“Oh, yes; I had forgotten. But you told me he was coming to see you, Annette—has he come yet?”
A strange light gleamed in the dark, uplifted eyes, and Annette’s hand was pressed convulsively on her heart while she answered:
“No, he could not come——Oh, what am I saying? He came, but his visit was very short, for he was called away by a telegram. I was so sorry, for I wished to bring him to call on you. He was so tall, and dark, and handsome, like your noble Dallas. Oh!” and suddenly Annette broke down and wept in wildest grief.
Daisie let the storm abate; then said anxiously:
“Dear, did your servant tell you about—my marriage?”
“Yes—oh, yes—everything. And so Dallas came back to you, after all? I wish my lover could come back to me,” sighing. “But, Daisie, you cannot help yourself now, since Royall is your husband; and if you desert him now it will seem so heartless, as if you wished him to die! And, oh, he must not die! That would be too dreadful. Let him get well by your help, and then leave him, if you wish, Daisie.”
Daisie sighed to herself that every one was in league against her. She had not a friend in the world but Dallas. Oh, if only he were by her side now!
Sighing wearily, she answered:
“Do not tease me any more to-night, dear, for I cannot make up my mind until I see Dallas to-morrow. He must advise me what to do, for I am all at sea. Of course, I wish to be kind to the dying, but I cannot, must not, do anything that will hinder me from getting a divorce from him should he live. So you see how hard my position is, dear, and must not urge me to anything that will wreck my life’s happiness.”
“No, I will not. But, ah, I cannot bear for Mr. Sherwood to die! He must live—he must live!” cried Annette, relapsing into wildness again.