en it all came back to
her with cruel distinctness.

"Where am I?" she cried, struggling up to a sitting posture, and
putting back the tangled golden hair from her face. "How came I here?
Who saved me from the terrible dark water?"

"I did," answered a young man, rising from his seat by the open
window. "I saved your life at the risk of my own. Look up into my
face, Daisy, and see if you do not remember me."

She lifted her blue eyes to the dark, handsome, smiling face before
her. Yes, she had seen that face before, but she could not remember
where.

He laughed, disclosing his handsome white teeth.

"You can not guess, eh?" he said. "Then it is certainly evident I did
not make much of an impression upon you. I am disappointed. I will not
keep you in suspense, however. We met at Whitestone Hall, on the night
of the lawn fete, and my name is Lester Stanwick."

Ah, she _did_ remember him, standing beneath a waving palm-tree, his
bold, dark eyes following her every motion, while she was waltzing
with Rex.

He saw the flash of recognition in her eyes, and the blush that
mantled her fair, sweet face.

"I am very grateful to you, sir, for saving me. But won't you take me
home, please? I don't want to go back to Madame Whitney's."

"Of course not," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, "when you left
it in such a remarkable manner as running away."

"How did you know I ran away?" asked Daisy, flushing hotly.

"Madame Whitney has advertised for you," he responded, promptly.

Although he well knew what he uttered was a deliberate falsehood, he
merely guessed the little wild bird had grown weary of the restraint,
and had flown away.

"Did she do that?" asked Daisy, thoroughly alarmed, her great blue
eyes dilating with fear. "Oh, Mr. Stanwick, what shall I do? I do not
want to go back. I would sooner die first."

"There is no occasion for you to do either," he replied. "You are in
good hands. Stay here until the storm blows over. In all probability
the madame has sent detectives out in all directions searching for
you."

Daisy was so young, so unsuspecting, so artless, and knew so little of
the ways of the world or its intriguing people that she quite believed
his assertion.

"Oh, what shall I do?" she sobbed, covering her face with her hands.
"Oh, I _must_ go back to Uncle John, and--to--to--"

Stanwick had no idea she meant Rex. He took it for granted she meant
John Brooks and Septima.

"It is quite uncert