Long after the guests had departed Pluma sat in her boudoir, her heart torn with pain, love, and jealousy, her brain filled with schemes of vengeance.
“I can not take her life!” she cried; “but if I could mar her beauty––the pink-and-white beauty of Daisy Brooks, which has won Rex from me––I would do it. I shall torture her for this,” she cried. “I will win him from her though I wade through seas of blood. Hear me, Heaven,” she cried, “and register my vow!”
Pluma hastily rung the bell.
“Saddle Whirlwind and Tempest at once!” she said to the servant who answered her summons.
“It is after midnight, Miss Pluma. I––”
There was a look in her eyes which would brook no further words.
An hour later they had reached the cottage wherein slept Daisy Brooks, heedless of the danger that awaited her.
“Wait for me here,” said Pluma to the groom who accompanied her––“I will not be long!”