her ivory-handled whip, the haughty young heiress whirled leisurely down the road, leaving Daisy, with flushed face and tear-dimmed eyes, gazing after her.

"Oh, dear, I wish I had never been born," she sobbed, flinging herself down on her knees, and burying her face in the long, cool gra.s.s. "No one ever speaks a kind word to me but poor old Uncle John, and even he dare not be kind when Aunt Septima is near. She might have taken this heavy basket in her carriage," sighed Daisy, bravely lifting the heavy burden in her delicate arms.

"That is just what I think," muttered Rex Lyon from his place of concealment, savagely biting his lip.

In another moment he was by her side.

"Pardon me," he said, deferentially raising his cap from his glossy curls, "that basket is too heavy for your slender arms. Allow me to a.s.sist you."

In a moment the young girl stood up, and made the prettiest 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 suns.h.i.+ne 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 blus.h.i.+ng 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 suns.h.i.+ne 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 stirred in his heart.

He watched the graceful, fairy figure as Daisy tripped away--instead of thinking he had done a very foolish thing that bright morning. Rex lighted a cigar and fell to dreaming of sweet little Daisy Brooks, and wondering how he should pa.s.s the time until he should see her again.

While Daisy almost flew up the broad gravel path to the house, the heavy burden she bore seemed light as a feather--no thought that she had been imprudent ever entered her mind.

There was no one to warn her of the peril which lay in the witching depths of the handsome stranger's glances.

All her young life she had dreamed of the hero who would one day come to her, just such a dream as all youthful maidens experience--an idol they enshrine in their innermost heart, and wors.h.i.+p in secret, never dreaming of a cold, dark time when the idol may lie shattered in ruins at their feet. How little knew gentle Daisy Brooks of the fatal love which would drag her down to her doom!

CHAPTER III.

In an elegant boudoir, all crimson and gold, some hours later, sat Pluma Hurlhurst, reclining negligently on a satin divan, toying idly with a volume which lay in her lap. She tossed the book aside with a yawn, turning her superb dark eyes on the little figure bending over the rich trailing silks which were to adorn her own fair beauty on the coming evening.

"So you think you would like to attend the lawn fete to-night, Daisy?"

she asked, patronizingly.

Daisy glanced up with a startled blush,

"Oh, I should like it so much, Miss Pluma," she answered, hesitatingly, "if I only could!"

"I think I shall gratify you," said Pluma, carelessly. "You have made yourself very valuable to me. I like the artistic manner you have twined these roses in my hair; the effect is quite picturesque." She glanced satisfiedly at her own magnificent reflection in the cheval-gla.s.s opposite. t.i.tian alone could have reproduced those rich, marvelous colors--that perfect, queenly beauty. He would have painted the picture, and the world would have raved about its beauty.

The dark ma.s.ses of raven-black hair; the proud, haughty face, with its warm southern tints; the dusky eyes, lighted with fire and pa.s.sion, and the red, curved lips. "I wish particularly to look my very best to-night, Daisy," she said; "that is why I wish you to remain. You can arrange those sprays of white heath in my hair superbly. Then you shall attend the fete, Daisy. Remember, you are not expected to take part in it; you must sit in some secluded nook where you will be quite un.o.bserved."