When Daisie Bell sat reading on the porch next day, a messenger brought her a basket of rare flowers and a note from Royall Sherwood, asking permission to call on her that evening.
She went in to her aunt, asking demurely what she ought to answer.
“Why, let him come, of course! Daisie Bell, you’re a lucky girl. This Royall Sherwood is a millionaire, they tell me, and your face is pretty enough to win him, or any other man.”
“Then I wish it had been the other man,” thought Daisie sadly, as she went to answer the note.
“The other man” meant Dallas Bain, whose dark, manly beauty and earnest glance into her eyes had made a deep impression on her heart.
His face was haunting her just as hers haunted him. It was a case of mutual attraction—of love at first sight.
Heaven had made these two for each other, but adverse forces were busy driving them apart.
Since Daisie had heard that Dallas was in love with the young widow, she tried to drive his handsome face from her thoughts, and since Dallas had been told that she was a simpering giggler he did not try to see her any more, and regretted that he had anonymously sent her a passionate love poem.
Yet he could not have helped being glad if he could have seen how she read and reread it in blushing solitude, with an unerring conviction that he had sent it—her hero of the brilliant dark eyes and winning smile.
But now, when told that he loved another, she cherished painful doubts.