To Pluma, handsome, courtly Rex was an enigma. In her own mind she liked him all the better because he had not fallen down and worshiped her at once. Most men did that.
For several moments they walked along in utter silence––until they had reached the brink of the dark pool, which lay quite at the further end of the inclosure.
Pluma gave a little shuddering scream:
“I did not mean to bring you here,” she cried. “I always 155 avoid this path; the waters of the pool have always had a great dread for me.”
“It should be filled up,” said Rex, “or fenced around; it is certainly a dangerous locality.”
“It can not be filled up,” she returned, laughingly; “it is said to be bottomless. I do not like to think of it; come away, Rex.”
The magnificent bridal costume, ordered expressly from Paris, had arrived––perfect even to the last detail. The bride-maids’ costumes were all ready; and to everything in and about the Hall the last finishing touches had been given.
All the young girls hovered constantly around Pluma, in girl-fashion admiring the costume, the veil, the wreath, and above all the radiantly beautiful girl who was to wear them. Even the Glenn girls and Grace Alden were forced to admit the willful young heiress would make the most peerless bride they had ever beheld.
Little Birdie alone held aloof, much to Rex’s amusement and Pluma’s intense mortification.
“Little children often take such strange freaks,” she would say to Rex, sweetly. “I really believe your little sister intends never to like me; I can not win one smile from her.”