much."

"I have lost all I hold dear in life," she answered, pathetically,
lifting her beautiful, childish blue eyes toward the white fleecy
clouds tinted by the setting sun.

Their hearts ached for the pretty, lonely little creature. They
believed she was thinking of her mother. So she was--and of Rex, the
handsome young husband whom she so madly idolized in her worshipful
childish fashion, who was worse than dead to her--the husband who
should have believed in her honor and purity, though the world had
cried out to him that she was false. He had thrust aside all
possibility of her writing to him; cast her out from his life; left
her to be persecuted beyond all endurance; bound by a vow she dare not
break to keep her marriage with Rex a secret. Though he was more cruel
than death, she loved Rex with a devotion that never faltered.

Daisy lay there, thinking of it all, while the soft, golden sunlight
died out of the sky, and the deep dusk of twilight crept softly on.

Then the old ladies arose from their chairs, folded their knitting,
and put it away. Dusk was their hour for retiring.

They were discussing which one should sit up with Daisy, when she
summoned them all to her bedside.

"I want you all to go to bed and never mind me," coaxed Daisy, with a
strange light in her eyes. "Take a good sleep, as I am going to do. I
shall be very happy to-morrow--happier than I have ever been before!"

She clasped her white arms about their necks in turn, clinging to
them, and sobbing as though she was loath to part with them.

Ruth's hand she held last and longest.

"Please kiss me again," she sobbed. "Clasp your arms tight around me,
and say 'Good-night, Daisy.' It will be so nice to dream about."

With a cheery laugh the old lady lovingly complied with her request.

"You must close those bright little eyes of yours, and drift quickly
into the Land of Nod, or there will be no roses in these cheeks
to-morrow. Good-night, my pretty little dear!"

"Good-night, dear, kind Ruth!" sighed Daisy.

And she watched the old lady with wistful, hungry eyes as she picked
up her shaded night-lamp, that threw such a soft, sweet radiance over
her aged face, as she quietly quitted the room.

A sudden change came over Daisy's face as the sound of her footsteps
died away in the hall.

"Oh, God! help me!" she cried, piteously, struggling to her feet. "I
must be far away from here when daylight breaks."

She was so weak she almost