“One question at a time, if you please,” laughed Stanwick, gazing admiringly at the beautiful, questioning, eager face.
“I suppose,” he began, with provoking coolness, “you have been filling that little head of yours with romantic ideas of running away from school, and sailing far out to sea, and straight into the arms of some handsome hero who would save you, and would carry you off to some castle, and turn out to be a prince in disguise! That’s the way they usually turn out, isn’t it? But you found the theory did not work very well in real life, and your little romance came near costing you your life––eh, Miss Daisy? As for the second question, I rescued you, just in the nick of time, by jumping into the turbulent waves and bearing you out of harm’s way and keeping that little romantic head of yours above water until the barge could be stopped, and you were then brought on board. I recognized you at once,” he continued; “and to prevent suspicion and inquiry, which would have been sure to follow, I claimed you––as my wife! Do not be alarmed,” he said, as a sharp, horrified cry rose to the red lips. “I simply did that in order to protect you from being returned at once in bitter disgrace to Madame Whitney’s. Not knowing what else to do with you when the boat landed, I brought you here, and here you have been ever since, quite unconscious up to date.”
“Was it last night you brought me here?” asked Daisy.
“You are not good at guessing. You have been here two nights and two days.”
“But who lives here?” persisted Daisy. “Is this your house?”
“Oh, dear, no,” laughed Stanwick. “Upon my honor, you are not very complimentary to my taste,” he said, glancing around the meagerly furnished apartment. “As near as I can understand it, the house is occupied by three grim old maids. Each looks to be the twin of the other. This was the first shelter I could find, and I had carried you all the way from the boat in my arms, and under the circumstances, after much consulting, they at last agreed to allow you to remain here. Now you have the whole story in a nutshell.”
“Why did they not send to Septima to come to me?” she asked presently.
“Because they thought you were with your best protector––your husband.”
“Did you tell them that here, too?” asked Daisy, growing white and ill with a dizzy horror. “Oh, Mr. Stanwick, send 57 for them at once, and tell them it is not so, or I must!” she added, desperately.
“You must do nothing of the kind, you silly child. Do you suppose they would have sheltered you for a single instant if they had not believed you were my wife? You do not know the ways of the world. Believe me, it was the only course I could pursue, in that awkward dilemma, without bringing disgrace and detection upon you.”