CHAPTER XXXV.
Daisy had decided the great question of her life. Yes, she would go to John Brooks with her pitiful secret, and, kneeling at his feet, tell him all, and be guided by his judgment.
“I can never go back to Rex,” she thought, wearily. “I have spoiled his life; he does not love me; he wished to be free and marry Pluma.”
“You must not think of the troubles of other people, my dear,” said Mrs. Tudor, briskly, noting the thoughtful expression of the fair young face. “Such cases as I have just read you are fortunately rare. I should not have read you the 172 scandals. Young girls like to hear about the marriages best. Ah! here is one that is interesting––a grand wedding which is to take place at Whitestone Hall, in Allendale, to-morrow night. I have read of it before; it will be a magnificent affair. The husband-to-be, Mr. Rexford Lyon, is very wealthy; and the bride, Miss Pluma Hurlhurst, is quite a society belle––a beauty and an heiress.”
Poor Daisy! although she had long expected it, the announcement seemed like a death-blow to her loving little heart; in a single instant all her yearning, passionate love for her handsome young husband awoke into new life.
She had suddenly awakened to the awful reality that her husband was about to marry another.
“Oh, pitiful Heaven, what shall I do?” she cried, wringing her hands. “I will be too late to warn them. Yet I must––I must! It must not be!” she cried out to herself; “the marriage would be wrong.” If she allowed it to go on, she would be guilty of a crime; therefore, she must prevent it.
Pluma was her mortal enemy. Yet she must warn her that the flower-covered path she was treading led to a precipice. The very thought filled her soul with horror.
She wasted no more time in thinking, she must act.