“It is for your own sake,” pleaded Daisy. “See, I kneel to you, Miss Hurlhurst. If you would not commit a crime, I implore you by all you hold sacred, to hear me––grant me but a few brief moments.”
“Not an instant,” cried Pluma, scornfully; “shut the door, Marie, and send that person from the house.”
“Oh, what shall I do!” cried Daisy, wringing her hands. “I am driven to the very verge of madness! Heaven pity me––the bitter consequence must fall upon your own head.”
She turned away with a low, bitter cry, as the maid slammed the heavy oaken door in her face.
“There is no other way for me to do,” she told herself, despairingly, “but to see Rex. I do not know how I am going to live through the ordeal of entering his presence––listening to his voice––knowing I bring him such a burden of woe––spoiling his life for the second time.”
She did not hear the door quietly reopen.
“I have heard all that has just passed, young lady,” said a kind voice close beside her. “I am extremely sorry for you––your case seems a pitiful one. I am sorry my daughter refused to see you; perhaps I can be of some assistance to you. I am Miss Hurlhurst’s father.”