At the self-same moment that the scene just described was being enacted in the study Rex Lyon was pacing to and fro in his room, waiting for the summons of Pluma to join the 191 bridal-party in the corridor and adjourn to the parlors below, where the guests and the minister awaited them.
He walked toward the window and drew aside the heavy curtains. The storm was beating against the window-pane as he leaned his feverish face against the cool glass, gazing out into the impenetrable darkness without.
Try as he would to feel reconciled to his marriage he could not do it. How could he promise at the altar to love, honor, and cherish the wife whom he was about to wed?
He might honor and cherish her, but love her he could not, no matter for all the promises he might make. The power of loving was directed from Heaven above––it was not for mortals to accept or reject at will.
His heart seemed to cling with a strange restlessness to Daisy, the fair little child-bride, whom he had loved so passionately––his first and only love, sweet little Daisy!
From the breast-pocket of his coat he took the cluster of daisies he had gone through the storm on his wedding-night to gather. He was waiting until the monument should arrive before he could gather courage to tell Pluma the sorrowful story of his love-dream.
All at once he remembered the letter a stranger had handed him outside of the entrance gate. He had not thought much about the matter until now. Mechanically he picked it up from the mantel, where he had tossed it upon entering the room, glancing carelessly at the superscription. His countenance changed when he saw it; his lips trembled, and a hard, bitter light crept into his brown eyes. He remembered the chirography but too well.
“From Stanwick!” he cried, leaning heavily against the mantel.
Rex read the letter through with a burning flush on his face, which grew white as with the pallor of death as he read; a dark mist was before his eyes, the sound of surging waters in his ears.
“Old College Chum,”––it began,––“For the sake of those happy hours of our school-days, you will please favor me by reading what I have written to the end.