by _fair_ means, of Whitestone
Hall.

CHAPTER XXIII.

The servant who opened the door for Daisy looked earnestly at the
fair, pleading young face, framed in rings of golden hair, so pure and
spiritual that it looked like an angel's with the soft white moonlight
falling over it.

"You will not refuse me," she repeated, timidly. "I must speak to Mrs.
Lyon."

"You have come too late," he replied, gently; "Mrs. Lyon is dead."

The man never forgot the despairing look of horror that deepened in
the childish blue eyes raised to his.

"Rex's mother dead!" she repeated, slowly, wondering if she had heard
aright. "Oh, my poor Rex, my poor Rex!"

How she longed to go to him and comfort him in that terrible hour, but
she dared not intrude upon him.

"If there is any message you would like to leave," said the
kind-hearted Parker, "I will take it to Mr. Rex."

"No," said Daisy, shaking her head, "I have no message to leave;
perhaps I will come again--after this is all over," she made answer,
hesitatingly; her brain was in a whirl; she wanted to get away all by
herself to think. "Please don't say any one was here," she said,
quickly; "I--I don't want any one to know."

The sweet, plaintive voice, as sweet as the silvery note of a forest
bird, went straight to his heart.

Whatever the mission of this beautiful, mysterious visitor, he would
certainly respect her wishes.

"I shall not mention it if you do not wish it," he said.

"Thank you," she replied, simply; "you are very kind. My life seems
made up of disappointments," she continued, as she walked slowly home
under the restless, sighing green branches.

It seemed so indeed. She was so young and inexperienced to be thrown
so entirely upon the cold, pitiless world--cut off so entirely from
all human sympathy. She entered the house quite unobserved.
Eve--bright, merry, dashing Eve--was singing like a lark in the
drawing-room, making the old house echo with her bright young voice.

"How happy she is!" thought Daisy, wistfully. "She has home, friends,
and love, while I have nothing that makes life worth the living."

Like a shadow, she flitted on through the dim, shadowy hall, toward
her own little room. She saw Gertie's door was ajar as she passed it,
and the sound of her own name caused her to pause voluntarily.

It was very natural for Daisy to pause. How many are there who would
have passed on quietly, with no desire to know what was being said of
the