Dear reader, we must return at this period to Rex––poor, broken-hearted Rex––whom we left in the company of Pluma Hurlhurst in the spacious parlor of Whitestone Hall.
“Daisy Brooks is at this moment with Lester Stanwick! You must learn to forget her, Rex,” she repeated, slowly.
A low cry escaped from Rex’s lips, and he recoiled from her as though she had struck him a heavy blow. His heart seemed fairly stifled in his bosom, and he trembled in every limb with repressed excitement.
“Here is a letter from Madame Whitney,” she continued. “Read it for yourself, Rex. You see, she says: ‘Daisy fled. It has been since ascertained she went to Elmwood, a station some sixty miles from here, where she now is, at the cottage of the Burton sisters, in company with her lover. I shall not attempt to claim her––her retribution must come from another source.’”
The words seemed to stand out in letters of fire.
“Oh, my little love,” he cried, “there must be some terrible mistake! My God! my God! there must be some horrible mistake––some foul conspiracy against you, my little sweetheart, my darling love!”
He rose to his feet with a deep-drawn sigh, his teeth shut close, his heart beating with great strangling throbs of pain. Strong and brave as Rex was, this trouble was almost more than he could bear.
“Where are you going, Rex?” said Pluma, laying a detaining hand upon his arm.