ind of heart. For
long years I have set my heart upon this marriage between Rex and
Pluma Hurlhurst. I say again it must be!" Mrs. Lyon idolized her only
son. "He would be a fitting mate for a queen," she told herself. The
proud, peerless beauty of the haughty young heiress of Whitestone Hall
pleased her. "She and no other shall be Rex's wife," she said.

When Rex accepted the invitation to visit Whitestone Hall she smiled
complacently.

"It can end in but one way," she told herself; "Rex will bring Pluma
home as his bride."

Quite unknown to him, his elegant home had been undergoing repairs for
months.

"There will be nothing wanting for the reception of his bride," she
said, viewing the magnificent suites of rooms which contained every
luxury that taste could suggest or money procure.

Then came Rex's letter like a thunderbolt from a clear sky begging her
not to mention the subject again, as he could never marry Pluma
Hurlhurst.

"I shall make a flying trip home," he said, "then I am going abroad."

She did not notice how white and worn her boy's handsome face had
grown when she greeted him the night before, in the flickering light
of the chandelier. She would not speak to him then of the subject
uppermost in her mind.

"Retire to your room at once, Rex," she said, "your journey has
wearied you. See, it is past midnight already. I will await you
to-morrow morning in my boudoir; we will breakfast there together."

She leaned back against the crimson velvet cushions, tapping her satin
quilted slipper restlessly on the thick velvet carpet, ever and anon
glancing at her jeweled watch, wondering what could possibly detain
Rex.

She heard the sound of a quick, familiar footstep in the corridor; a
moment later Rex was by her side. As she stooped down to kiss his face
she noticed, in the clear morning light, how changed he was. Her
jeweled hands lingered on his dark curls and touched his bright, proud
face. "What had come over this handsome, impetuous son of hers?" she
asked herself.

"You have been ill, Rex," she said, anxiously, "and you have not told
me."

"I have not, indeed, mother," he replied.

"Not ill? Why, my dear boy, your face is haggard and worn, and there
are lines upon it that ought not to have been there for years. Rex,"
she said, drawing him down on the sofa beside her, and holding his
strong white hands tightly clasped in her own, "I do not want to tease
you or bring up an unpleasant subje