"Is it true, Guy? Write and tell me it is not, and that you love me

still and want me back, or, if it in part is true, and you are engaged

to Julia, show her this letter and ask her to give you up, even if it is

the very day before the wedding--for you are mine, and, sometimes, when

the children are troublesome, and I am so tired and sorry and homesick,

I have such a longing for a sight of your dear face, and think if I

could only lay my aching head in your lap once more I should never know

pain or weariness again.

"Try me, Guy. I will be so good and loving and make you so happy--and

your sister, too--I was a bother to her once. I'll be a comfort now.

Tell her so, please; tell her to bid me come. Say the word yourself,

and, almost before you know it, I'll be there.

"Truly, lovingly, waitingly, your wife,

DAISY.

"P.S.--To make sure of this letter's safety I shall send it to New York

by a friend, who will mail it to you.

"Again, lovingly.

DAISY THORNTON."

This was Daisy's letter which Guy read with such a pang in his heart as

he had never known before, even when he was smarting the worst from

wounded love and disappointed hopes. Then he had said to himself, "I can

never suffer again as I am suffering now," and now, alas, he felt how

little he knew of that pain which rends the heart and takes the breath

away.

"God help her!" he moaned, his first thought, his first prayer, for

Daisy, the girl who called herself his wife, when just across the hall,

only a few rods away, was the bride of a few hours--another woman who

bore his name and called him her husband.

With a face as pale as ashes and hands which shook like palsied hands,

he read again that pathetic cry from her whom he now felt he had never

ceased to love; aye, whom he loved still, and whom, if he could, he

would have taken to his arms so gladly and loved and cherished as the

priceless thing he had once thought her to be. The first moments of

agony which followed the reading of the letter were Daisy's wholly, and

in bitterness of soul the man she had cast off and thought to take again

cried out, as he stretched his arms toward an invisible form: "Too late,

darling--too late. But had it come two months, one month, or even one

week ago, I would--would--have gone to you over land and sea, but

now--another is in your place, another is my wife; Julia--poor, innocent

Julia. God help me to keep my vow; God help me in my need!"




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