Daisy Brooks: or, A Perilous Love. Libbey Laura Jean
plan out of the present difficulty. His face flushed and paled as he thought of his new position; it seemed to him every one must certainly read in his face he was a young husband.
Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the broad gravel path to the little cottage, wondering if it were a dream.
“Well!” said Septima, sharply, “this is a pretty time of night to come dancing home, leaving me all alone with the baking! If I hadn’t my hands full of dough I’d give your ears a sound boxing! I’ll see you’re never out after dark again, I’ll warrant.”
For a moment Daisy’s blue eyes blazed, giving way to a roguish smile.
“I wonder what she would say if she knew I was Daisy Brooks no longer, but Mrs. Rex Lyon?” she thought, untying the blue ribbons of her hat. And she laughed outright as she thought how amazed Septima would look; and the laugh sounded like the ripple of a mountain brook.
“Now, Aunt Seppy,” coaxed Daisy, slipping up behind her and flinging her plump little arms around the irate spinster’s neck, “please don’t be cross. Indeed I was very particularly detained.”
Stptima shook off the clinging arms angrily.
“You can’t coax me into upholding you with your soft, purring ways. I’m not Brother John, to be hoodwinked so easily. Detained! A likely story!”
“No,” laughed Daisy; “but you are dear old Uncle John’s sister, and I could love you for that, if for nothing else. But I really was detained, though. Where’s Uncle John?”
“He’s gone to the Hall after you, I reckon. I told him he had better stop at home–you were like a bad penny, sure to find your way back.”
A sudden terror blanched Daisy’s face.
“When did he go, Aunt Seppy?” she asked, her heart throbbing so loudly she was sure Septima would hear it.
“An hour or more ago.”
Daisy hastily picked up her hat again.
“Where are you going?” demanded Septima, sharply.
“I–I–am going to meet Uncle John. Please don’t stop me,” she cried, darting with the speed of a young gazelle past the hand that was stretched out to stay her mad flight. “I–I–must go!”
CHAPTER V
“I say you shall not,” cried Septima, planting herself firmly before her. “You shall not leave this house to-night.”
“You have no right to keep me here,” panted Daisy. “I am–I am–” The words died away on her lips. Rex had told her she must not tell just yet.
“You are a rash little fool,” cried Septima, wrathfully. “You are the bane of my life, and have been ever since that stormy winter night John brought you here. I told him then to wash his hands of the whole matter; you would grow up a willful, impetuous minx, and turn out at last like your mother.”
Daisy sprung to her feet like lightning, her velvet eyes blazing, her breath coming quick and hot.
“Speak of me as lightly as you will, Aunt Septima,” she cried, “but you must spare my poor mother’s name! Oh, mother, mother!” she cried, flinging herself down on her knees, and sobbing piteously, “if you had only taken me with you, down into the dark cruel waters!”
“I only wish to Heaven she had!” fervently ejaculated Septima.
At that moment a quick, hurried step sounded on the gravel path without, and John Brooks hastily entered the room.
“Ah! thank God! here you are, Daisy. I was over at the Hall for you, and they told me you had left some hours before. I knew you had not been home, and I was sorely afraid something had happened you.”
Ah! how little he knew! Something had happened to her, the darkest and cruelest shadow that had ever darkened a girl’s life was slowly gathering above her innocent head, and was soon to break, carrying in its turbulent depths a sorrow more bitter than death to bear.
John Brooks glanced inquiringly from the one to the other, intuitively guessing he must have interrupted a scene.
Daisy had struggled up from her knees to a sitting posture, putting her hair, curled into a thousand shining rings, away from her flushed face.
“Have you been scolding Daisy again, Septima?” he asked, angrily, taking the panting little damsel from the floor and seating her upon his knee, and drawing her curly head down to his rough-clad shoulder, and holding it there with his toil-hardened hand. “What have you been saying to my little Daisy that I find her in tears?”
“I was telling her if she did not mend her willful ways she might turn out like her moth–”
“Hush!” exclaimed John Brooks, excitedly. “I shouldn’t have thought you would have dared say that. What does Daisy know of such things?” he muttered, indignantly. “Don’t let your senses run away with you, Septima.”
“Don’t let your senses run away with you, John Brooks. Haven’t you the sense to know Daisy is getting too big for you to take on your knee and pet in that fashion? I am really ashamed of you. Daisy is almost a woman!” snapped Septima, scornfully–“quite sixteen.”
John Brooks looked at his sister in amazement, holding little Daisy off and gazing into the sweet little blooming face, and stroking the long fluffy golden curls as he replied:
“Ah, no, Septima; Daisy is only a child. Why, it seems as though it were but yesterday I used to take her with me through the cotton-fields, and laugh to see her stretch her chubby hands up, crying for the bursting blossoms, growing high above her curly golden head. Pshaw! Septima, Daisy is only a merry, frolicsome, romantic child yet.”
Daisy nestled her tell-tale face closer on his broad shoulder to hide the swift blushes that crept up to cheek and brow.
“Look up, pet,” he said, coaxingly, “I have news for you.”
“What–what is it?” gasped Daisy, wondering if he could possibly have heard of her romantic marriage with Rex, turning white to the very lips, her blue eyes darkening with suspense.
“Come, come, now,” laughed, John, good-humoredly, “don’t get excited, pet, it will take me just as long to tell it anyhow; it is something that will please you immensely.”
He drew from his breast pocket as he spoke a thick, yellow envelope, which contained several printed forms with blank spaces which were to be filled up. There was something in his voice which made Daisy look at him, but her eyes fell and her cheeks flushed hotly as she met his glance.
Daisy was not used to keeping a secret locked up in her truthful little heart. She longed to throw her arms around his neck and whisper to him of her mad, romantic marriage, and of the handsome young husband who loved her so fondly.
Daisy knew so little of real life, and less of love and marriage, up to the time she had met Rex! Her heroes had been imaginary ones, her ideas of love only girlish, romantic fancies. It was all very exciting and charming. She was very fond of handsome Rex, but she had yet to learn the depths of love which, sooner or later, brightens the lives of lovable women.
Daisy looked at the envelope with a wistful glance.
“I am going to make a lady of you, my little sunbeam. I am going to send you off to boarding-school. That’s what you have always wanted; now I am going to humor your whim.”
“But I–I do not want to go now, Uncle John. I–I have changed my mind.”
“What!”
“I–I don’t want to go off to boarding-school now. I had rather stay here with you.”
John Brooks laid down the pipe he was just lighting in genuine surprise.
“Why, it’s only last week you were crying those pretty eyes of yours out, teasing to be sent to school. I–well, confound it–I don’t understand the ways of women. I always thought you were different from the rest, little Daisy, but I see you are all the same. Never two days of the same