“How strange, how very strange, that I did not see Ray! But I suppose he must have been suddenly called away by a telegram. I shall get a letter from him soon explaining everything.”
And she pretended to look anxiously each day for the letter, while at heart she wondered what had become of her jealous lover, and if he had really gone in pursuit of Dallas Bain, believing him a successful rival.
“What if he should find him and kill him?” she shuddered; and it was no wonder that she convalesced so slowly, with such a terrible weight upon her mind.
When Daisie Bell, whose sprain was well now, came to see her, she was shocked at the piteous change in her pale little friend.
“Oh, how I hate the wretch who nearly killed you, even though it was a stray shot!” she exclaimed; but the poor girl could not confess to Daisie Bell that it was through espousing her cause and trying to straighten out her tangled love affair that she had incurred Ray’s jealousy, and caused the shipwreck of her own happiness.
No, she could not speak, for she must keep the secret now for the sake of her cruel lover.
“But not that I love him any more, for I suppose I ought to hate him now, but I should not wish harm to come to him through me,” thought the loyal young heart.
She told Daisie of her cruel disappointment in not finding out the address of Dallas Bain, and said:
“You will find the letter you gave me in the pocket of the gown I wore that day. It is hanging there in my wardrobe.”
But Daisie found the pocket empty.