“There was no room for doubt,” said Annette; and, between eager questions and answers, he presently knew the whole story of that night and day, whose adverse influences had goaded Daisie Bell into acquiescence with the fate that had made her Royall Sherwood’s wife.
Then he told his own story of the letter Daisie had sent him that night by the maid.
“She did not send that letter,” Annette assured him; and he said, with bitter anger:
“Then we were both the victims of a dastardly plot. Who was the instigator?”
“I cannot tell. Of course, Royall Sherwood was much benefited by it; but in his almost dying condition it was not possible for him to carry it out.”
They looked at each other silently a moment, then Dallas said, with conviction:
“I have heard that his loving cousin, Mrs. Fleming, helped him with his marriage. Doubtless this was her way.”
“I do not know for certain; but I believe that you are right,” acquiesced the young girl; but she added: “Daisie stood firm against everything until Royall had that sinking spell, and even the doctor believed he was dying. Then she yielded for pity’s sake. We all persuaded her, I don’t deny it. But I always stood your friend until that night.”
“I know that, and I thank you,” he said; and was rising when she put out her hand to arrest him.
“Where are you going?”