“I was not until yesterday, when my horse knocked her off her wheel and nearly caused a fatal accident. So I came this morning to beg her forgiveness.”
Mrs. Fleming gave a grating laugh, and answered maliciously:
“Perhaps Daisie may forgive you if she is very kind-hearted, but I am sure my Cousin Royall never will.”
“Royall!” he exclaimed, in bewilderment; but she fluttered over Daisie’s sofa, cooing in her most gushing way:
“My dear girl, may I kiss you? Royall told yesterday of his engagement to you, and that he was going all the way to New York to get a splendid diamond ring for you. We shall be cousins, you and I—and, I hope, great friends. Why—why, what is the matter? The girl is fainting!”
Dallas had heard every word in surprise and horror, and suddenly he clutched the young widow’s arm in a steely grasp.
“What nonsense are you talking to Daisie?” he exclaimed. “She is nothing to Royall! She has promised to marry me!”
“Impossible, Mr. Bain, impossible; for only the night before last she accepted my cousin, and he has gone now to buy the most magnificent engagement ring in New York,” cried the young widow, in defiance and amazement at his claim.
“He has lied to you! She belongs to me!” repeated Dallas hoarsely; and she answered:
“Then she is a wretched little flirt, for she surely gave her promise to Royall. Ask her—see, she is reviving—and she cannot deny it.”