Those were the happiest moments proud, peerless Pluma Hurlhurst was ever to know––“before the hour should wane the fruition of all her hopes would be attained.”
No feeling of remorse stole over her to imbitter the sweets of her triumphant thoughts.
She had lived in a world of her own, planning and scheming, wasting her youth, her beauty, and her genius, to accomplish the one great ultimatum––winning Rex Lyon’s love.
She took from her bosom a tiny vial, containing a few white, flaky crystals. “I shall not need this now,” she told herself. “If Lester Stanwick had intended to interfere he would have done so ere this; he has left me to myself, realizing his threats were all in vain; yet I have been sore afraid. Rex will never know that I lied and schemed to win his love, or that I planned the removal of Daisy Brooks from his path so cleverly; he will never know that I have deceived him, or the wretched story of my folly and passionate, perilous love. I could not have borne the shame and the exposure; there would have been but one escape”––quite unconsciously she slid the vial into the pocket of her silken robe––“I have lived a coward’s life; I should have died a coward’s death.”
“It is time to commence arranging your toilet, mademoiselle,” said the maid, approaching her softly with the white glimmering satin robe, and fleecy veil over her arm. “My fingers are deft, but you have not one moment to spare.”
Pluma waved her off with an imperious gesture.
“Not yet,” she said. “I suppose I might as well go down first as last to see what in the world he wants with me; he should have come to me if he had wished to see me so very particularly;” and the dutiful daughter, throwing the train of her dress carelessly over her arm, walked swiftly through the brilliantly lighted corridor toward Basil Hurlhurst’s study. She turned the knob and entered. The room was apparently deserted. “Not here!” she muttered, with surprise. “Well, my dear, capricious father, I shall go straight back to my apartments. You shall come to me hereafter.” As she turned to retrace her steps a hand was laid upon her shoulder, and a woman’s voice whispered close to her ear:
“I was almost afraid I should miss you––fate is kind.”
Pluma Hurlhurst recoiled from the touch, fairly holding her breath, speechless with fury and astonishment.
“You insolent creature!” she cried. “I wonder at your boldness in forcing your presence upon me. Did I not have 188 you thrust from the house an hour ago, with the full understanding I would not see you, no matter who you were or whom you wanted.”