“I give you this last and final statement in all truth. I was haunted day and night by her sad, pitiful face; it almost drove me mad with remorse, and to ease my mind I had the shaft searched a week ago, and learned the startling fact––it revealed no trace of her ever having been there.
“The shaft does not contain the remains of Daisy Brooks, and I solemnly affirm (although I have no clew to substantiate the belief) that Daisy Brooks is not dead, but living, and Pluma Hurlhurst’s soul is not dyed with the blood which she would not have hesitated to shed to remove an innocent rival from her path. I do not hold myself guiltless, still the planner of a crime is far more guilty than the tool who does the work in hope of reward.
“The heiress of Whitestone Hall has played me false, take to your heart your fair, blushing bride, but remember hers is a perilous love.”
The letter contained much more, explaining each incident in detail, but Rex had caught at one hope, as a drowning man catches at a straw.
“Merciful Heaven!” he cried, his heart beating loud and fast. “Was it not a cruel jest to frighten him on his wedding-eve? Daisy alive! Oh, just Heaven, if it could only be true!” He drew his breath, with a long, quivering sigh, at the bare possibility. “Little Daisy was as pure in thought, word and deed as an angel. God pity me!” he cried. “Have patience with me for my harshness toward my little love. I did not give my little love even the chance of explaining the situation,” he groaned. Then his thoughts went back to Pluma.
He could not doubt the truth of the statement Stanwick offered, and the absolute proofs of its sincerity. He could not curse her for her horrible deceit, because his mother had loved her so, and it was done through her blinding, passionate love for him; and he buried his face in his hands, and wept bitterly. It was all clear as noonday to him now why Daisy had not kept the tryst under the magnolia-tree, and the cottage was empty. She must certainly have attempted to make her escape from the school in which they placed her to come back to his arms.
“Oh, dupe that I have been!” he moaned. “Oh, my sweet little innocent darling!” he cried. “I dare not hope Heaven has spared you to me!”
Now he understood why he had felt such a terrible aversion to Pluma all along. She had separated him from his beautiful, golden-haired child-bride.