CHAPTER XX.
“I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered my little sister,” said Rex, extending his hand to the little veiled figure standing in the shade of the orange-trees. “Allow me to thank you for it.”
Poor Daisy! she dared not speak lest the tones of her voice should betray her identity.
“I must for evermore be as one dead to him,” she whispered to her wildly beating heart.
Rex wondered why the little, fluttering, cold fingers dropped so quickly from his clasp; he thought he heard a stifled sigh; the slight, delicate form looked strangely familiar, yet he could see it was neither Eve, Gerty, nor Bess. She bowed her head with a few low-murmured words he scarcely caught, and the next instant the little figure was lost to sight in the darkness beyond.
“Who was that, Birdie?” he asked, scarcely knowing what prompted the question.
Alas for the memory of childhood! poor little Birdie had quite forgotten.
“It is so stupid of me to forget, but when I see her again I shall ask her and try and remember it then.”
“It is of no consequence,” said Rex, raising the little figure in his arms and bearing her quickly up the graveled path to the house.
As he neared the house Rex observed there was great confusion among the servants; there was a low murmur of voices and lights moving to and fro.