Daisy Brooks Part 48

"I found Basil had learned to despise even more fiercely than he had ever loved me.

"He took us abroad, refusing to speak or look upon my face, even though he escorted us. In a fit of desperation I threw myself into the sea, but I was rescued by another vessel. A strong inclination seized me to again visit Whitestone Hall and see what disposition he had made of you. Years had pa.s.sed; you were then a child of five years.

"One terrible stormy night--as bad a night as this one--I made my way to the Hall. It was brilliantly lighted up, just as it is to-night.

"I saw the gate was locked; and through the flashes of lightning I saw a little girl sobbing wildly, flung face downward in the gra.s.s, heedless of the storm.

"I knew you, and called you to me. I questioned you as to why the house was lighted, and learned the truth. Basil Hurlhurst had remarried; he had been abroad with his wife, and to-night he was bringing home his young wife.

"My rage knew no bounds. I commanded you to bring me the key of the gate. You obeyed. That night a little golden-haired child was born at Whitestone Hall, and I knew it would live to divide the honors and wealth of Whitestone Hall with you--my child.

"The thought maddened me. I stole the child from its mother's arms, and fled. I expected to see the papers full of the terrible deed, or to hear you had betrayed me, a stranger, wanting the key of the gate."

"My surprise knew no bounds when I found it was given out the child had died, and was buried with its young mother. I never understood why Basil Hurlhurst did not attempt to recover his child.

"I took the child far from here, placing it in a basket on the river brink, with a note pinned to it saying that I, the mother, had sinned and had sought a watery grave beneath the waves. I screened myself, and watched to see what would become of the child, as I saw a man's form approaching in the distance.

"I fairly caught my breath as he drew near. I saw it was my own husband, whom I had so cruelly deserted years ago--your father, Pluma, who never even knew or dreamed of your existence.

"Carefully he lifted the basket and the sleeping babe. How he came in that locality I do not know. I found, by some strange freak of fate, he had taken the child home to his aunt Taiza, and there the little one remained until the spinster died.

"Again, a few years later, I determined to visit Whitestone Hall, when a startling and unexpected surprise presented itself. Since then I have believed in fate. All unconscious of the strange manner in which these two men's lives had crossed each other, I found Basil Hurlhurst had engaged my own husband, and your father, John Brooks, for his overseer."

Pluma gave a terrible cry, but the woman did not heed her.

"I dared not betray my ident.i.ty then, but fled quickly from Whitestone Hall; for I knew, if all came to light, it would be proved without a doubt you were not the heiress of Whitestone Hall.

"I saw a young girl, blue-eyed and golden-haired, singing like a lark in the fields. One glance at her face, and I knew she was Basil Hurlhurst's stolen child fate had brought directly to her father's home. I questioned her, and she answered she had lived with Taiza Burt, but her name was Daisy Brooks."

"It is a lie--a base, ingenious lie!" shrieked Pluma. "Daisy Brooks the heiress of Whitestone Hall! Even if it were true," she cried, exultingly, "she will never reign here, the mistress of Whitestone Hall. She is dead."

"Not exactly!" cried a ringing voice from the rear; and before the two women could comprehend the situation, the detective sprung through the silken curtains, placing his back firmly against the door. "You have laid a deep scheme, with a cruel vengeance; but your own weapons are turned against you. Bring your daughter forward, Mr. Hurlhurst. Your presence is also needed, Mr. Brooks," he called.

CHAPTER XL.

Not a muscle of Pluma Hurlhurst's face quivered, but the woman uttered a low cry, shrinking close to her side.

"Save me, Pluma!" she gasped. "I did it for your sake!"

Basil Hurlhurst slowly put back the curtain, and stepped into the room, clasping his long-lost daughter to his breast. Daisy's arms were clinging round his neck, and her golden head rested on his shoulder.

She was sobbing hysterically, John Brooks, deeply affected, following after.

Like a stag at bay, the woman's courage seemed to return to her, as she stood face to face after all those years with the husband whom she had so cruelly deceived--and the proud-faced man who stood beside him--whose life she had blighted with the keenest and most cruel blow of all.

Basil Hurlhurst was the first to break the ominous silence.

"It is unnecessary to tell you we have heard all," he said, slowly. "I shall not seek redress for your double crime. Leave this locality at once, or I may repent the leniency of my decision. I hold you guiltless, Pluma," he added, gently. "You are not my child, yet I have not been wanting in kindness toward you. I shall make every provision for your future comfort with your father," he said, indicating John Brooks, who stood pale and trembling at his side.

"Pluma, my child," cried John Brooks, brokenly, extending his arms.

But the scornful laugh that fell from her lips froze the blood in his veins.

"Your child!" she shrieked, mockingly; "do not dare call me that again. What care I for your cotton fields, or for Whitestone Hall?"

she cried, proudly, drawing herself up to her full height. "You have always hated me, Basil Hurlhurst," she cried, turning haughtily toward him. "This is your triumph! Within the next hour I shall be Rex Lyon's wife."

She repeated the words with a clear, ringing laugh, her flaming eyes fairly scorching poor little Daisy's pale, frightened face.

"Do you hear me, Daisy Brooks!" she screamed. "You loved Rex Lyon, and I have won him from you. You can queen it over Whitestone Hall, but I shall not care. I shall be queen of Rex's heart and home! Mine is a glorious revenge!"

She stopped short for want of breath, and Basil Hurlhurst interrupted her.

"I have to inform you you are quite mistaken there," he replied, calmly. "Mr. Rexford Lyon will not marry you to-night, for he is already married to my little daughter Daisy." He produced the certificate as he spoke, laying it on the table. "Rex thought her dead," he continued, simply. "I have sent for him to break the startling news of Daisy's presence, and I expect him here every moment."

"Pluma," cried Daisy, unclasping her arms from her father's neck, and swiftly crossing over to where her rival stood, beautifully, proudly defiant, "forgive me for the pain I have caused you unknowingly. I did not dream I was--an--an--heiress--or that Mr. Hurlhurst was my father.

I don't want you to go away, Pluma, from the luxury that has been yours; stay and be my sister--share my home."

"My little tender-hearted angel!" cried Basil Hurlhurst, moved to tears.

John Brooks hid his face in his hands.

For a single instant the eyes of these two girls met--whose lives had crossed each other so strangely--Daisy's blue eyes soft, tender and appealing, Pluma's hard, flas.h.i.+ng, bitter and scornful.

She drew herself up to her full height.

"Remain in your house?" she cried, haughtily, trembling with rage.

"You mistake me, girl: do you think I could see you enjoying the home that I have believed to be mine--see the man I love better than life itself lavish caresses upon you--kiss your lips--and bear it calmly?

Live the life of a pauper when I have been led to believe I was an heiress! Better had I never known wealth than be cast from luxury into the slums of poverty," she wailed out, sharply. "I shall not touch a dollar of your money, Basil Hurlhurst. I despise you too much. I have lived with the trappings of wealth around me--the petted child of luxury--all in vain--all in vain."

Basil Hurlhurst was struck with the terrible grandeur of the picture she made, standing there in her magnificent, scornful pride--a wealth of jewels flas.h.i.+ng on her throat and breast and twined in the long, sweeping hair that had become loosened and swept in a dark, s.h.i.+ning ma.s.s to her slender waist, her flas.h.i.+ng eyes far outs.h.i.+ning the jewels upon which the softened gas-light streamed. Not one gleam of remorse softened her stony face in its cruel, wicked beauty. Her jeweled hand suddenly crept to the pocket of her dress where she had placed the vial.

"Open that door!" she commanded.

The key fell from her mother's nerveless grasp. The detective quietly picked it up, placed it in the lock, and opened the door. And just at that instant, Rex Lyon, with the letter in his hand, reached it.

Pluma saw him first.

"Rex!" she cried, in a low, hoa.r.s.e voice, staggering toward him; but he recoiled from her, and she saw Stanwick's letter in his hands; and she knew in an instant all her treachery was revealed; and without another word--pale as death--but with head proudly erect, she swept with the dignity of a princess from the scene of her bitter defeat, closely followed by her cowering mother.

Rex did not seek to detain her; his eyes had suddenly fallen upon the golden-haired little figure kneeling by Basil Hurlhurst's chair.

He reached her side at a single bound.

"Oh, Daisy, my darling, my darling!" he cried, s.n.a.t.c.hing her in his arms, and straining her to his breast, as he murmured pa.s.sionate, endearing words over her.