se
years abroad; and poor Daisy's banishment dated from the time the lawn
fete had been given in honor of their return.

Daisy glanced shyly up through her veil with a strange feeling of awe
at the noble face, with the deep lines of suffering around the mouth,
as he opened his study door, and, with a stately inclination of the
head, bade her enter.

"His face is not like Pluma's," she thought, with a strange flutter at
her heart. "He looks good and kind. I am sure I can trust him."

Daisy was quite confused as she took the seat he indicated. Mr.
Hurlhurst drew up his arm-chair opposite her, and waited with the
utmost patience for her to commence.

She arose and stood before him, clasping her trembling little white
hands together supplicatingly. He could not see her face, for she
stood in the shadow, and the room was dimly lighted; but he knew that
the sweet, pathetic voice was like the sound of silvery bells chiming
some half-forgotten strain.

"I have come to tell you this wedding can not--must not--go on
to-night!" she cried, excitedly.

Basil Hurlhurst certainly thought the young girl standing before him
must be mad.

"I do not understand," he said, slowly, yet gently. "Why do you, a
stranger, come to me on my daughter's wedding-night with such words as
these? What reason can you offer why this marriage should not
proceed?"

He could not tell whether she had heard his words or not, she stood
before him so silent, her little hands working nervously together. She
looked wistfully into his face, and she drew her slender figure up to
its full height, as she replied, in a low, passionate, musical voice:

"Mr. Lyon can not marry your daughter, sir, for he has a living
wife."

"Mr. Lyon has a wife?" repeated Basil Hurlhurst, literally dumbfounded
with amazement. "In Heaven's name, explain yourself!" he cried, rising
hastily from his chair and facing her.

The agitation on his face was almost alarming. His grand old face was
as white as his linen. His eyes were full of eager, painful suspense
and excitement. With a violent effort at self-control he restrained
his emotions, sinking back in his arm-chair like one who had received
an unexpected blow.

Daisy never remembered in what words she told him the startling truth.
He never interrupted her until she had quite finished.

"You will not blame Rex," she pleaded, her sweet voice choking with
emotion; "he believes me dead."

Basil Hurlhurst did not answer; h