“I do not suppose any one knows. It was all very sudden. Mrs. Fleming and her cousin were walking in the grounds, discussing his marriage, when the shot was fired from behind by some one who must have been concealed in the shrubberies. Instantly all was confusion, as there were other parties also out in the moonlight. A crowd gathered instantly. It was found that Mr. Sherwood was shot through the body. A physician was by, fortunately, and, on a hasty examination, he pronounced the wound mortal. He was removed to his room, and, on recovering consciousness, asked for his wife to be summoned. Mrs. Fleming begged me to come with the carriage and urge her to return with me.”
Daisie sobbed aloud in grief and pity for the man suddenly stricken down in youth’s early dawn, and the young minister thought:
“Mrs. Fleming was right: She loved him, after all, and they would have been reconciled to-morrow. What a calamity it is that sunders their wedded lives so soon.”
But he did not attempt to offer any condolences to the sobbing girl. It seemed to him that she had been rude to him all through in her pettish anger.
A silent, miserable cortège, they filed into the hall, where so lately mirth and joy reigned, now still and lonely, with scared servants gliding to and fro, turning down the brilliant lights, and removing the traces of festivity.
Letty Green was waiting with Cullen at the door to conduct them to the dying man, and as they went along the corridor Mrs. Fleming herself came to meet them, her eyes dim with tears, that made her festal robes look strangely out of place.
She took Daisie’s hand, and whispered:
“You will soon be free now. Poor Royall cannot live long. It is his love for you that has caused his death. That wretch killed him!”
“That wretch?” Daisie sobbed uncomprehendingly; and Mrs. Fleming hissed in her ear:
“Who but his cruel rival?”