“I know everything looks that way, but I shall never believe it,” she cried.
She remembered the conversation she had so lately had with Daisy. How she had clasped her loving little arms about her neck, crying out:
“Pray for me, Eve. I am sorely tried. My feet are on the edge of a precipice. No matter what I may be tempted to do, do not lose faith in me, Eve; always believe in me.”
Poor little Daisy! what was the secret sorrow that was goading her on to madness? Would she ever know?
Where was she now? Ah, who could tell?
A curious change seemed to come over romping, mischievous, merry Eve; she had grown silent and thoughtful.
“I could never believe any one in this world was true or pure again if I thought for one moment deceit lay brooding in a face so fair as little Daisy Brooks’s.”