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 1934 
 
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LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 

Lord Lisle’s Daughter. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 By CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME, 
 
 Author of “Dora Thorne ‘ 'Madolin s Lover f EM. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
 No, 65 Duane Street. 
 

LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 An artist might have sketched Deepdale as the model 
 and type of an English village. It nestled amid the Dev- 
 onshire hills, trying to hide itself under the spreading 
 shade of tall trees. The bonny Deeplow Woods half in- 
 closed it; smiling corn fields, green meadows, and pleasant 
 gardens gave it a quiet, varied charm. The deep, broad 
 stream, the Eiver Floss, ran by it; far off in the distance 
 lay the chain of blue hills that sloped down to the sea. 
 
 They were a simple, kindly race, the people who dwelt 
 in Deepdale — far behind the rest of the world in knowledge. 
 
 The weather and the crops were their two chief subjects 
 of conversation and anxiety. Strangers seldom came near 
 the village; the railway had not broken upon its tranquil 
 calm. There were many such quiet, sunny nooks in old 
 England years ago, but they are rare now. 
 
 The houses were scattered; there was no regular street; 
 a group of cottages stood under the tall poplar-trees; 
 another in the midst of flower gardens; little villas were 
 dotted here and there, half hidden by luxuriant foliage. 
 
 Perhaps the most picturesque spot in Deepdale was 
 Meadow Lane, one of those broad green lanes only seen 
 in England; the hedges filled with wild roses and eglantine; 
 hawthorn-trees perfuming the clear, summer air, and wild 
 flowers growing in rich profusion. 
 
 A little cottage stood at the end of the lane. Claude 
 
6 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Lorraine would have made a grand picture of it. A little 
 cottage, with bright windows encircled by guelder roses and 
 woodbines; and the white jasmine flowers shone like pale 
 stars. A group of tall chestnut-trees stood near, and a 
 pretty brook ran singing by. 
 
 On this evening, when our story opens, a young lady ar- 
 rived at Deepdale. She came from some neighboring town, 
 in a shabby, worn-out fly, bringing with her a large box 
 and a little child. The driver, obeying the lady’s direc- 
 tions, inquired for Mrs. Rivers, of Rosemary Cottage; and 
 some of the village people, attracted and half dazzled by 
 the fly, shabby as it was, showed the way to the cottage in 
 Meadow Lane. But there were places where the brook 
 widened, and the carriage could not pass. The lady quick- 
 ly solved the difficulty; she bade the driver go to the vil- 
 lage inn, and send the box on to the cottage, and she her- 
 self took the child in her arms. 
 
 “ Tell me,” she said, gently, “how long you can wait. 
 Give me as much time as you can.” 
 
 “ I must be back by eleven if possible,” he replied. 
 
 “ Then 1 will be at the inn by ten,” she said, turning 
 from him, and clasping the child in her arms. She walked 
 quickly down the green lane; then she sat down upon the 
 trunk of an old tree and gazed around her. 
 
 The child in the lady’s arms stirred, and she bent over 
 it, kissing the little face with a wistful love pitiful to sere; 
 then she placed the child down for a few minutes, stand- 
 ing by her side. 
 
 “ This will be my darling’s home,” she said to herself; 
 “ and 1 could wish for no fairer one. ” 
 
 Pensively she gazed upon the child; then she rose, took 
 up her precious treasure and walked on to the cottage, and 
 gently rapped at the door. It was opened by a clean, kind- 
 ly looking woman, who cried out with delight when she 
 saw who stood there. 
 
 “ I never believed it/’ she said. “ Can it really be 
 
LORD LISLE ’S DAUGHTER. 7 
 
 you. Miss Margaret? I thought the news too good to be 
 true. ” 
 
 6 ‘ It is quite true, nurse. 1 could not leave my darling 
 in any care but yours.” 
 
 Mrs. Rivers took the child from the lady’s arms, and 
 placed a large chair for her. 
 
 “ I have not long to stay,” said the fair young visitor; 
 “ let me keep baby in my arms while I can.” 
 
 64 That you shall,” replied Mrs. Rivers, gently; “ it is 
 hard enough for you. Ah, Miss Margaret — 1 call you 
 4 miss ’ still — I can not remember that you are a mar- 
 ried lady, with a baby of your own. It is not long since I 
 nursed you.” 
 
 “ Not so very long,” was the reply; “ but I have lived 
 many lives since then.” 
 
 As the lady spoke a look of pain passed over her lovely 
 features. 
 
 “All my other troubles seem like play, nurse,” she 
 continued, “ in comparison with the parting from my little 
 child.” 
 
 A sudden mist of tears gathered in her eyes as she spoke. 
 
 “ Calm yourself,” said the nurse. “ I will make you 
 some tea, and then you shall tell me your story.” 
 
 While Mrs. Rivers busied herself in preparing tea, the 
 lady sat with the child in her arms. She laid her fair 
 young face on the little golden head, murmuring sweet 
 words of love never forgotten by the one who heard them. 
 
 The western sunbeams came in at the open window; 
 but they brought no message of hope for her, whose heart 
 was sad even unto death. 
 
 She tried to drink the tea kind hands brought her; but 
 the homely cakes, the golden honey, and ripe fruit, Mrs. 
 Rivers offered her in vain. 
 
 “ Now, my dear,” said the nurse, when the simple 
 meal ended, “ come out into the garden. You shall sit 
 under the laburnum-tree while you tell me all about it— 
 
LORD LISLE y S DAUGHTER. 
 
 where your husband has gone — why you are going — what 
 is the mystery. Tell me, for you know you can trust 
 me. v 
 
 As she spoke the nurse placed a chair outside the porch, 
 and then seated herself by the lady’s side; and the child, 
 as though knowing how soon those tender arms must loose 
 their hold, lay silent and still. 
 
 “ I have not much to tell,” the lady began. “You 
 left my father’s house when he failed; he did not live long 
 after that. My mother took me to London and put me 
 to school there. She died when I reached my fifteenth 
 year, and I was left quite alone. I wrote to you sometimes; 
 but with that one exception there was no human being who 
 took any interest in me. My father’s friends, who courted 
 me when he was rich, forgot my existence even. 
 
 “Just before my mother’s death she placed me as gover- 
 ness-pupil in a school near London. In return for the 
 lessons I gave I was taught many accomplishments. In 
 my nineteenth year 1 left there to take my first situation as 
 governess — it was considered a very good one. I had the 
 charge of Colonel Seaton’s two little children, who reside 
 at Hurst Hall, in Norfolk. 
 
 “ I was happy there; the colonel and Mrs. Seaton were 
 very kind to me. Ah, nurse! I am trying to tell you niy 
 story; but how can I? I can not paint the glorious col- 
 ors of this evening sky, I can not put to music the song 
 of the bird, nor can I describe the change that came over 
 my life when he who is now my husband began to love me. 
 
 “ I was but a child when my father failed and died. 
 After that my life seemed one long, dull, gray-colored 
 dream. Of the pleasures, the innocent happiness of young 
 girls, 1 knew nothing. I had never even cared whether 
 my face were fair or not; but one evening — ah, me! how 
 vividly that scene returns — one evening 1 had done some- 
 thing that did not please Mrs. Seaton, and she spoke angrily 
 to me. When the children had gone to bed, and my time 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 § 
 
 was my own, I went out into the garden. I had been 
 asked to train some choice rose-trees, and as I bent over 
 the roses the tears fell from my eyes upon the flowers. 
 
 “ Not tears such as I shed now, full of bitterness, but 
 hopeless tears that had in them no aching sorrow — nothing 
 but a desolate weariness. Suddenly, standing before me, 
 I saw a gentleman — p, young and handsome man. He 
 spoke to me, saying he had come some long distance to see 
 Colonel Seaton. 
 
 “ I told him Colonel and Mrs. Seaton would both be in 
 at eight o’clock, and if he particularly wished to see them, 
 he had better wait, or call again. He decided upon wait- 
 ing. Then he looked at me, nurse, with such kind, grave 
 eyes, and asked me if I were in trouble, that I had been 
 weeping so bitterly. 
 
 6i 6 1 had no trouble/ 1 replied, 6 but I was tired of my 
 life. ’ 
 
 “ He stood and talked to me, saying such brave, noble 
 words I can never forget them. And as he spoke the 
 sun seemed to shine more brightly, the flowers gave forth a 
 sweeter fragrance, his voice made music in _my heart — 
 music that has never died out since. FromShat hour 
 my life changed; it was no longer gray and dull. 1 lived 
 in a rose-colored dream — a golden light had fallen over me 
 and dazzled my eyes. 
 
 “ Nurse, I can not tell you my husband’s name. I shall 
 keep no secret from you but that. I promised him, and I 
 must keep my word.” 
 
 A look of great anxiety came over Mrs. Rivers’s face, 
 but she made no comment. 
 
 “ Captain Arthur — I may call him that-— remained at 
 Hurst Hall for some weeks. He told me he loved me, 
 and I — oh, dear Heaven ! what had I done that such happi- 
 ness should be mine? — he asked me to be his wife; but 
 our marriage was to be kept quite secret. I will tell you 
 why. My husband, like myself, has no parents. They 
 
10 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 died when he was quite a child, and he was adopted by an 
 uncle, who educated him, bought his commission, and 
 promised to look well to his future prospects. I must not 
 tell you his uncle’s name either, nurse, England knows it 
 well. He is a nobleman of high birth, and still higher re- 
 pute; he has two sons; the eldest, of course, will succeed 
 him; the youngest is in the royal navy. This uncle has 
 always been kind, with this one exception — he would not 
 listen to the idea of any marriage. Captain Arthur must 
 wait, he said; and, as he had no money himself, he must 
 marry an heiress; and threatened that if thwarted in this 
 respect he should withdraw all support and friendship from 
 him. 
 
 “ So our marriage was a private one. I left my situa- 
 tion one fine morning in June, and drove straight to a 
 church — one of the largest and oldest in London. Captain 
 Arthur met me there; we were married, and then he took 
 me home. Our home; was a pretty villa among the High- 
 gate Hills. As much happiness fell to my share in that 
 one short year as some people enjoy in a life-time. Our 
 secret was never discovered. 1 was known as Mrs. Howard 
 —my mother’s maiden name. At the year’s end just 
 after my little child was born, my husband’s regiment was 
 ordered to India. The doctor forbid me going with him — 
 and we parted. It was arranged that I should join him 
 when baby would be strong enough and old enough to stand 
 the voyage. But they tell me, nurse, that she would not 
 live there, where the sun scorches and burns. I should not 
 leave her yet; but my husband is very ill. The last three 
 mails have brought me sad news from him; he is very ill, 
 "and pines for me. What can 1 do? My heart is torn be- 
 tween my husband and my child. The doctor, who is my 
 old friend, says she would die before she had been in 
 India a week. My Arthur may die, unless I can go to 
 nurse him; and 1 thought of many plans, but there is no 
 one to whom 1 can trust my child but you, my faithful 
 
LOUD LISLE’S DAUC4HTER. 
 
 11 
 
 friend. I have no relations in the world, and in my sor- 
 row I have sought you. I leave England to-morrow. 
 Will you take charge of my child for three years? 1 
 will reward you handsomely at the end of that time, when 
 I shall return and make some further arrangements. 
 What do you say, nurse? Will you undertake the trust?” 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Thebe was a moment of unbroken silence when the lady 
 ceased speaking, and the woman by her side answered 
 gravely: 
 
 44 1 accept the charge, my dear. I will take care of 
 your child as though she were my own. God bless and 
 preserve you. Miss Margaret! I hope Captain Arthur 
 is good and true?” 
 
 44 Good?” said the clear voice. 44 1 have never seen any 
 one like him, nurse! He i s kind, tender, and loving . 
 One word from him means more than the vow of ano'ffier. 
 He is the soul of honor and truth.” The pale, sweet face 
 brightened as she spoke. 44 You, too, have a little daugh- 
 ter,” she continued. 44 Where is she? Will you let me see 
 her?” 
 
 44 1 have a pretty child,” said Mrs. Rivers, 44 and. Miss 
 Margaret, 1 named her after you, but we call her 4 Rita.’ 
 My poor husband used to say Margaret was too long for 
 every-day use. She is gone to one of my neighbors. 1 will 
 fetch her.” 
 
 In a few minutes the woman returned, leading by the 
 hand a beautiful child of four years old — a child Murillo 
 would have been charmed with — dark in features and 
 eyes, with black, shining hair clustering in thick weaves 
 upon her pretty shoulders; lips as ripe and red as cherries, 
 and little white teeth that gleamed like pearls. 
 
 The lady cried out in admiration when she saw her, and 
 a look of gratified vanity stole over the lovely childish face 
 
12 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 “Ah!” said the nurse, “my little Rita is very pretty, 
 but I look upon beauty as a 6 fatal dower/ What has it 
 done for you. Miss Margaret, my dear? — and there never 
 was a sweeter face than yours. Your little one is not like 
 you.” 
 
 “ No,” replied the lady. “ My hair and eyes are dark; 
 her little curls are like pale gold; her eyes are blue as a sum- 
 mer sky. I do not know whether others would form the 
 same opinion as I, but to me she has an angel’s face.” 
 
 She then raised her own child in her arms. The little 
 girl was- nearly three years old, and a greater contrast to 
 the dark-featured Rita could not have been found. She was 
 small, but every little limb was most exquisitely shaped. 
 The head was one that Raphael would have sketched for a 
 child-angel, running over with golden curls; a fair, spirit- 
 ual face, bearing even then an impress of high-bred re- 
 finement; delicate white arms and hands, fair as a lily, and 
 exquisitely shaped. 
 
 As the lady held the child she kissed the sweet face with 
 a passionate love pitiful to see. 
 
 “We are three Margarets,” she said, with a smile. 
 “ You must call my darling * Daisy,’ nurse — she looks like 
 a pretty pale flower — 4 Daisy Howard;’ and some time I 
 will surprise her by giving her a name far prettier than 
 that — her own. Rita, you will be kind to Daisy, will you 
 not?” 
 
 The two children played upon the grass together, while 
 the lady in rapid, nervous words continued her instruc- 
 tions. 
 
 “ I have brought you forty pounds, nurse,” she said. 
 “ As soon as I reach India I will send you mom. Spare no 
 expense over my child. Let her be daintily dressed and 
 cared for. I have had a portrait takei^ of her — three, in 
 fact. One is for her papa, one for myaelf, and to-night, 
 or to-morrow, before leaving, 1 will send you the other.” 
 
 There was a sharp ring of pain in the lady’s voice, as 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 13 
 
 she continued: “ I have a locket for her. It contains her 
 father's hair and mine, with* our initials — M. and A. — 
 intwined. I shall leave her this ring. My husband gave 
 it to me the night before he went. It is of rare pearls; 
 and the motto inside it says, 6 No love out of this ring.' 
 And oh, nurse," she continued, bursting into a wild pas- 
 sion of weeping, “ take care of her! Do not let her forget 
 me. Morning and night let her fold her little hands and 
 pray for the loving mother so far away." 
 
 “ That she shall do," said the nurse, gently. 
 
 “ Three years will soon pass," said the sad young 
 mother. “ But I know now what people suffer when" they 
 come to die. Death can hold no deeper sorrow than this." 
 
 “You will see her again," said Mrs. Bivers, gently, 
 “ and she will soon learn to be happy." 
 
 “Happy without me!" sighed the lady. “But time 
 presses. Let me have her to myself, nurse, for one half 
 hour. I must leave you before ten." 
 
 She quitted the pretty, fragrant garden where her feet 
 were never more to tread, and followed the nurse into a 
 little bedroom. A white bed with white hangings stood 
 there, and the lady knelt by it, holding the child in her 
 arms. 
 
 “ Take care of her, ye heavenly guardians!" she cried. 
 “ It rends my heart to leave her. My darling," she con- 
 tinued, raising the little sweet face to her own, “ shall you 
 forget me? Let my kisses lie warm on your lips. Look at 
 me. Let my face sink into your heart. I shall come to 
 you in your dreams. In my dreams 1 shall feel the clasp 
 of your tender hands — the warm breath upon my cheek. I 
 shall hear by day and by night the music of your pretty 
 voice and the sound of your footsteps. My heart stays 
 with you. I call upon Heaven to guard my little child 
 while I am away!" 
 
 Her warm tears rained upon the wee golden head, and 
 then she began to murmur sweet, caressing words, such 
 
14 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 as only loving mothers use. The child's eyes closed, and 
 she laid it down upon the white bed. 
 
 J ust then the nurse came once more to the door. 
 
 i 6 It is growing late, my dear," she said. 
 
 “ My baby is asleep," replied the lady; “ 1 will leave 
 her now." 
 
 She bent over the little face, and for the last time 
 pressed her quivering lips fervently upon it. 
 
 “ Good-bye, my darling! good-bye, my pretty little 
 child!" she moaned, as she quitted the room. “ Do not 
 speak to me, nurse; the bitterness of death is upon me 
 — my heart is breaking!" 
 
 With quiet, womanly patience Mrs. Rivers stood until 
 the storm of weeping passed over and the pale, wild face 
 grew still. They spoke no word while the elder woman 
 wrapped the thin shawl round the childish figure. 
 
 “ Shall I go with you, my dear, to the inn?" she asked, 
 gently. 
 
 “ No; do not leave the children," replied the lady; 
 “ I shall be better alone." 
 
 She bent her head on the nurse's shoulder, then kissed 
 her face with lips so white and cold they startled her old 
 friend. She said nothing; her sorrow was too deep for 
 words. 
 
 “ Tell me what ship you sail in?" asked Mrs. Rivers. 
 “ Our doctor takes the papers, and he will know when 
 it reaches India. " 
 
 “It is called the ‘Ocean Queen,' " replied the lady; 
 “ it sails to-morrow. 1 shall write to you by every mail, 
 nurse, and you must do the same to me; and in three 
 years' time, should Providence will it, I shall return, and 
 she will not have forgotten me." 
 
 “ She will not forget you, my dear; she will see your 
 face every night in her dreams," said Mrs. Rivers. “ God 
 speed you and send you back to us in safety." 
 
 The lady lingered for a few minutes near the cottage 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 15 
 
 door, longing to look once more at the sleeping child; but 
 as she stood, the church clock chimed the hour of ten, and 
 she turned with rapid steps to walk down the lane. She 
 could weep alone there, and call her baby's name. There 
 was no more need to repress the bitter sorrow — the sighs 
 and tears that could not be controlled. 
 
 The last memory that lived with the sad young mother 
 was of the starlit sky and the fragrant green lane. She 
 walked on rapidly; and having reached the little inn, where 
 the carriage was waiting for her, she immediately took her 
 departure. 
 
 On the following day the postman brought a little packet 
 to Bosemary Cottage. Mrs. Eivers opened it, and cried 
 out with delight at the pretty picture it contained. 46 Daisy's 
 portrait," was written on it; 44 sent by her mother, June 
 16th, 18 — The picture of a sweetly pretty little face 
 with blue eyes and a beautiful head running over with 
 golden curls. There was a long letter containing many 
 directions, one of which was that the golden curls should 
 not be cut, but should be allowed to grow. 
 
 Mrs. Eivers took the little portrait, and, reaching the 
 Bible from the shelf, placed .it there with the letter. 
 Nothing warned her, as she did so, that by this simple act 
 she was in some measure shaping the destiny of three lives. 
 Both letter and picture lay there for many years; they 
 were not seen again until the night when the fate of Daisy 
 and Eita trembled in the balance. 
 
 It is a strange story, but one hears of stranger every 
 day. Sixteen years ago, Margaret Howard, as she called 
 herself, was the petted, indulged heiress of Stephen Arle, 
 a rich merchant, who lived in one of the southern counties 
 of England. Susan Eivers was her nurse, and very dearly 
 did she love the pretty child of whom she had charge. 
 
 During all these years Susan Eivers never lost sight of 
 her mistress and little Margaret.! She went occasionally 
 to see them, and was not happy or contented unless she 
 
16 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 heard, at stated times, from them. But Susan married 
 soon after Mrs. Arle died, and went away to Deepdale. 
 She married her cousin, a handsome, dark-eyed sailor, 
 who had loved her for many years. 
 
 Margaret wrote to tell her old nurse she was married, 
 and again when her baby was born; but Susan Rifers had 
 cares and sorrows of her own. Her husband died, and she 
 mourned long for him. He left a little fortune behind him 
 — just sufficient to keep his wife and child in comfort. 
 
 When the nurse heard again from Margaret, it was to ask 
 if she would take charge of her child, the result of which 
 has been detailed. 
 
 When Captain Arthur’s wife set sail in the “ Ocean 
 Queen , 99 no one in the world knew to whom she had con- 
 fided her little daughter except Mrs. Markham, a widow, 
 who lived as servant in her house. Mrs. Markham was 
 sorry to leave the gentle young mistress who had been 
 so kind to her; but she was going to join her brother in 
 America. She left England the day after the 44 Ocean 
 Queen 99 sailed for India. The tragic story of Lord Lisle’s 
 daughter turned upon this simple incident. Had Mrs. 
 Markham remained in England it would never have been 
 written. 
 
 The captain’s young wife thought there would be plenty 
 of time when she reached India for telling her husband all 
 about Nurse Rivers and the pretty home at Deepdale where 
 she had left her little child. 
 
 The sea holds many secrets; one of them is how the 
 64 Ocean Queen ” was lost. It sailed from England with 
 more than two hundred souls on board and a valuable 
 cargo. It was wrecked in the vast Pacific Ocean — no one 
 knew where or how. The good ship 4 4 Trident 99 picked 
 up a board still bearing the proud name of 44 Ocean 
 Queen;” but the secret of the mighty deep was never 
 told. None knew what cruel storms and driving winds 
 
# LORD LISLE’S LAUGHTER. 17 
 
 had sent the vessel to its ruin. No one heard the agonized 
 cries for help that died on the vast, solitary ocean. 
 
 One of the last who perished was a lady with a sweet, sad 
 face turned in mute supplication to the darkling sky; one 
 whose last memory was of a brave countenance she was 
 never more to see; of a childish voice she was never more 
 to hear; of a little golden head never more to be pillowed on 
 her breast; of a sunny garden where so lately she had sat 
 with the child in her arms; of the fragrant green- lane 
 and the starlit night when she had wept aloud for the little 
 one who was never to call her mother again. 
 
 It was long before the loss of the “ Ocean Queen ” 
 was known in England or in India. To Captain Arthur 
 Wyverne, lying ill under the burning sun, longing for the 
 wife whose presence would bring him new life, it proved 
 almost a death-blow. But sorrow and despair were un- 
 availing now. The sea kept its own secret; the wind and 
 waves chanted a requiem over those who had perished with 
 the ill-fated vessel. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 The news reached Deepdale at last. The day came 
 when the good nurse’s friend, the doctor, called upon 
 her and showed her the paragraph in the paper that told 
 how the 46 Ocean Queen ” was lost, and in what latitude the 
 “Trident” found some portion of the wreck floating on 
 the ocean. 
 
 It seemed incredible to Mrs. Eivers that one whom she 
 had tenderly nursed and loved should have met with so 
 tragic a fate; that the bright, hopeful life should end in 
 the spring-tide of beauty. She took little Daisy in her 
 a^ms, and promised she would take her mother’s place, 
 and the little one smiled at her kisses and tears, all uncon- 
 scious of the loss no earthly love could ever repair. 
 
18 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Months rolled on and no tidings came to Mrs. Bivers. 
 No one wrote about the child; no one claimed it. From 
 over the Indian seas there came no anxious word from 
 an anxious father. Months became years, and the silence 
 was still unbroken. She could not write to Daisy’s father, 
 for she knew nothing of his name or address. At length 
 Mrs. Bivers felt sure that one of the two things had hap- 
 pened. Either the marriage had not been a legal one, and 
 the captain neither wished nor intended to claim his child, 
 or he was dead, and no one else knew of its existence. 
 
 When two years had passed away, the good widow gave 
 up all thoughts of hearing from any one, or of her having 
 to give up the child she loved dearly as her own. She 
 never spoke to little Daisy of the sad young mother who 
 had brought her to Deepdale. She never named the brave 
 soldier-father far away under the hot Indian skies. Daisy, 
 who never forgot the word, called the nurse “ mamma,” 
 and was brought up as one of Susan Bivers’s own children. 
 At times she asked herself was this silence wise, and om 
 look at the child’s happy face convinced her it was so. 
 Why disturb the sweet, happy content by speaking of hopes 
 and dreams that might never be realized? Daisy was 
 happy, loving Mrs. Bives as her mother and the beautiful, 
 vivacious Bita as her sister. 
 
 So Daisy grew — all unconscious of her own story. They 
 lived in the little cottage at Deepciale until Daisy was 
 seven years old. Then some little accession of fortune 
 came to the widow. An old uncle died, leaving her a 
 small house and a few hundred pounds; and they left 
 Deepdale to go to Queen’s Lynne, on the Norfolk coast, 
 where the property was situated. 
 
 It was a great change from the sunny village nestling in 
 the Devonshire hills to the bleak, bare coast and the deep, 
 surging sea. The children disliked it at first; they missed 
 the fragrant garden, the green meadows, and fair flowers. 
 But the sea-shore had its charms — the long, yellow sands 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 19 
 
 — the wonder of shell and weed — the restless wares that 
 rolled in and out! 
 
 There was another great advantage that Mrs. Hirers 
 had not overlooked. At Queen's Lynne there were schools, 
 where, at a moderate rate, it was possible to procure a 
 really good and sound education for her children. She 
 wished them both to be well educated and lady-like. 
 Whatever might be Daisy's future, she ought to receive 
 the best training she could afford her; then, if ever she 
 were claimed by those who had a right to her, she could 
 take her place among them without shame. As for Eita, 
 she gave promise of such magnificent beauty that her 
 mother began to form ambitious hopes and plans for 
 her. 
 
 Mrs. Eivers had been for years at a good school herself, 
 where she had received a plain, sensible education. She 
 spoke well and grammatically. Quick to learn, she had 
 caught up the refined tone and accent of her mistress. 
 Listening to Eita and Daisy, one felt sure they had been 
 accustomed to speak with intelligent people. There was 
 nothing broad or provincial in their accent. Both were 
 gifted with musical voices — Eita's, rich, clear, and ringing; 
 Daisy's, sweet as the murmur of the summer wind. 
 
 The house left to Mrs. Eivers was known as Eooks' 
 Nest; so called from the fact that near the cottage stood a 
 fine group of trees wherein the rooks for many long years 
 had built their nests. The new tenant was looked upon as 
 a most respectable woman — not admissible among “ the 
 gentry " of Queen's Lynne, but certainly much superior 
 to the “ poorer class." The widow had quite enough to do 
 in managing her household; it was sometimes hard work 
 to pay her way and provide all that was wanted for the two 
 young girls. 
 
 The years passed over, and no word ever came of little 
 Daisy's friends. The two girls went to school; they were 
 both quick, and learned rapidly; but there was a great dif« 
 
20 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ference in their motives. Daisy loved study for its own 
 sake. Eita looked upon it as a means to an end. 
 
 They did not resemble each other in any way, these two 
 who believed themselves to be sisters.- In describing Eita 
 people always called her “beautiful;” in speaking of 
 Daisy one invariably characterized her as “sweet.” She 
 had a fair, spiritual face, with calm, clear brows, and ten- 
 der violet eyes full of truth and purity; her pure, sensitive 
 lips had a smile sweet as a sunbeam; her golden hair 
 rippled over white dimpled shoulders; there was an air of 
 graceful, high-bred refinement about her that did not be- 
 long to the more beautiful Eita. 
 
 There was nothing worldly in Daisy. She loved her 
 adopted mother, quite believing she was her own. She 
 was proud of her brilliant sister, and perfectly satisfied 
 with her station of life. She had no longing for rich dresses 
 and rare jewels; she wished for books and music. She 
 never felt jealous or envious when the “ Lynne Gazette ” 
 told of gay balls and fetes in which she had no share. 
 The world, as yet, had not touched her — its warm, pas- 
 sionate breath had never quickened her pulse or flushed 
 her face. 
 
 There was one thing about her that good Mrs. Eivers 
 would fain have seen altered — that was a quiet gravity 
 that at times almost amounted to sadness. At times, 
 too, Daisy startled ( her nurse. 
 
 “Mother!” she said one morning, suddenly, “have I 
 ever seen in my life a lady with a beautiful though sad 
 face, and mournful, loving eyes? I dream so often of 
 such a face, I must have seen it.” 
 
 Mrs. Eivers was more startled than she cared to own, 
 
 “ 1 can not tell, my dear,” she replied. “ Dreams are 
 all nonsense.” 
 
 “ 1 used to dream when I was quite a little girl about 
 that same face,” said Daisy, “years ago, before we left 
 Deepdale; and 1 dream of it still. It grows more 
 
 vague 
 
 JS 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 21 
 
 and indistinct though, and seems to smile more sadly every 
 rime the dream comes.” 
 
 “ Why did you never tell me of it before?” 
 
 4 1 can not tell. I heard you say so often that dreams 
 were all nonsense,” she replied; 44 but I must have seen 
 the picture of such a face some time.” 
 
 It was quite possible that the child still dreamed of her 
 mother. She was nearly three years old when that mother 
 left her to find death in the deep sea. The dream might 
 return; the image or memory of the face might still re- 
 main in the child’s mind, returning more vividly in her 
 sleeping than in her waking hours. 
 
 The question made Nurse Rivers again ask herself 
 whether she ought to tell the young girl the true story of 
 her life. 
 
 44 Not yet,” she said — 44 not yet! There will be tears 
 enough and sorrow enough in the years to come. I will 
 not awaken her yet.” 
 
 When Daisy was sixteen, an offer was made to her that 
 pleased her adopted mother. The lady superintendent of 
 a large school in Queen’s Lynne, struck with her lady-like 
 demeanor, modest manners, and quick intelligence, offered 
 her a situation as junior teacher in her school. In place 
 of salary she was to receive lessons in music, drawing, 
 and French. Simple, innocent Daisy thought herself in 
 fairy-land. Rita scornfully declared she would not have 
 gone if Miss Toffies had offered her a hundred a year. 
 
 44 Our ways in life will never be the same, Daisy,” said 
 the young beauty. 44 You have no ambition.” 
 
 So Daisy went to Miss Toffies, thereby, in some measure, 
 sealing her own fate. The school was some three miles 
 distant, and she was allowed to go home only at stated in- 
 tervals. There she quickly learned all that Miss Toffies 
 could teach. When Daisy reached her nineteenth year 
 she was both educated and accomplished, and Mrs. Rivens 
 
22 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 looked with proud satisfaction upon the girl whom sh& 
 loved dearly as her own child. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 One lovely evening, toward the end of August, a young 
 girl walked slowly down the long stretch of yellow sand. 
 Far out in the distance lay the broad blue sea. The waves 
 rose with a gentle murmur and fell with a musical ripple; 
 the sky was all aflame with gorgeous colors. But neither 
 the beauty of color nor sound made any impression upon 
 the young girl. Never once were her eyes turned to the 
 sky or the sea— never once did she pause and listen to the 
 faint music of the wind and waves. 
 
 Yet that countenance should have belonged to one 
 capable of appreciating both. It is seldom that under our 
 cold northern sky a face of such wondrous loveliness is 
 seen. It belonged rather to the daughters of sunny Spain. 
 
 It was a face that drew all eyes and charmed all hearts 
 —so bright and glowing, so piquant and charming. Such 
 beauty might have been the dowry of a queen. Nature, in 
 her caprice, had lavished it upon Mrs. Rivers’s only child. 
 The slender, girlish figure was graceful and dignified; but 
 Margaret Rivers lacked, with all her beauty, the high-bred 
 air of refinement that characterized her sister Daisy. 
 
 The two girls were as dissimilar in mind as in person. 
 Rita was proud to an inordinate degree of her beauty. 
 A vain longing for riches and grandeur consumed her. 
 She longed for all that wealth can procure — for rich dresses 
 and costly jewels. Would she never attend balls and 
 parties? Ah! if she were but rich! — if she could but go 
 among the gay and fashionable! There was no one in looks 
 to compare with her. What was the use of such a face 
 and such a figure if she were to live always unknown at 
 Rooks’ Nest? If she could but once gain admittance into 
 the great world, these would soon lie at her feet! Rich 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 23 
 
 noblemen often married for beauty; so, at least, romances 
 said. Who could tell what might be in store for her? 
 Perhaps wealth — titled honors. She might even live to be 
 one of the queens of that gay world where she longed to 
 shine! 
 
 All these thoughts rushed through the vain, worldly 
 heart of Rita as she strolled that summer evening along 
 the sands. Margaret Rivers had fire, passion, force, and a 
 certain kind of cleverness; but of truth and high principle, 
 of true nobility of soul, she had none. 
 
 Day by day she sat in the little garden that looked down 
 the high-road, longing, with all the force of her vain, pas- 
 sionate heart, for something to happen which should en- 
 able her to gratify her wishes. People looked at the 
 handsome, restless face, and wondered at its expression. 
 
 Mrs. Rivers did not understand her own child. She 
 looked wistfully sometimes at the proud girl, and thought 
 how her life was wasted in the solitude of Rooks’ Nest. 
 But of the dreams and aspirations— the hopes and longings 
 that filled her daughter’s heart — she knew nothing. 
 
 A change came at last for Margaret Rivers — not love — at 
 least, not love in its highest, holiest sense of the word; 
 but there came a break in the monotony of her life. 
 
 One morning as she was walking from her home to 
 Queen’s Lynne, she met a handsome young man, with one 
 of the few young girls she knew. He looked admiringly at 
 Rita, to whom his companion introduced him. All three 
 went to Queen’s Lynne together; and, during that walk, 
 Rita learned sufficient to give her IT great interest in all 
 that concerned Ralph Ashton. He was a first mate; and, 
 although young, there was no one on the coast so skillful 
 or so trustworthy as he. He told strange stories of for- 
 eign countries that he had visited; of gold easily earned 
 and lavishly spent; of wealth that he might accumulate il 
 lie only cared to do so. 
 
*4 LOUD LISLE’S DAmHTER. 
 
 Then Rita looked at him. Rich— -he might be rich, if h& 
 had any motive for saving and making money. 
 
 “ I would give/’ she said, firmly, “anything in this 
 world for money. I am tired of living here by the rest- 
 less, noisy sea. I long to see life as others see it. 1 should 
 like to wear sweeping dresses and gleaming jewels. ” 
 
 He interrupted her eagerly: 
 
 “ So you ought to do — so you will,” he said. “All that 
 is fairest and brightest in this world ought to be laid at your 
 feet. Ah, if it were but mine!” 
 
 Rita smiled, but the words sunk deeply into her heart. 
 She met Ralph Ashton again and again — sometimes on the 
 shady high-road and sometimes by the sea-shore. She 
 heeded little the passionate love he had for her, but she 
 thought much of his future. If he were so skillful and 
 clever, if the secrets of deep seas were known to him, and 
 he could trade upon them, it was possible that in time he 
 might be rich and give her her heart’s desire. It was true 
 some people spoke strangely o£ him, and hinted at large 
 cargoes run in during the dead of night, and prophesied 
 that Ralph Ashton’s money would never do him any good. 
 But Rita heeded that as little as she did the fierce, pas- 
 sionate love that had mastered him, and brought him a 
 slave to her feet. 
 
 Not one word did she ever say to her mother or Daisy 
 relative to this strange lover, with his dark, handsome face 
 and musical voice. She felt instinctively that Daisy would 
 not like him, and she had once heard her own mother speak 
 of him as an adventurer. She met him, not because she 
 liked him, but because she liked the flattery of his love. 
 It was pleasant to sit on the shore while he told her of the 
 time when they should go together to bright, far-off lands, 
 where she would be looked upon as a queen — how he 
 would work for her, toil for her, slave for her until every 
 wish of her heart was gratified. 
 
 And when he, loving her with all the strength of his 
 
loud lisle’s daughter. 25 
 
 wild nature, asked her to be his wife, she did not promise 
 at first, but she did not refuse. She wanted time to con- 
 sider, and as the monotonous weeks passed on and nothing 
 happened, she began to think that marrying Ralph Ashton 
 was the wisest thing she could do. He promised to take 
 her far away from these parts. Whether he believed him- 
 self that he could accomplish all he promised to do no 
 one can say; but she believed it because she wished it. 
 
 Ralph Ashton was to be pitied. He might have occasion- 
 ally aided in some smuggling expedition, but in his love for 
 Rita he was sincere and honest. And when, one summer 
 evening, after much pleading, the haughty lips smiled and 
 said, “ Yes,” genuine tears fell from his eyes. 
 
 “ I will make you so happy, my darling/ ’ he said; 
 “ every wish of your heart shall be gratified. You love 
 me, Rita, do you not?” 
 
 “ Yes,”.she said, gently, “ I love you.” But, even as 
 she spoke, her thoughts were busy with the future, and 
 the one haunting question never satisfactorily answered, 
 “ Could she have done better?” And while Ralph poured 
 out his love in words that must have touched another 
 heart, she went over again all the old arguments and rea- 
 sons that had decided her upon accepting him. 
 
 It was arranged between them that nothing should be 
 said at present to Mrs. Rivers. The marriage could not 
 take place for the next year and a half. In one month 
 Ralph was going on a voyage — one that would bring in 
 plenty of money; it was not worth while mentioning the 
 engagement until that voyage was over. 
 
 “ But you will be true to me, Rita?” said he. “Re- 
 member, you hold my life and soul in your hands.” 
 
 “ I will be true,” she said, calmly. 
 
 He was absent after that for three days; but all Rita’s 
 misgivings were set at rest on his return. He had brought 
 her a “wedding present,” he called it. How much of 
 his hard earnings had been spent on it, he knew best. 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 25 
 
 They met as usual on the sands, and he put into her hands 
 a small morocco case. Eita opened it. and, with a cry of 
 delight, saw a pair of diamond ear-rings that shone with 
 a light that dazzled her eyes. A diamond ring lay near 
 them, and Ealph placed it on her finger. 
 
 ‘ 6 That is our betrothal ring/* he said, “ and the time 
 will come when you shall wear as many diamonds as you 
 like. Let me place these ear-drops in your ears. ” 
 
 The diamonds were not brighter or more full of fire 
 than the dark eyes raised in mute wonder and startled 
 admiration to his face. 
 
 “ Oh, Ealph !” she said, “how lovely, how costly! 1 
 never thought I should have a real diamond of my own.” 
 
 She was so pleased, and looked so beautiful in her joy, 
 that Ealph Ashton would gladly have parted with all he 
 had in the world for such a look. The gems had well- 
 nigh emptied his purse; still, he thought not, cared not. 
 
 She never gave one thought to any sacrifice he might 
 have made to procure so costly a present for her, or of the 
 love that had actuated him; she only gloried in her own 
 bright, vivid beauty, and how the jewels would increase it. 
 
 Ealph Ashton had but another fortnight to remain in 
 England; and one evening, when the tide was out and the 
 sun setting he went to meet Eita on the sands. As the 
 time approached for his departure, something like fear and 
 doubt took possession of his mind. 
 
 He began to wonder if Eita would be true to him during 
 his absence. She who loved wealth and longed for grand- 
 eur — would she be true if a lover should come with gold 
 and fortune? A fierce half doubt took hold of him and 
 blanched his dark face. For many months they had met 
 on the sands, and he had told her of his love in words that 
 would have burned their way to another heart; but he did 
 not remember that she had ever blushed, or that her proud 
 face had ever softened for him. “ He would see her this 
 evening,” he said to himself; “and bind her to him by 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 2? 
 
 A vow so solemn, that she, who feared little, should fear 
 to break it.” For two whole days he had not seen her.’ 
 Mrs. Eivers lay ill, and her daughter could not leave the 
 house; but to-night she had promised to come, and he 
 knew she would keep her word. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The evening had come, and Ralph Ashton proceeded to 
 the sea-shore to meet the haughty beauty he so passionately 
 loved, and to bind her, if possible, to a vow of constancy 
 from which she should never swerve. The tide was out, 
 and the sun was setting behind a red bank of cloud. 
 
 Rita saw her lover approaching; she noted the anxious, 
 depressed look on the face usually so bright and hopeful. 
 
 44 I had great difficulty in getting away,” she said; 
 44 my mother is still very far from well; but you wanted 
 me, and 1 am here. Tell me quickly what it is — my 
 time must be short. ” 
 
 They sat down upon two large stones, and the waves 
 rolled in dreamily, noiselessly at their feet. 
 
 64 1 am not happy, Rita,” said he. 44 1 wish I could 
 stay near you, you are so enchanting. Some one is sure to 
 try and steal you from me while I am away.” 
 
 44 There is not much to fear,” she replied, with a smile 
 and a sigh. 
 
 44 Even if it should be so,” he continued, 44 you would be 
 constant to me, would you not, Rita?” 
 
 There was not a quiver on the proud lips that said 
 calmly: 
 
 44 Of course I should, Ralph;” and her eyes, still bent 
 on the waves, never sought his. 
 
 44 Tell me so in another tone of voice,” he cried; 44 look 
 at me as though you loved me! It is a terrible thing to 
 win the whole of a man’s heart, as you have won the whole 
 of mine. It would be dangerous to deceive me, Rita; my 
 
2 8 LORI) lisle’s daughter. 
 
 whole life and love lie at your feet. I, who fear nothing— 
 the wildest storm never daunted me — tremble at one word 
 or look of yours. You are my own, and I am yours. Deal 
 gently with me — tell me you love me/’ 
 
 44 You know it, Ralph,” she said, more gently, for the 
 passion of his words alarmed her, hut he listened in vain 
 for the true ring in that musical voice—it was not there. 
 
 “I try to believe it,” he said; 44 if I were to doubt it 
 I should go mad. I could not live without you, Rita; the 
 world would be a dreary blank. Were you to die, my 
 darling, I could not survive you. If you deceived me—” 
 
 44 What should you do?” she asked. 
 
 44 1 would follow you through the wide world,” he said, 
 44 and when I found you, as truly as the sun sets, 1 would 
 kill you, Rita, and thus avenge myself.” 
 
 In after-years she remembered his words; in the most 
 terrible hour of her life they came back to her, and she 
 knew he meant what he had said. 
 
 44 Do not talk in that wild way, Ralph,” she said; 44 you 
 alarm me.” 
 
 In one moment the fierce look had left his face, and he 
 was himself again. 
 
 44 Forgive me, Rita,” he said, humbly; 44 the very 
 thought drives me to despair. You will be true to me, 
 will you not, darling? When you are my wife I shall be 
 a good man. I must do something for the kind Heaven 
 that gives me my treasure. It is not only my heart, but 
 my soul, that you hold in your hands. Deal gently with 
 me. I have staked all my life on one throw.” 
 
 44 When do you go?” she asked. His unusual serious- 
 ness dismayed her. She was there to listen to praises, not 
 threats. 
 
 44 In ten days,” he said, looking almost wistfully in that 
 wondrous face, but no change, no cloud came over it; 
 44 and you have promised me, Rita, we shall be married on 
 the first week of my return. ” 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 99 
 
 “ 1 have promised/' she said, “ and I will keep my 
 word. " 
 
 ' He looked over the wide sea, and again to the shining 
 sky. 
 
 “ Rita," he said, suddenly, “ I shall bind you to me 
 by a vow. You are mine before Heaven. Swear to me 
 that you will never care for another, and that until you die 
 you will be faithful to me. " 
 
 She would have hesitated, but there was a look in his 
 face that compelled her to obedience. The bloom faded 
 from her countenance as she repeated after him words 
 so solemn her whole soul was subdued by their strength. 
 
 “ There/' said Ralph Ashton, releasing her hands, “ I 
 am quite satisfied. Neither you nor any other woman 
 breathing dare break such an oath as that." 
 
 Long after Ralph Ashton left her Margaret Rivers sat 
 ^dreaming by the sea— not of the fierce, true love she had 
 won — not of the strong, passionate heart that lay i r her 
 hand — not of the soul she might help to save— but of the 
 old, tormenting doubt: 64 Had she done the best she 
 could?" For the first time that evening she realized what 
 she had done. Ralph Ashton's hold upon her was for life. 
 He would never let her go. Had she done the best she 
 could? True, he made money — he would one day, per- 
 haps, be rich in a certain kind of way — but, after all, he 
 was not a gentleman. He had given her jewels; but com- 
 mon sense and reason forbade her ever to think he could 
 repeat the gift. All the visions and dreams he had won 
 her with seemed unreal now. Over and over again she 
 asked herself if, with her glorious dower of beauty, she had 
 done her best. 
 
 No warning came in the mysterious voice of the sea, or 
 in the music of the summer night, to tell her that on this 
 very evening the crisis of her life had begun. 
 
 She sat watching the waves until the tide began to roll 
 in more quickly, and the light faded in the western sky. 
 
so 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Then Rita, rousing herself from her dreams, went slow- 
 ly home. Rooks 5 Nest is some distance from Queen's 
 Lynne, and the evening had grown dark before she reached 
 home. 
 
 All visions were forgotten when she stood once more in 
 her mother’s house. Mrs. Rivers had long been ailing. 
 For some days the doctor had been attending her, but did 
 not say she was in any immediate danger. When Rita left 
 her that evening to meet her lover, one of her neighbors 
 offered to sit with her while the young girl was out. This 
 same woman met her now at the door, with a pale, scared 
 face. 
 
 “ Miss Rita," she cried, “ where have you been? Your 
 mother has been taken so ill 1 thought you would never 
 see her again." 
 
 And when Rita stood by her mother's bedside, and saw 
 the fatal change that had come over the kindly, homely 
 face,^tears of genuine sorrow filled her eyes. 
 
 “ Your mother is very ill," said the doctor, gently. 
 “ The immediate danger seems to have passed, but she 
 must be carefully watched all night, and if the least 
 change takes place send for me." 
 
 There were many offers of assistance, but Rita saw 
 her mother wished to be left alone with her. In her cool, 
 grand way, she bade “ good-night " to those who would 
 fain have lingered. She arranged the sick-room, shaded 
 the lamp so that the light should not fall on her mother's 
 face, prepared cooling drinks, and then took her seat by 
 her dying mother's side. 
 
 “Rita," said the faint, changed voice, “is it too late 
 to send for Daisy? I want to see her. I shall not live 
 until the sun rises to-morrow. I feel death-cold at my 
 heart, and I must see Daisy before I die." 
 
 “ I will do my best," said Rita, gently; “ but you will 
 not die yet, mother." 
 
 “ I know, child," said the sick woman. “ I can feel 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 31 
 
 that the end of my life has come. I shall have seen your 
 father again before to-morrow dawns, Eita. A doctor’s 
 words signify nothing; they can not know. I feel it, 
 and I must see Daisy.” 
 
 But midnight had struck before a messenger could be 
 found to go for Daisy. It was a long walk there, and Eita 
 knew the summer morning would dawn before her sister 
 could reach home. She told her mother so; and Susan 
 Kivers, turning her pallid face to the wall, moaned aloud. 
 
 44 Are we quite alone, Eita?” asked the sick woman, in 
 a low, faint voice. 
 
 “ Quite alone, mother,” said the young girl. The 
 moonbeams peeped in at the window, throwing long lines 
 of silver light on the floor; the deep, solemn hush of the 
 night was unbroken, save by the murmur of the wind 
 and the distant breaking of the waves. Margaret Eivers 
 never forgot that night — its solemn silence and dim light. 
 
 “ I have a secret, Eita,” said the faint voice. 44 I 
 have held it many years. I must see Daisy before I die, 
 and tell it to her. If she does not come, I must tell it to 
 you; and you must hold it in charge, sacredly, as I have 
 done.*” 
 
 The long night wore on, and Daisy did not come. 
 
 “ Eita,” said the dying woman, 66 unlock that little box 
 for me, and take out the parcel that lies there.” 
 
 Eita obeyed; her mother’s trembling fingers could not 
 unfasten the string; she opened it— and there lay a ring of 
 pearls, a locket with fair and dark hair intwined, the 
 initials 64 M ” and 44 A ” in the center; with them lay a 
 packet of letters, written in a fair, delicate hand. 
 
 64 Those are Daisy’s,” said Susan; 44 give them to her. 
 Bend down, Eita— lower still— while I tell you the secret 
 I have kept for fifteen y&ars. Daisy is not my child, Eita; 
 she is not your own sister, as you have always believed her 
 to be.” 
 
 She paused, for Eita cried out in astonishment. 
 
32 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 “ Are you dreaming, mother?” she said. 
 
 “ No,” replied Mrs. Eivers; “ these things prove my 
 story is no dream. Look in the register at St. John’s, in 
 Deepdale; there you will find I have only one child — Mar- 
 garet, my only daughter. Daisy is no child of mine.” 
 
 “ Who is she?” asked Rita, in utter amazement. 
 
 “ That is the story I must tell you; and you must 
 repeat every word to her, if — if I do not see her again. 
 I have never spoken to you much of my early life, Rita,” 
 continued her mother, “ and my silence has been for 
 Daisy’s sake. My parents were respectable west-country 
 people, who sent me to school, and did their best for me. 
 When they died, I went out to service. I never had but 
 one place, and that was at Mr. Arle’s — a rich merchant 
 who lived in Hampshire. He had one daughter. Miss 
 Margaret Arle; and, although 1 was but sixteen, the entire 
 charge of her was intrusted to me.” 
 
 Mrs. Rivvers then proceeded to tell her daughter all 
 the particulars relative to the bankruptcy and death of 
 Miss Arle’s father; of the young lady’s marriage; and the 
 leaving of her child in her charge, as already unfolded to 
 the reader. 
 
 “ She was,” concluded the mother, “ but a little child 
 when we left Deepdale and came to Queen’s Lynne. For 
 my dead mistress’s sake, I have kept the secret. No one 
 ever dreams that Daisy is other than my own child — no 
 one suspects it. I tell you now, Rita, for I shall see her 
 mother in another world, and she will ask me if I have 
 done my best. ” 
 
 CHAPTER Yl. 
 
 There was silence for some minutes, and Mrs. Rivers’s 
 voice had grown faint and exhausted. Rita sat lost in 
 bewildered surprise. 
 
 “ And what am I to do, mother?” she asked. 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 33 
 
 “ Give these to Daisy/’ she replied; “this locket and 
 ring, with the letters. Tell her the story I have told you. 
 Tell her I have no clew to her father’s name, save that 
 he was called Captain Arthur, and that his regiment was 
 in India in 18 — . Perhaps he died there. If ever Daisy 
 wins friends, they will make inquiries for her; but if she 
 finds the marriage was not a legal one, tell her I charge 
 her for her dead mother’s sake to let the story die, so 
 that no taint may be upon Margaret Arle’s name. You 
 will give her these messages faithfully, Rita? Promise 
 me.” 
 
 “ I will not omit one word,” replied her daughter, 
 breathlessly. 
 
 “ For you,” said the dying woman, “ I have no fear. 
 This little house will always be your own. You will have 
 money sufficient to support you. Had Heaven so willed it, 
 I should like to have lived long enough to hold your 
 children in my arms. I have been very proud of your 
 beauty, child; but things look so different in the strong 
 light of eternity. 1 have often thought you proud and 
 vain. Ah, Rita! you will lie some day where I am lying 
 now — remember it is all vanity! Do not fix your heart on 
 the world’s honors and riches. Ah, me, that pain! I 
 shall not see Daisy again, kiss her for me, and tell her how 
 well 1 love her.” 
 
 Even as she uttered the words an awful, gray pallor set- 
 tled on her face, and Rita went hastily to summon aid. 
 But no human help could avail for Mrs. Rivers — the fiat 
 had gone ' forth. The doctor was summoned, friends 
 came, and stood near; the faithful heart was fast nearing 
 its rest. She did not speak again. In the faint morning 
 light, when Daisy came and bent over her, no look of 
 recognition shone in the dim eyes; they were closed to all 
 earthly things. 
 
 Before Mrs. Rivers died — before Daisy came home— Rita 
 
34 
 
 LORD LISLE S DAUGHTER. 
 
 gathered the contents of the little parcel together* and 
 placed them carefully in her own box. 
 
 “ There will be time enough for telling her that strange 
 story,” she thought. 
 
 And Daisy, all unconscious, knelt by her supposed moth- 
 er^ side. She closed the kind eyes that had always looked 
 tenderly on her, and when she knew that death had claimed 
 his own, she wept bitter tears of sorrow. Yet, as she 
 gazed upon the white, cold face, she felt, in some strange 
 way, it was not part of herself that lay there. 
 
 Friends and neighbors comforted the two orphan girls, 
 iow left utterly alone. Daisy felt as though her heart 
 would break, and wondered at the strange, dreamy look 
 on Rita’s face. There was not much time for weeping, 
 preparations had to be made for the funeral. Poor Mrs. 
 Rivers’s only friend in Deepdale, an old widow lady, Mrs. 
 Feme, took up her abode at the cottage, where mourning 
 dresses and arrangements for the funeral deepened the 
 gloom of the young girls. 
 
 Rita said to herself that there was no opportunity of tell- 
 ing Daisy the story until after the funeral. As she 
 watched her adopted sister a feeling of envy crept into her 
 heart. For the first time, she was struck by the difference 
 between Daisy and herself. She noted the air of high- 
 bred refinement; the spiritual expression of the sweet, 
 pure face; the little hands, so white and beautifully formed; 
 the graceful symmetry of the slight, girlish figure. Could 
 it be possible that this girl, whom she had always looked 
 down upon as her younger and inferior sister, might turn 
 out to be the child of a rich and noble father? Either she 
 was that or her very birth was a shame and disgrace. 
 Which could it be? 
 
 Her mother had entertained cruel doubts; could they 
 have been just ones? In the dead silence of the night Rita 
 rose and unlocked the box containing her trust. She read 
 Margaret Arle’s letters over and over again. Ah! there 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 m 
 
 could be no doubt, she spoke so proudly of her husband; 
 it had been a real marriage, Rita felt sure, and no mock 
 one. Whoever Captain Arthur might be, Daisy was his 
 legitimate child. What if he were a man of high position 
 as well as good birth? Then Daisy would be a lady— would 
 enter, by right, that gay world Rita thought paradise. 
 She would be rich and happy. Why had fate and fortune 
 favored her? Ah! would that Daisy had been Mrs. Rivers's 
 own child and she the captain's daughter! 
 
 Then, with the letters in her hand, she fell into a wak- 
 ing dream. If it had been so, she would never rest until 
 she had discovered him — she would search for him until 
 he was found. Then she would win his love. He would 
 surely be pleased with, and proud of her magnificent 
 beauty. Then all she had longed for would be hers. She 
 saw herself superbly dressed, with gleaming jewels, with 
 lovers sighing around her— with the gay, the great, and the 
 noble all offering her homage. The vain, worldly heart 
 was dazzled with the picture; but the cold reality came and 
 chilled her — all this was for Daisy, and not for herself. 
 
 With a deep sigh, she relocked the box, and went back 
 to the little room where Daisy slept. The moon shone 
 brightly; one of its silvery beams* touched Daisy's face, 
 lingering almost lovingly on the clear, calm brow and the 
 delicate, spiritual features. Rita bent over her, silently 
 wondering, until wonder became jealous pain, what the 
 future held in store for the sleeping girl. Suddenly, across 
 her face there came a strange expression, as of a wild, deep 
 thought; it lingered there, filling the dark eyes with 
 gloom. 
 
 She held out her hands in horror, as though trying to 
 drive it from her, but it would not go. 
 
 “Not now," she whispered to herself. “I will not 
 think of it now. * have to kiss my mother's face again. " 
 
 Yet the thought had a weird fascination for her. She 
 could not sleep, she could not rest; ideas crowded upon 
 
36 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 her almost against her will; plans and arrangempwts sug- 
 gested themselves to her. Early dawn found Margaret 
 Eivers pale and absorbed. 
 
 The sun rose, and the day was the one appointed for 
 Mrs. Rivers’s funeral. The two girls went together to the 
 darkened room, where she lay, and took their last fare- 
 well of her. Warm tears fell from Daisy’s eyes upon the 
 cold form she had always dearly loved; but no tears dimmed 
 the dark eyes that had so strange an expression. 
 
 The funeral was over; friends and neighbors had all 
 withdrawn, Mrs. Feme alone remaining. Daisy was pre- 
 paring to return to Miss Toffies ’s on the following morn- 
 ing, and still the secret was not told, the trust was unful- 
 filled; and the younger git] wondered why the elder one 
 shunned her, and what it was that clouded Rita’s face with 
 something deeper than sorrow. She little dreamed of the 
 fierce warfare going on in that vain, passionate heart; she 
 little knew that good and evil were fighting^ hard battle; 
 that her own destiny and Rita’s hung trembling in the bal- 
 ance. 
 
 That night, while Daisy slept, Rita watched and fought 
 the battle that decided the course of her life. For many 
 long hours the battle had raged, and evil was fast triumph- 
 ing over good. 
 
 She had never told the story; for on the night she gazed 
 with jealous envy on Daisy as she lay sleeping, a thought 
 came to her which burned its way into her heart, and 
 would not leave her. Daisy knew nothing of the secret. 
 No one in the wide world knew it but herself. There was 
 no proof except such as she held in her hands. Why not 
 put herself in Daisy’s place, and call herself Captain 
 Arthur’s daughter? Who would know? The only two 
 who could detect the imposition — Daisy’s mother and her 
 own — were both dead. 
 
 At first the thought that glanced through her mind 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 8? 
 
 shocked her; it was too base a betrayal of her mother’s 
 trust. But gently and subtly it stole back and nestled 
 there a welcome guest. 
 
 Still she did not dare, while her mother lay unburied 
 there, to arrange her plans. When she stood, as it were, 
 alone in the world, she made up her mind. 
 
 It was a fierce battle; there was something of good in 
 the vain, worldly, ambitious nature, and her better self 
 cried out at the base design; but the good was conquered 
 on that summer night when she stood at the window 
 watching the quiet stars. The temptation was too strong 
 — she yielded — and the great battle was lost. 
 
 There seemed no obstacle, not even one difficulty to 
 overcome — thanks to the fate that had called her Mar- 
 garet, and had given to Daisy the same name. Margaret 
 Rivers was, according to the register, the only child Mrs. 
 Rivers had. There could be no difficulty in that. Every 
 one would readily believe Daisy to be that child. Who 
 could say she was not? Her mother had known few 
 people at Deepdale, and they were never likely to hear of 
 the circumstances again. Possession, in this case, was 
 more than nine points of the law. She had the ring, the 
 locket, the letters, and, above all, the story. She need not 
 alter one word of it. She had but to put herself in Daisy’s 
 place. She thought over everything connected with the 
 history* of Margaret Arle and her child, and could not find 
 one weak point. 
 
 ‘ 6 After all,” she said to herself, as the voice of con- 
 science tried to make itself heard, “ what does it matter? 
 If ever Captain Arthur comes to light, he will find a 
 daughter to be proud of, and I shall make a better lady 
 than Daisy ever could. To deprive him of a child would 
 be very different; to substitute one grown-up girl for 
 another can not matter much.” 
 
 It was after midnight when Rita went to Daisy, and call- 
 ing her gently, roused her from sleep. The young maiden 
 
lord lisle's daughter. 
 
 opened her eyes in wonder, and Rita shrunk from the 
 pure, clear glance. 
 
 44 Do not be angry, Daisy; I could not help waking 
 you. You are going back to-morrow, and 1 want to tell 
 you something before you return." 
 
 Daisy looked up in some surprise. 
 
 6 4 What is it, dear?" she askod, gently. 65 Are you in 
 trouble, or have you a secret?" 
 
 Rita flushed as she exclaimed hoarsely: 
 
 44 It is r secret; one that concerns myself. " 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 44 A seoitet?" said Daisy, raising her clear, truthful eyes 
 to Rita’s face. 44 1 did not think we had one in our home!" 
 
 44 It is a secret," continued the elder girl, 44 that the 
 world would never suspect. I, the one concerned, never 
 dreamed of it. Daisy, can you believe that I was not Mrs. 
 Rivers's own child?" 
 
 44 Not our mother’s own child?" said Daisy, incred- 
 ulously. 44 It is impossible — it can not be true!" 
 
 “It is a fact," said Rita. 44 The night before my 
 poor nurse died she sent every one away from the room 
 and told me the story. " 
 
 44 Who are you, then?" cried Daisy. 44 Why, Rita, I 
 can not believe it! You must be my own sister — you are 
 dreaming!" 
 
 44 Nay, it is no dream," said Rita. 44 See, here are 
 the proofs. Yet I shall always be your sister and love 
 you very much. I shall always do my best for you. " 
 
 The faint inflection of patronage in the rich, musical 
 tones was not lost upon Daisy. Something like pain 
 flitted over her features and shadowed the tender eyes. 
 
 44 Tell me all about it, Rita," she said, imploringly. 
 44 How can it be? Why, my mother always seemed to Jove 
 you better than me!" 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 39 
 
 44 No,” said Eita, in alarm, 4 \that could not be. Did 
 it never strike you how much more anxious she seemed over 
 your education than over mine? There is little to tell; the 
 story is a very simple one. Your mother, when quite a 
 young girl, was my mother’s nurse. It seems that my 
 mother’s parents were once very rich people, but lost al] 
 they had. Her father died, and she herself, after receiving 
 an excellent training, went out as governess./ The place 
 where she went was called Hurst Hall, 1 believe. While 
 there, some gentleman fell in love with her and married 
 her. But, Daisy, the marriage was a secret one. He was 
 brought up by rich, aristocratic relations, who would not 
 hear of such a thing; so he married my mother, Margaret 
 Arle, unknown to every one.” 
 
 44 But who was he?” interrupted Daisy. 
 
 “Ah! would that I could tell you!” was the calm 
 reply. 4 4 My mother trusted yours, but she never told her 
 that. All she said of my father was, that he was an officer 
 in the army. She called him 4 Captain Arthur. ’ Captain 
 Arthur went to India, leaving my mother in England. 
 But he had a serious illness there; he sent, imploring my 
 mother to go out to him. The doctor said the journey 
 would cost my life. My poor mother, therefore, resolved 
 to leave me behind in her old nurse’s care. She took 
 me to Deepdale, our old home, and left me in your moth- 
 er’s charge.” 
 
 44 How strange!” said Daisy; 44 it seems like a romance 
 or a fairy tale.” 
 
 44 The strangest part has to come,” continued Eita. 
 44 My mother went in a ship called the 4 Ocean Queen;’ it 
 was lost at sea; and from the day she left me until the 
 present time no word has ever been heard of or from any 
 friend or relation — no one seems to be aware of my exist- 
 ence. My father has never written — has never claimed 
 me; either he is dead, or he does not know where I am. I 
 shall never believe that he has left me here, and willfully 
 
40 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 abandoned me. Tour mother told me all this on the night 
 she died; she gave me the locket, the ring, and the letters. 
 How strange it is, Daisy! 1 do not even know my own 
 name. My mother called herself ‘ Howard. * I shall 
 take that name. I am 4 Margaret Howard;* but I never 
 mean to rest until I have found my father or his rela- 
 tions.** ' 
 
 “ Then we shall be parted?** said Daisy, sadly. 
 
 “ That does not follow. When I find noble and wealthy 
 relations I shall not forget you, Daisy.** 
 
 No thought of wrong, no suspicion that the artfully 
 told story was a false one, came to the pure-minded 
 Daisy; nothing warned her the story she heard with won- 
 der was her own; that her rightful place was usurped by 
 one who had no right to it; that her name, her parents, 
 her identity even, was stolen from her by the proud, am- 
 bitious girl she had loved as her own sister. 
 
 They talked until the gray dawn of morning stole into 
 the little room; Daisy innocently suggesting plans by which 
 Eita could discover her father *s name; Eita wrapped in 
 glowing dreams of what the future might bring for her. 
 
 Daisy returned on the morning following to school. 
 Eita remained at the cottage with old Mrs. Feme. She 
 had decided upon certain plans, but did not intend to carry 
 them out until Ealph Ashton had left the country. 
 
 He was the one dark spot in the bright future. Al- 
 ready she had thrown off her allegiance to him in her own 
 mind: she had freed herself from a promise that, with her 
 new prospects, was simply hateful to her. If all went as 
 she dreamed and hoped, high-born gentlemen would sue 
 for her hand. With her glorious dower of beauty, with 
 wealth and position, it would be folly, she 'Said to herself, 
 to think of marrying a man like Ealph. She gave no 
 thought to his strong, passionate love — of the life she held 
 in her hands; but no word of all this did she say to her 
 lover when he came to bid her farewell. 
 
LOUD LISLE* S DAUGHTER. 
 
 41 
 
 human influence went, 
 Rita’s destiny was settled. There was no longer any need 
 for meeting her lover clandestinely. She told him to call 
 at the cottage, and say “ good-bye ” to her there. When 
 he stood at the door, and Mrs. Feme wondered who it 
 was, Rita, in her calm, grand way, said: 
 
 “ It is an old friend, going to sea, and he has called 
 to say good-bye. ” 
 
 She went out to him in the little garden, where the 
 June roses were blooming, and the tall, white lilies showed 
 their golden hearts. 
 
 Ralph Ashton never forgot that scene in the quiet even- 
 ing gloaming; he never forgot the expression on that 
 proud, beautiful face, as he spoke in words so passionate 
 they seemed to thrill the quiet evening air. He held her 
 hands in his strong grasp, *and made her again take the 
 oath that he believed would bind her to him forever; and, 
 under the light of the evening sky, she uttered the words 
 that for her had ceased to have any meaning; she made 
 the vow with her lips that in* her heart she intended to 
 break. Not one word did she say to Ralph Ashton of the 
 story told by Mrs. Rivers, or of her own version of it. 
 When he returned in three years’ time, he would hear 
 that she had left Rooks’ Nest, and she did not intend or 
 mean him to trace her. She believed he would forget her, 
 or give up all pursuit of her as hopeless. Even should he 
 discover her, she thought the change in her position would 
 awe him and convince him of the impassable barrier be- 
 tween them. 
 
 There was no change on the calm, proud face upraised 
 to her own, as the young sailor spoke those words that 
 would have touched another heart. While he spoke of 
 their future, the happiness in store for them, of . his pas- 
 sionate love and devotion, she was thinking and hoping 
 they would never stand side by side again. 
 
 She dare not utter one of the thoughts that filled her 
 
 n that evening, as far as 
 
42 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 mind; the dark, handsome face that gazed so lovingly 
 into her own could have worn a look that would have 
 terrified her. She was brave enough, but she dare not 
 rouse Ealph Ashton to passion or anger. She felt, as they 
 stood there, that he was her master — she dare not defy, 
 but she might elude him. 
 
 “ In three years!" Ealph said. “ Oh, Eita, how shall 
 I live through them? There will be no one moment in 
 which I shall not think of you, and long for the sound of 
 your voice, or one glimpse of your face. In three years I 
 shall find you when the flowers are blooming just as they 
 bloom now; and no sun will be so bright to me as the smile 
 you will welcome me with, when I come to claim you." 
 
 If Ealph Ashton could have foreseen how and where 
 he would find her, he would have died before the blow came. 
 To the last hour of his life he remembered every detail 
 of that scene: the distant chiming of the waves, the musical 
 voice that whispered false words, the magical charms of the 
 girl he loved, the fragrance of the roses, and the mellow 
 evening light. 
 
 The gloaming passed, and the gray tints of night grew 
 deeper. 
 
 “ Let me sit with you one hour longer, Eita," pleaded 
 Ealph; and she asked him into the cottage. 
 
 “ You must give me a keepsake," he said, when Mrs. 
 Feme plainly hinted that it was growing late; 4< anything 
 that you have touched and cared for yourself." 
 
 “ Give him something that will do him good, Eita," 
 said the old woman. “ He is a young man, and he is go- 
 ing down into the deep seas. It will do him no harm to 
 remember who keeps him safe in the midst of dangers." 
 
 Ealph smiled at the words, but she continued earnestly: 
 
 “ You have two Bibles, Eita. One, there, your poor 
 mother used every day. There is another lying on the 
 shelf there — give him that." 
 
 Eita silently took the book from the upper shelf, where it 
 
LORD LISLE ? S DAUGHTER. 48 
 
 had lain for many long years, and placed it in Ralph’s 
 hand. 
 
 6 4 Read it when you are on the seas,” she said, gravely. 
 
 He took it from her without a word of comment. She 
 was all unconscious that, at Deepdale, Mrs. Rivers had 
 placed little Daisy’s portrait and her mother’s last letter 
 there — the letter which spoke of the child’s golden curls, 
 and directed again that she should be called Daisy; all un- 
 conscious that between the leaves lay the portrait of a fair, 
 graceful child, while underneath it, in her mother’s own 
 handwriting, were the two words, 44 Daisy Howard.” 
 
 In the strongest armor there is generally one weak point. 
 Rita had made good her story, serenely unconscious of the 
 only piece of evidence that could ever betray her, and that 
 evidence she had placed in the hands of the man she in- 
 tended to dupe and elude. 
 
 Ralph thought little of the gift. He would have pre- 
 ferred the ribbon she wore in her hair, or the flower that 
 she carried in her hands. He took the book home with 
 him, and laid jt in his sea-chest. He was many miles away 
 from old England when he saw it again, and found what 
 it contained. 
 
 Even that vain, ambitious heart was touched with his 
 sorrow when the time came for him to leave her. He 
 clasped her in his arms, and kissed the face that lured him 
 on to ruin and death. Tears dimmed the eyes that had 
 seldom wept before. For long hours after he had quitted 
 her his warm kisses seemed to burn her lips and brows. 
 She was touched at his sorrow, wondered at the depth of 
 his love, but never dreamed of being true to him. When 
 his tall figure disappeared down the high-road she felt re- 
 leased. He had faded from her life, she thought, and 
 would trouble her no more. 
 
 Two days afterward, Daisy came home with strange in- 
 telligence. One of the pupils at Miss Toffies’s academy— 
 the daughter and heiress of John Denham, of Landsmeer 
 
44 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ■ — was going abroad, and nothing would satisfy her but 
 taking with her, as companion, the fair, gentle girl whom 
 every one loved. Mrs. Denham came over to Queen’s 
 Lynne, and urgently pressed Daisy to accede to her daugh- 
 ter’s wish. Daisy had no objection; her only difficulty 
 was in leaving Eita. The change from the dull school- 
 room to such a life of gayety and pleasure as Laura Den- 
 ham mapped out, was delightful enough. She liked Mrs. 
 Denham’s high-bred, graceful manner, so different to the 
 starched propriety of Miss Toffles; she asked. Mrs. Denham 
 to wait a few days for her decision, as all must depend 
 upon Rita. 
 
 Far from opposing the plan, Rita thought it the best 
 event that could have happened. Daisy, at home, might 
 have been in her way; but Daisy, abroad, could not inter- 
 fere with her arrangements. By all means, let her go. 
 
 “ It would be folly to remain here for my sake,” said 
 Rita. “ I shall not be here long myself. In a few more 
 weeks 1 intend to take some active steps for discovering 
 my father’s name and whereabouts. If I find him, this 
 will be no home for me.” 
 
 “ I shall always love it,” said Daisy, gently. 
 
 66 Quite right,” replied Rita. “ It is your own; but it 
 is not mine.” 
 
 The younger girl said nothing; she felt pained and 
 wounded. Already there seemed to be a boundless differ- 
 ence between them. Rita assumed a haughty, patronizing 
 manner that grieved the other’s tender, sensitive heart. 
 
 In less than two months after Mrs. Rivers’s death, Daisy, 
 had left England, and Rita was wondering what should be 
 her first step. Ralph was far on his voyage, and the only 
 proof of the identity of Captain Arthur’s daughter was 
 with him. 
 
 Daisy was happy. The Denhams intended remaining 
 on the Continent for three years, and during that time she 
 was to be the friend and companion of their only child. 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 45 
 
 The June roses were blooming when Ralph Ashton bade 
 farewell to the girl he loved so deeply and dearly. She 
 began then to arrange her plans; but before the roses had 
 faded, fate had taken the threads into her own hand. 
 There was no need for the beautiful, ambitious girl to 
 • scheme and arrange; the father whom she intended to seek 
 was seeking her, and the tragedy of her life began. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Lisles, of Lisle Court, stood foremost in the ranks 
 of English nobility.. They had served their country well, 
 both in senate and on the battle-field. Time had been 
 when the English Court had no greater favorites than the 
 lords of Lisle. Far back as the reign of Stephen, one 
 found their name in the annals of history — a Lisle fought 
 for Matilda, and never quite yielded .allegiance to King 
 Stephen. A Lisle joined the Crusades, and was well loved 
 by the lion-hearted king. Huldebrand Lisle fell at Ban- 
 nockburn, and Bertram helped to win the victory of 
 Poictiers. Vyviene died on Flodden Field, and Hubert 
 figured as one of Henry the Eighths best counselors. The 
 doomed race of the Royal Stuarts had no truer friends than 
 the Lisles, of Lisle Court. The bed-chamber where 
 “Bonnie Prince Charlie” slept remains untouched. 
 When the last Stuart ceased to reign, their interest in pub- 
 lic life seemed to end. Lord Archibald Lisle, during the 
 reign of George the Second, gave up his seat in Parlia- 
 ment, and devoted* himself to the care of his estate. In 
 all England there stands no fairer domain than Lisle 
 Court. It lies in the fertile midland counties — in the 
 quiet, green heart of the land. Wide streams flow through 
 it; dark, belted woods shade and shelter it; rich meadows 
 and golden corn fields surround it. In the far distance, 
 Glenn . Forest gives to the calm scenery the picturesque 
 aspect not common in old England. 
 
46 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The Hall itself is a grand old building, comprising every 
 style of architecture in vogue since the reign of Stephen — 
 gable-ends, deep oriel windows, towers, and turrets. The 
 broad portico still stands where Lord Douglas Lisle knelt, 
 with his fair young wife, to welcome the “ Merrie Mon- 
 arch. " Ancient and modern time seem strangely mingled., 
 at Lisle Court. 
 
 Cheerful, modern rooms, with long French windows, 
 look over the garden, where tall fountains play among 
 fragrant flowers. Every modern luxury is there, every 
 late improvement, every new design that can add either to 
 pleasure, luxury, or comfort. One also sees state-rooms, 
 untouched since royal faces smiled there. 
 
 In the long picture-gallery hang portraits of all the lords 
 of Lisle — not one is missing. Fair-faced, haughty dames 
 are there also. Sybilla Lisle, whose sweet, modest grace, 
 and tender, spiritual face charmed the “ Merrie Mon- 
 arch," is by the side of her loyal husband. 
 
 Lord Eonald Lisle, the last baron, married young; he 
 had two sons, bright, handsome boys, and then his wife 
 died. He loved her memory too well ever to take a second 
 wife. From the time of her death, he devoted himself to 
 his children. He was a proud, fastidious man— proud to 
 excess of his name and lineage, honestly believing the 
 Lisles second to none. The bare idea of a mesalliance was 
 hateful to him. Poor relations he considered one of the 
 greatest afflictions that could befall any family. When his 
 sister married Lionel Wyverne, the younger son of a poor 
 baronet, his anger knew no bounds. Lionel Wyverne, 
 whose only fortune consisted in a handsome, aristocratic 
 face and some two hundred per annum, struggled for a few 
 years with poverty and a delicate wife; he died then, tired 
 of the world and its coldness. Lord Lisle had no resource 
 save to fetch his sister and her only child, Arthur, to Lisle 
 Court. He adopted his nephew, treating him in every re- 
 spect as one of his own children. He educated him with 
 
LORD LISLE* S DAUGHTER. 
 
 47 
 
 his sons; and when his college career ended, purchased for 
 him a commission in a “ crack ” regiment. When Cap- 
 tain Arthur Wyverne came to his uncle, and told him he 
 bad fallen in love with, and wanted to marry a pretty, 
 penniless governess. Lord Lisle laughed in contemptuous 
 anger. He was deaf to the young man’s pleading and 
 earnest supplication. He grew white with anger when 
 Captain Wyverne persisted, and declared his inviolable 
 resolution to marry Margaret Arle. Lord Lisle asked him 
 if he knew at what cost. 
 
 “ Not only,” he said, “ will I refuse to see you again, 
 and withdraw from you all countenance and support, but 
 your mother, too, must suffer for you. If you persist in 
 this absurd folly, she must leave Lisle Court, and you 
 know what suffering that would inflict upon her. Let me 
 hear no more of it, Arthur; boyish fancies are soon for- 
 gotten. ” 
 
 Captain Wyverne paused then. For himself, he could 
 have endured anything; but the thought of his delicate 
 mother, sent adrift from the home she valued so much, 
 where every luxury was at her command, quelled him. 
 She had suffered enough; for no love or fancy could he 
 give her what he believed would be a death-blow. 
 
 He said no more to Lord Lisle. After some weeks of 
 anxious debate, he compromised the matter by a private 
 marriage, as already detailed. 
 
 Captain Wyverne was the more tenacious over his secret, 
 as his mother, to whom Lord Lisle repeated the whole con- 
 versation daily, almost hourly, implored of him never to 
 offend his uncle. 
 
 “ It would kill me, Arthur,” she said, “ to leave Lisle 
 Court now! I have grown accustomed to luxury! 1 could 
 never renew the old struggle with genteel poverty and 
 limited means.” 
 
 Then he looked upon her pale, delicate face. He knew 
 she spoke truly; so Captain Wyverne guarded his secret as 
 
48 
 
 LORD LISLE S DAUGHTER. 
 
 he guarded his life. He impressed the importance ot 
 secrecy so strongly upon his wife, that, as we have seen, 
 even to the nurse she intrusted with her child, she never 
 breathed his name. 
 
 One brief year, as the reader is aware, and then a dark 
 cloud fell over the happy home. Captain Wyverne’s regi- 
 ment was ordered to India, and neither wife nor child was 
 strong enough to accompany him. 
 
 He never forgot the agony of that parting hour, how his 
 wife clung round him, the warm tears falling on his face. 
 He never forgot the parting words, in which she told him 
 how dearly she loved him, and thanked him for his kind- 
 ness and his love. He wept, as men seldom weep, when 
 he^ kissed, for the last time, the fair, sweet face he was 
 never to see again. 
 
 Margaret laid the little one in his arms. He could not 
 see down the long vista of years. He never dreamed that 
 the cold, cruel sea would hide from him forever the loving 
 wife whose kisses and tears were warm upon his face. He 
 could not foresee how treachery, ambition, and vanity 
 would, for long years, make the little daughter he loved a 
 stranger to him. 
 
 Then came his illness, and his urgent request that his 
 wife would join him in far-off India. How anxiously he 
 awaited her arrival, may be well imagined. But, instead, 
 there came to him, on his sick-bed, the fatal tidings. The 
 vessel was lost, and all on board had perished with her. 
 
 In after years, he never knew how he had lived through 
 the misery of that time. At first he hoped that something 
 might have prevented his wife from going in the doomed 
 ship. But in the printed list of the dead, he saw her 
 name, ‘ 4 Margaret Howard.” The papers mentioned her 
 as a beautiful young lady, going to join her husband in 
 India. There could be no doubt about it; she was lost, 
 and the tender face he had longed to see would never smile 
 on him again. 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 49 
 
 For many long weeks Captain Wyverne forgot his sor- 
 row in insensibility. When health and reason returned, 
 his first thought ivas of his child — Margaret's child. What 
 had become of her? The little one had evidently been left 
 behind, for there was no mention of her in the passengers' 
 list. With whom had she been left? How should he find 
 her? During the long, weary hours of convalescence, the 
 young officer lay pondering these questions. Surely, in 
 England, there must be some clew. Some one there must 
 know the whereabouts of Margaret's child. He wrote to 
 Mrs. Markham, in whose house his wife had lodged, but 
 the letter was never answered. 
 
 He could not recover; his mind and heart were both 
 tortured. At length, he succeeded in obtaining a few 
 months' leave of absence, and returned home. 
 
 His mother, when she gazed upon his face, did not know 
 her own son. The white, haggard features and dim, sad- 
 dened eyes told of more than physical suffering. 
 
 Once more in England, he commenced a life-long search 
 for his lost child. How could he best find out to whom 
 Margaret had intrusted her? 
 
 On the first day of his return, he went to the house 
 where she had lodged. Then he found out Mrs. Markham 
 had gone to America; but no one could tell him where, or 
 to what part of that vast country. One of the neighbors, 
 who .remembered the lady and the child, told him they 
 both left the house a week before Mrs. Markham went 
 away; so that, evidently, the child had not been left with 
 her. By dint of great expense and trouble in advertising, 
 the cabman was found who had driven the lady and the 
 little one to the station. He remembered every detail, but 
 he could not say where she was going; he had not re- 
 marked the direction upon the box. It seemed to Cap- 
 tain Wyverne that every trace of little Margaret was lost. 
 
50 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Captain Wyverne did not search alone lor his lost 
 chill; he employed the keenest, cleverest detective in Eng- 
 land to assist; he advertised in all the papers, briefly stating 
 the circumstances, and offering a handsome reward for any 
 one who could tell him where the child had been placed. 
 But a silence like the cold, long silence of death seemed to 
 have fallen over little Margaret. Mrs. Rivers, in her quite 
 home at Deepdale, never saw any papers; not one of the 
 many advertisements ever came under her notice. 
 
 Driven almost to despair. Captain Wy verne told the 
 secret to his terrified mother. Her wonder and astonish- 
 ment were great; she quite believed, poor lady, that her 
 son had forgotten his 44 foolish love affair,” and now, he 
 told her, not only had he been married and lost his beau- 
 tiful young wife, but he was over in England purposely to 
 find the child so strangely lost. 
 
 Her first cry was one of earnest supplication that he 
 would keep the secret from Lord Lisle. 
 
 44 Of course I shall, mother,” he replied. 46 Would to 
 Heaven 1 had told him before, and had taken my darling 
 with me! It is I who have murdered her by my cowardice 
 and cruelty in hurrying her over to India. There is no 
 use telling my uncle now. Have no fear, mother; help 
 me to find my child.” 
 
 But Mrs. Wy verne could suggest nothing. 
 
 44 Margaret,” she said, 44 must have left the child with 
 some one,” but she could not tell how that some one was 
 to be discovered. Strange to say, she had read some of 
 the advertisements, and had wondered who it was that so 
 earnestly sought a lost child. The name, Margaret How- 
 ard, was new to her; least of all did she dream that the 
 poor lady lost in the 44 Ocean Queen ” was her son's wife. 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 51 
 
 All over England the advertisements were read, and 
 many comments were made upon them. They told so 
 pathetic a story that many were anxious to join in the 
 search lor the child. 
 
 “ A lady — Mrs. Margaret Howard, of 11 Linden Street, 
 Regent’s Park — sailed in the * Ocean Queen, 5 to join her 
 husband, who was then dangerously ill, in India. Before 
 leaving she placed a little girl out to nurse; the father is 
 now in England, anxiously seeking information as to the 
 child’s whereabouts, as its mother was lost at sea, and no 
 clew, even, can be found of the person who has charge 
 of it.” 
 
 In many a happy English home this advertisement was 
 read; the dates were carefully inserted, but no reply ever 
 came. The six months’ leave of absence ended, and Cap- 
 tain Wyverne returned to India, broken-hearted at the loss 
 of his child. 
 
 He did not abandon the search; every year he sent re- 
 mittances to the detective, who had the business in hand; 
 his mother, too, promised to do her best. 
 
 Twelve years passed, and never once during the course 
 of them did one iota of intelligence gladden his heart. 
 
 He grew at length to believe that she was dead. 
 
 Life had no pleasures for him. He never ceased to 
 mourn for the loving, gentle wife who slept beneath the 
 waves — he never ceased to reproach himself for having sent 
 for her. By so doing, he had lost both his treasures. He 
 thought of her unceasingly, picturing to himself how she 
 looked; what she would be like if she still lived; had she 
 Margaret’s sweet face and soft, dark hair. 
 
 At length a change came in his fortunes. An accident 
 happened that created a sensation in the great world. 
 Lord Lisle and his two sons, who had gone on the Conti- 
 nent together, were drowned in the Lake of Como. No 
 one knew exactly how the accident had happened. There 
 
83 
 
 LORD LISLE *S DAUGHTER. 
 
 had been a sudden gust of wind — a sudden upheaving of 
 the cleep, blue waters. Those who waited for them on 
 shore saw the gentlemen struggle for some time with the 
 waves. The boatmen saved themselves, but the English 
 “ milords/* none of them good swimmers, sunk, and were 
 lost in spite of all the efforts made to save them. 
 
 It was more than a nine-days* wonder. People could 
 not forget it. The father, still a handsome man, in the 
 prime of life, lost with his sons, two fine, promising young 
 men! The tragedy seemed, for a few days, to spread a 
 gloom through all England. 
 
 The papers were loud in praise of the deceased noble- 
 man. The title and estate devolved, they said, upon Cap- 
 tain Arthur Wyverne, now serving in India. He, the nep- 
 hew, and next of kin to the dead lord, was his heir at law. 
 
 The news came to him, but it brought nothing but sad- 
 ness. He had loved the bright, gay-hearted cousins, with 
 whom his childhood had been spent. He felt a grateful 
 liking for Lord Lisle, despite the one great quarrel and its 
 consequences. He would far rather they had lived, and 
 he remained Captain Wyverne. His interest in all that 
 concerned the world seemed dead. He might have re- 
 turned to England years ago, but he did not care to do so. 
 He might have gained position and rank, but he cared 
 nothing for them — all energy and hope seemed to have 
 died in him. 
 
 But whether he liked it or not. Lord Lisle was obliged 
 to hasten home. He had many painful duties to perform. 
 He went to Italy himself and superintended the removal of 
 the three bodies to England. The whole country-side were 
 present at the magnificent funeral he arranged. He com- 
 plied with every injunction found in his uncle*s will — that 
 will which mentioned so proudly and lovingly the two 
 brave sons who now slept with him. Legacies were paid 
 to old servants and dear friends. All this was done before 
 
LORD LISTENS DAUGHTER. 53 
 
 Lord Lisle paused and realized to himself the great change 
 in his life. 
 
 The first question he asked them startled the lawyers: 
 “ Who was his heir? — for he never intended marrying.” 
 
 They told him Philip Lisle, a second cousin of the late 
 lord — a young man still at Oxford. 
 
 Lord Lisle desired that he should come to Lisle Court at 
 once. He wished him for the future to reside there. 
 
 “But, my dear Arthur,” remonstrated Mrs. Wyverne, 
 now the proud, happy mistress of the Court, “ you are 
 young still. You will surely marry. There are many fair 
 and noble ladies in England who would gladly call them- 
 selves Lady Lisle. ” 
 
 “ 1 shall never marry, mother,” he replied, with a grave 
 smile, “ my heart and my love lie buried with Margaret. 
 I died with her in one sense. Life has been all dark to me 
 since.” 
 
 “You should try to forget that dismal story,” said his 
 mother, anxiously. “ Something is due to your rank in 
 life; something is due to me. Am 1 never to hold a child 
 of yours in my arms or know the happiness of loving your 
 wife?” 
 
 “Hush, mother,” he said, gently; “ you torture me. 
 My wife is sleeping where the restless waves chant her re- 
 quiem. My child is lost. Oh, if it should please Heaven 
 that I may one day find her, 1 shall live again.” 
 
 She opposed, his wish no longer, and Philip Lisle, the 
 heir of Lisle Court, came to dwell with his kinsman. 
 
 He was a bright, handsome youth, with a clear, true 
 Saxon face and fair hair, honest, laughing eyes, and a smile 
 of singular sweetness. His disposition was charming and 
 open as his face. Loyal and true, honorable and chival- 
 rous, he detested all things false and mean; he would have 
 preferred death to dishonor, torture to disgrace. 
 
 Lord Lisle soon loved his young kinsman. He trusted 
 
54 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 him, relied upon him, and, above all, he liked telling 
 Philip the story of his 44 two pearls.” 
 
 It seemed to him impossible that Lord Lisle’s daughter 
 should be lost, and the unhappy father loved the very 
 sound of the young voice that prophesied he would one day 
 see his child again. By Philip’s advice the advertisements 
 were resumed, the reward was doubled, and something like 
 hope woke once more in Lord Lisle’s heart. 
 
 One morning in May, as Philip Lisle stood debating 
 whether he should ride or walk over to Eushton Hall, the 
 old butler came hurriedly up to him. 
 
 44 Lord Lisle wishes to see you at once, sir,” said the old 
 man. 44 He is in the library, and begged you would not 
 lose a moment. ” 
 
 Philip turned hastily away. At the door of the library 
 he stood for some few seconds lost in wonder at the scene. 
 Lord Lisle lay back in his chair, white and trembling; 
 Mrs. Wyverne stood near him, a look of great excitement 
 on her face and tears shining in her eyes. A strange man, 
 with a clever, shrewd countenance, whom Philip had never 
 seen before, ceased speaking as he entered the room. 
 
 44 My dear uncle,” cried Philip — who invariably ad- 
 dressed Lord Lisle by that title — 44 what is the matter? 
 Are you ill?” 
 
 44 Philip,” said Lord Lisle, earnestly, with quivering 
 lips, 44 thank God for me! My daughter is found!” 
 
 44 Found!” cried the young man. 44 Is it possible?” 
 
 44 We have traced her,” said the stranger. 44 We know 
 now where she was left. We can not say if she is still 
 there.” 
 
 44 This is Mr. Braye, the detective officer,” said Lord 
 Lisle, turning to Philip. 44 Tell Mr. Lisle all you have 
 told me,” he added, to him. 
 
 44 It is not much, sir,” said the man; 44 but little as it 
 is, it means that Miss Lisle is found. Last week a woman 
 
LOUD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 55 
 
 waited upon me, saying she had read the advertisement and 
 could give the information required. Her name is Mrs. 
 Markham. Seventeen years ago she lived at No. 11 Lin- 
 den Street, Regent’s Park. Apartments in her house were 
 engaged by a gentleman calling himself Mr. Howard, who 
 was going to India, and leaving his wife and child in Lon- 
 don. Mrs. Howard remained with her until urgent letters 
 from India summoned her to join her husband. Mrs. 
 Howard begged her — Mrs. Markham — to undertake the 
 charge of her little girl during her absence. She was 
 obliged to decline, as all arrangements had been made for 
 her to join her brother in America. Mrs. Howard then 
 resolved to leave the little one with some woman who had 
 been her own nurse, and the name of the woman was Susan 
 Rivers. She lived at Deepdale, in Devonshire. Mrs. 
 Markham with her own hands wrote the address on the 
 box containing the child’s clothes. Mrs. Howard left her 
 house and took the child to Deepdale. 
 
 “ I told the woman to come again in a week’s time. I 
 wished to spare Lord Lisle the pain of suspense. By that 
 night’s mail I started for Deepdale. It is a little place, 
 quite out of the world, looking as though it had been 
 asleep for many years — quiet, calm, and unknown. There 
 1 made all possible inquiries, and found that Susan Rivers 
 had lived in Rosemary Cottage; that she had two children, 
 called Daisy and Margaret, one of whom was her own 
 child; the other is supposed to have been what the village 
 people call a 4 nurse child. ’ Many years ago this same 
 Susan Rivers left Deepdale and went to a place called 
 Queen’s Lynne, in Norfolk. She may be living there 
 now.” 
 
 44 1 always guessed it would be so, uncle,” cried Philip. 
 “ People can not lose each other long in a small country 
 like England. What is to be done next?” 
 
 44 The woman, Mrs. Markham, is here, my lord,” said 
 the detective. 44 She only returned from America three 
 
56 LORD lisle's daughter. 
 
 weeks since* and applied to me at once when she saw tL^ 
 advertisement." 
 
 “ I will see her now," said Lord Lisle; “ let her come 
 In." 
 
 A deadly pallor came over his grave* patient face when 
 he saw her. It seemed to him something like receiving a 
 message from his lost wife. The woman greeted him re- 
 spectfully* but some minutes passed before he could speak 
 to her. 
 
 At Lord Lisle's wish they all withdrew* leaving him 
 alone with Mrs. Markham. He wanted to ask a thousand 
 questions about those few last months when his “two 
 pearls " had lived without him; he wanted every detail of 
 those last hours when Margaret parted with the little child 
 she loved so dearly for his sake. 
 
 As he listened the present faded from him. He stood 
 once more with his wife's loving arms clasped round his 
 neck; her sweet face* wet with tears* raised to his. It was 
 no shame to his manhood that when the woman had told 
 all she knew he laid his face upon his hands and wept bit- 
 terly. 
 
 “I remember so well*" continued Mrs. Markham* 
 “ that the poor young lady told me there was no time and 
 no need for writing to you* my lord; that when she saw 
 you she could tell you all about Nurse Rivers. Of course 
 she could not foresee what was to happen. She had no 
 thought of finding her death in the cold seas," 
 
 “ If I recover my child, Mrs. Markham*" said Lord 
 Lisle* “ 1 will make you a rich woman for life." 
 
 “ What is to be done next, uncle?" asked Philip, as he 
 re-entered the library. 
 
 “You must start for Queen's Lynne at once," said 
 Lord Lisle. “ I can not go* Philip, my nerves are all un- 
 strung. Take Mr. Braye with you* and — Stay, our 
 family lawyer should eo, too. Send at once for Mr. Kent. 
 
LORD lisle’s daughter. 57 
 
 if all goes well,, let me know soon; if there should be an- 
 other disappointment it would kill me.” 
 
 That same evening three gentlemen started for Queen’s 
 Lynne, and his mother, who remained with Lord Lisle, 
 almost feared for his reason, his suspense and anxiety were 
 so great. 
 
 “ I have often wished for oblivion before,” he said. 
 “ I wish for it again. 4 4 Oh, mother, would to Heaven I 
 could sleep until my eyes opened to see Margaret’s child!” 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It was the close of a warm summer’s afternoon when 
 the three gentlemen reached Queen’s Lynne. They had 
 talked during the whole of their journey of the strange 
 circumstances under which Lord Lisle’s daughter had for 
 so many years been lost. 
 
 The lawyer, Mr. Kent, told of another case he had 
 known wherein the circumstances were somewhat similar, 
 and the loss of the young heiress during many years led to 
 a lawsuit that even yet was not ended. 
 
 Philip Lisle listened and replied, but his thoughts were 
 with the unknown cousin they were going to seek. What 
 would she be like? For Lord Lisle’s sake he hoped she 
 would resemble the dead wife he mourned so deeply. If 
 she should be vulgar or uneducated, what would his uncle 
 do? Lord Lisle himself was one of the best bred and most 
 refined men in England. How could he tolerate a coarse, 
 vulgar girl always near him? 
 
 Philip Lisle had a warm and sincere affection for the 
 kinsman who had acted so liberally toward him. He had 
 grown intensely interested in the tragic love story that had 
 thrown so deep a shadow over Lord Lisle’s life. He felt 
 nervous and uneasy as they drew near the end of their 
 journey; a hundred misgivings seized him. He would 
 rather return to Lord Lisle and tell him his daughter lay 
 
58 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 dead than take back with him some coarse, vulgar girl, 
 who would be a constant source of pain and sorrow to all 
 connected with her. 
 
 When the train stopped at Queen’s Lynne his compan- 
 ions saw that Philip Lisle’s handsome face had grown pale; 
 he was silent and thoughtful, feeling more nervous than 
 he had ever done in his life. 
 
 Their first enterprise was to secure a good dinner at the 
 Albion Hotel, after which the three gentlemen started to- 
 gether in quest of the woman who had charge of Lord 
 Lisle’s daughter. 
 
 For a long time they were unsuccessful. The name of 
 Susan Rivers did not appear to be known at all, and a 
 shade of uneasiness passed over the detective’s face. An 
 inquiry at the post-office reassured them; Susan Rivers had 
 lived at a place called Rooks’ Nest. She was dead and 
 buried, but her daughter still lived at the cottage. 
 
 They walked in silence to the place, each one thinking 
 more of the anxious father at home than of the young girl 
 they were going to see. 
 
 Philip Lisle never forgot that night — the splendor of the 
 evening sky — the fragrance of the purple heather— -the 
 distant sighing of the waves, and the solemn quiet of the 
 summer night. The sunbeams still played over the sea. 
 Suddenly turning a corner of the road, they saw before 
 them a pretty cottage, surrounded by a fair and pleasant 
 flower garden. 
 
 “ This is Rooks’ Nest,” said Mr. Kent to Philip Lisle. 
 
 “ I suppose so,” he replied. “ The misery or happiness 
 of Lord Lisle’s life depends on what we find here.” 
 
 The three gentlemen looked agitated as they stood 
 awaiting the opening of the door. In answer to their sum- 
 mons an elderly woman appeared, who dropped a deep 
 courtesy and looked in much wonder at the unusual num- 
 ber of visitors. 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 59 
 
 Mr. Kent, stepping forward, took upon himself the 
 office of spokesman. 
 
 44 We are here for the purpose of making inquiries/’ he 
 said. 44 We have been x cld that Susan Rivers, whom we 
 came to see, is dead, but that her daughter lives here still. 
 Can we see her?” 
 
 With confused wonder the old lady admitted the gentle- 
 men and opened the door of the best parlor. 
 
 44 It’ll be Rita you’re wanting to see,” she said. 
 
 But before there was time for any reply what they 
 thought a vision came into the room — a tall, beautiful 
 girl, with a magnificent face and queenly figure — a face so 
 wondrous in its dark, proud beauty that those who saw it 
 never forgot it. Philip Lisle’s heart almost stood still. 
 Ah, dear Heaven! could it be — was this Lord Lisle’s lost 
 darling? 
 
 The moment had come — the moment for which Rita 
 had longed and waited. She met it bravely. The color 
 faded from her cheek and lips, but no word or sign be- 
 trayed her fear and suspense. 
 
 With one graceful gesture she waved Mrs. Feme from 
 the room; then, closing the door, she stood facing the 
 three, whose errand she had divined. 
 
 44 May I ask,” said Mr. Kei>f, 46 if you are the daughter 
 of the poor woman so lately dead, Susan Rivers?’ 
 
 There was no faltering of the musical voice; the beauti- 
 ful lips were not blistered by the cruel lie that rippled over 
 them. 
 
 “ No,” she said, clearly; 44 1 am not the daughter of 
 Susan Rivers — she was my nurse.” 
 
 Philip Lisle made one step toward her, but the lawyer 
 impatiently signed him to be silent. ' 
 
 “ May 1 ask who it is we have the pleasure of address* 
 ing?” he continued. 
 
 44 Would that I could answer you,” she said. 44 1 have no 
 other name than the one my mother poor bore — Margaret. 
 
60 
 
 LORD LISLE S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Until six weeks since, when Susan Rivers died, I believed, 
 myself to be what every one thought me — her own child. 
 On the night of her death she told me my true story, and 
 gave me the proofs. I intend to devote my life to one 
 purpose of finding the father who has ceased to remember 
 me.” 
 
 “ We are here making inquiries that relate doubtless to 
 the same story,” said Mr. Kent. “ Will you repeat Susan 
 Rivers’ words to us and show us the proofs?” 
 
 She went to a box that lay upon the little table and 
 took from it a key. 
 
 “I will return in one minute,” she said, quitting the 
 room. 
 
 When she closed the door the three gentlemen looked at 
 one another in stupefied wonder. 
 
 “She is beautiful and dignified/' said Philip Lisle.* 
 “ My uncle will be wild with delight.” 
 
 “ Do not judge too quickly,” said the detective; “let 
 us hear first what the young lady has to say.” 
 
 No trained actress could have played her part better 
 than the young girl who re-entered the room holding a 
 small parcel in her hand. Philip Lisle placed a chair be- 
 fore her. She took it with graceful nonchalance, never 
 once raising her magnificent eyes to his face. 
 
 “ The story I have to tell is a short one,” she said. “ I 
 know my mother only by the name of Margaret Howard. 
 Years ago, when she was Miss Arle, Susan Rivers waited 
 upon her. Her father lost his fortune, and my mother 
 became a governess. Of the particulars of her private 
 marriage with my father I know nothing. My nurse and 
 foster-mother told me that she did not know my father’s 
 name, and had no clew to it, save that he was called Cap- 
 tain Arthur, and went with his regiment to India. 
 
 “ My mother took me when I was quite a child to Deep- 
 
 dale. She was going’ to India. My father lay ill there; 
 
 v** 
 
LORD LISLE 5 S DAUGHTER. 61 
 
 and Nurse Rivers promised to take charge of me for a cer- 
 tain time and bring me up with her own child / 5 
 
 The clear voice faltered then, and the beautiful lips 
 trembled. 
 
 “My mother was lost at sea / 5 she continued, sadly, 
 “and from that day to this no word has been heard of 
 father or friend. I have been neglected or forgotten. My 
 poor nurse did her best for me, and she never told me 
 until the night she died . 55 
 
 “And then ? 55 continued Mr. Kent, for the plaintive 
 voice ceased. 
 
 “ Then she gave me these proofs , 55 said the young girl 
 — “ the letter my mother wrote, a ring Captain Arthur 
 gave her, and a locket containing the hair of both my 
 parents . 55 
 
 She took the ring and the letter from the box as she 
 spoke, and Philip Lisle looked attentively at them. The 
 lawyer read the letters through in silence. What doubt 
 could he reasonably entertain? 
 
 “Why did your nurse never tell you this before ? 55 he 
 inquired. “ Her silence seems strange , 55 
 
 “Strange and cruel / 5 said the young girl; “yet she 
 meant it kindly. She thought it better to let me live in 
 happy ignorance. Another reason was, that in her heart, 
 I believe, she distrusted Captain Arthur . 55 
 
 “ Why ? 55 said Philip Lisle, hastily. 
 
 Then, for the first time, she raised her dark, lustrous 
 eyes to his; their beauty struck him with wonder. 
 
 “Because he left me alone, neglected, and uncared for; 
 because, neither by word, letter nor message has he ever 
 sought me. My father left me to live or die as I might . 55 
 
 There was a ring of passion in her voice as she spoke. 
 
 “ Hush, child ! 55 said Mr. Kent; “ your father has spent 
 a life-time in searching for you! He has spent a fortune 
 in the search for eighteen years! The loss of his child has 
 clouded and darkened his life! His hair is white with sor* 
 
62 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 row, and all for you! You spoke in ignorance. As you 
 value heaven, never utter one word against your father!" 
 
 She grew very pale as he spoke; and Philip Lisle saw a 
 strange quiver pass over her countenance. 
 
 46 My father?" she said, softly. 44 Is it possible that he 
 remembers me and loves me?" 
 
 44 You have to hear his story," continued Mr. Kent. 
 44 No one has spoken to you of the chivalrous love he had 
 for the friendless girl he married — of the life-long agony 
 her death and your loss has been!" 
 
 44 But tell me," she cried, 44 who he is. Eemember, my 
 father is nothing to me but an empty name." 
 
 Mr. Kent looked anxiously at his confreres . 
 
 44 There can be no doubt," he said. 44 1 can see no flaw 
 in this evidence." 
 
 44 No," said the detective officer, gravely; 44 there is no 
 doubt. " 
 
 / 44 Then," said Mr. Kent, 44 the words must not come 
 from a stranger's lips. Mr. Lisle, will you tell this young 
 lady who her father is?" 
 
 Philip came forward. He took the trembling hands in 
 his own, and bent over the beautiful, drooping figure. 
 
 44 When your father married your mother, Margaret 
 Arle," he said, gently, 44 he was Captain Arthur Wy verne, 
 a brave officer, and a noble gentleman. He is now Lord 
 Lisle, of Lisle Court, and you are his only child." 
 
 Lord Lisle! Ah! the stake was worth playing for. Her 
 wildest dreams had not been brighter than this. A thrill 
 of grateful vanity made the worldly, ambitious heart beat 
 more quickly. 
 
 44 1 thank God," said Philip, solemnly, 44 that you are 
 found at last. Your father has wearied for you; I left 
 him half dead with suspense. He will never recover until 
 he sees you." 
 
 For one moment her strong nerve gave way, and she 
 wept convulsively. The strain had been great; she had 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 63 
 
 repeated her little story — rehearsed it over and over again 
 —and a half doubt had lingered in her mind as to whether 
 it were plausible. She knew that sooner or later the keen 
 sense of the law would analyze it. Something that she 
 had not foreseen might turn up, and then her brilliant 
 castle would fall in ruins. But there was no doubt in the 
 kindly faces that surrounded her. Even the lawyer’s eyes 
 grew dim as he listened to the passionate weeping. 
 
 44 Nay,” he said, gently; 44 you must not give way. Be 
 courageous for your father’s sake.” 
 
 44 My courage seldom fails,” she replied, raising her 
 head proudly. 
 
 In after-years Philip Lisle remembered the instinct that 
 prompted him to say: 44 Where is your foster-sister, Susan 
 Rivers’ own child?” 
 
 44 She has gone abroad,” replied Rita. 44 1 told her my 
 story before she left England. She knows nothing more 
 of it than I know myself. Her mother never named it to 
 her.” 
 
 44 Then her evidence will be of little use,” said Mr. 
 Kent. 44 Our case is complete without any addition. And 
 now, Miss Lisle,” he said, turning to the young girl, 44 we 
 must not lose one minute. I can imagine the effect this 
 excitement will produce upon Lord Lisle. Have you any 
 friends here, or any arrangements you would like to 
 make?” 
 
 44 No,” she replied; 44 1 have no friends, and I have no 
 plans. ” 
 
 44 Could you arrange to start for Lisle Court to-morrow 
 morning?” he asked. 
 
 She said there was nothing to detain her. 
 
 44 Lord Lisle is both rich and generous,” said Philip. 
 44 If there are any friends or dependents you would like to 
 provide for, do as you will.” - 
 
 44 The old woman who lives here has been very good to 
 me since Susan Rivers died,” she replied. 44 It would 
 
64 lord lisle's daughter. 
 
 perhaps be as well that she should continue to live here, 
 and keep on the little home, for my foster-sister Daisy's 
 sake." 
 
 “ That is well and kindly thought of," said Mr. Kent. 
 
 Mrs. Feme was called in, and almost lost her senses be- 
 tween surprise and pleasure. 
 
 “ I guessed it, gentlemen," she cried. “ Over and over 
 again I have said Miss Rita was more like a queen than 
 poor Susan's child. Hot-house flowers do not grow in 
 hedge-rows. " 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 There was no rest or sleep that night for the young 
 girl, whose plan succeeded beyond her most sanguine ex- 
 pectations. No doubt had been thrown upon her word; 
 no suspicion came to the skillful lawyer, the trained detect- 
 ive, or the handsome cousin, who appeared* to know the 
 world so well. As she stood alone in her room that night, 
 her heart thrilled with triumph. Fate itself seemed to 
 have played into her hands. All she had ever wished for 
 — rank, wealth, position — were now in her grasp. Her 
 good fortune bewildered her. 
 
 Yet, as she stood there, in the very hour of her triumph, 
 solemn words, spoken long ago by her dead mother, came 
 back to her. Did an evil deed ever prosper long? Did 
 not retribution, sooner or later, overtake those who be- 
 trayed a sacred trust, and usurped rights belonging to 
 another? 
 
 “ Could evil prosper?" again and again she asked her- 
 self the question— her beautiful face becoming graver with 
 every repetition. 
 
 “ In my case it will!" she said, proudly. 44 1 have con- 
 quered circumstances, and will conquer evil, and make it 
 my good." 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Far into the night she sat with Mrs. Ferae, telling the 
 details of the story she had made her own. 
 
 44 And now it tarns out/' she said, 44 that my father is a 
 rich nobleman, and not only anxious to see me, but ready 
 to give his whole fortune for the purpose of finding me." 
 
 44 1 always thought it," said Mrs. Ferae. 44 You were 
 never like poor Susan, or Daisy, either." 
 
 44 I have one charge to leave with you," said Margaret, 
 after a few minutes of deep silence. 66 Do you remember 
 that evening, soon after my poor nurse's death, a young 
 man came here to — to say 4 good-bye 9 to me, before he 
 went to sea? Should you know him were you to see him 
 again?" 
 
 46 Yes," replied Mrs. Ferae. 44 1 could never forget his 
 dark face. " 
 
 44 He will come again," said Margaret. 44 It may be in 
 three years' time — perhaps sooner. When he comes, tell 
 him my story — tell him that my own father has claimed 
 me, and that it will be better for him to forget me, as he 
 will never see me again. No matter what he says — no 
 matter what he offers you — neither tell him my name, nor 
 where I am. 1 will reward you handsomely if you manage 
 this well." 
 
 Mrs. Ferae understood perfectly. 
 
 44 He shall never know your real name, or where you 
 live, from me," she said. 44 Make your mind easy about 
 that. He can not know them from any one else." 
 
 Margaret thought, as she stood in her room that night, 
 watching the pale stars shining in the quiet night sky, that 
 the future lay smiling before her. Balph Ashton had been 
 her only fear. Perhaps he might never return; even 
 should he come to seek her, the wonderful change in her 
 fortune would convince him that all further acquaintance 
 was impossible. The cold, ambitious heart felt no pang 
 of regret at the true love she was throwing away. 
 
 Philip Lisle looked at his cousin with critical attention 
 
 a ... 
 
66 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER, 
 
 on the following morning as they were starting on their 
 journey. There was nothing unlady-like in the long black 
 dress and sweeping mantilla. The superb beauty of the 
 southern face shone out brightly from amid the clouds of 
 black. 
 
 He looked to see if she wept on leaving the humble 
 home that had sheltered her for so long; but there was no 
 trace of tears in those dark, lustrous eyes. 
 
 It was a wonderful journey for Eita. She liked the 
 deferential homage of her three companions, who treated 
 her as though she had been a princess. She liked the ad- 
 miration her beautiful face excited. She liked being called 
 “ Miss Lisle/"’ and hearing of her father’s prestige, and 
 the grandeur of his race. 
 
 The day was drawing near its close when they reached 
 the Hall. The evening gloaming was quiet and calm; a 
 gray shadow seemed to rest upon the world; the flowers 
 were all sleeping, and the birds had gone to rest. 
 
 A bright flush rose to Margaret's face as they caught 
 sight of the Hall rising proudly from among the luxuriant 
 trees. 
 
 “ That is Lisle Court," said Philip to his cousin. 
 “ There is not a fairer, prouder home in England. Lord 
 Lisle awaits you there impatiently. " 
 
 That evening was long remembered by those who lived 
 at the Hall., Lord Lisle wished his daughter to be received 
 with all the honors due to her. The servants in livery 
 were ranged in the hall, ready to welcome their young mis- 
 tress. Mrs. Wyverne sat in the long drawing-room, in 
 great state and grandeur; but Lord Lisle was too agitated 
 for any public display. 
 
 “ Mother," said Lord Lisle, “ I can not greet my daugh- 
 ter here. I shall remain in my study. Bring her to me, 
 and leave us alone." 
 
 He sat there while the sun set in the golden west and 
 the gray glooming spread over the land. He heard at 
 / 
 
LORD lisle's daughter, 67 
 
 length the carriage wheels, and knew that in a few min- 
 utes he should see Margaret's child again. 
 
 There was a murmur of excitement as the carriage 
 stopped at the Hall door. Those who waited there saw a 
 tall, stately lady descend. There was no faltering in her 
 proud bearing; there was no emotion on the beautiful face 
 as they bent. before her in lowly greeting. 
 
 Mrs. Wyverne stepped forward, and clasped the grace- 
 ful figure in her arms. 
 
 “ Let me be the first to welcome you home," she said. 
 “I am your father's mother, Margaret, and you must 
 learn to love me." 
 
 “You are very kind," Margaret said, gently; then, 
 turning to Philip Lisle, she asked: “ Where is my father? 
 Let me see him soon." 
 
 Mrs. Wyverne took her hand, and led her through a 
 long suite of magnificent rooms. They reached the library 
 door at last, and she rapped gently. 
 
 “ Come in!" said a low, hoarse voice, unlike any she 
 had ever heard. 
 
 “ Go in alone, dear child," said Mrs. Wyverne. “ Try 
 and calm your father — he is not strong." 
 
 Eita opened the door. The room was very long, and 
 dim in the gray evening light; but at the upper end she 
 saw a figure with outstretched, trembling arms. 
 
 In fancy she had often rehearsed that scene. The real- 
 ity had come at length. 
 
 She walked quickly up the long room and threw herself 
 into the clasp of those loving arms. 
 
 “ My father," she said, gently; “ have I found you at 
 last?" 
 
 But he had no such calm words for her; his agitation 
 was pitiful to see. Deep sobs seemed to shake his strong 
 heart; tears dropped from his eyes; he clasped her in his 
 aims as though even death should not part them again. 
 
 “My darling," he said — “my little pearl — my Mar- 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 garet’s child? Thank Heaven, 1 have found you! — thank 
 Heaven, 1 hold you in my arms again !” He released her 
 then and looked at her. 44 How beautiful you are!” he 
 said, proudly. 44 You have not your mother’s sweet face 
 and calm, tender eyes. You are beautiful, like some of 
 the ladies of our race, who shone fairest among the fair! 
 Speak to me again, darling! Let me hear if you have 
 your mother’s voice?” 
 
 46 1 fear you will be disappointed in me,” she said. 46 1 
 am not like my mother; Susan Eivers told me so. She 
 was fair and gentle; I am dark, like you.” 
 
 44 She had dark hair,” said Lord Lisle; 44 not black, like 
 yours — dark and soft, like the wing of some rare bird. 
 Oh, Margaret! I have never seen you since you were a 
 little babe, and I held you in my arms. What years of 
 happiness I have lost! — but not through my fault — not my 
 fault. My heart has longed for you, darling — I have 
 thirsted for one look at your face — I would have given my 
 life to find you — but all longing seemed vain.” 
 
 She knelt by his side, and spoke gentle words that 
 soothed him, of the happiness in store for them—of the 
 long years they might yet spend together; and no remorse 
 startled her for the false words that were passing her lips. 
 
 Time seemed to fly; but Lord Lisle was roused from his 
 trance of delight by a gentle rap at the door. 
 
 44 Come in, mother,” he said, 44 1 must not be selfish; 
 let me share my happiness. Is Philip there? Come in, 
 Philip; I have much to thank you for. Come and bid my 
 beloved child thrice welcome home.” 
 
 They vied with each other who should be kindest and 
 most attentive, until, at length, Mrs. Wyverne started up, 
 saying: 44 How totally unused we are to young ladies! 
 Margaret has never had time to remove her bonnet. 
 Come with me, dear child; I will show you the rooms your 
 father has arranged for you. We found you a maid yes- 
 terday — one I think you will like. ” 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 69 
 
 Lord Lisle clasped his daughter in his arms again. 
 
 “ I shall feel anxious every moment you are out of my 
 sight,” he said. 44 Make haste, Margaret.” 
 
 The two ladies quitted the room together. Then Lord 
 Lisle, turning to his nephew, said: 44 How beautiful she is, 
 Philip — how dignified and graceful! Her voice is like 
 music. Who can have taught her such manners? Her 
 accent is refined as my own. I am as much surprised as 
 pleased.” 
 
 44 She is very beautiful,” said Philip; 44 but she does not 
 resemble you at all. Her nurse was a superior woman, 
 and appears to have strained every nerve to give both girls 
 a good education. Miss Lisle's foster-sister has gone 
 abroad as governess to some young lady.” 
 
 44 She must return, then,” said Lord Lisle. 44 1 will do 
 to her as her good and generous mother did to my child. 
 She shall be Margaret's sister still — in more than name. ” 
 
 That evening Lord Lisle seemed to regain all his lost 
 strength and energy. His mother looked on him with eyes 
 full of happy tears. 
 
 After dinner a solemn council was held in the library. 
 While it lasted, Lord Lisle held Rita's hand in his. 
 
 She showed him the proofs of her story~the letters writ- 
 ten by Margaret Wyverne, her mother, to Susan Rivers, 
 her nurse — letters that spoke so lovingly of the dear hus- 
 band who lay ill, and the little child she was so grieved to 
 leave behind her. 
 
 She showed the quaint ring, with its legend: 44 No love 
 out of this ring ” — the locket where Lord Lisle's hair was 
 intwined with that of his wife. 
 
 44 These are all my treasures,” she said. 44 My mother 
 left nothing more.” 
 
 44 They are quite enough to establish your identity,” 
 said Mr. Kent, who, at Lord Lisle's urgent request, re- 
 mained for the evening. 
 
 Lord Lisle held them in his hands. How vividly he re* 
 
70 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 membered the day he had placed that ring on his wife's 
 finger, and her pretty, happy pride when he gave her the 
 locket. 
 
 “ Margaret/' he said, “ I will give you whatever you 
 ask, if you will give me this locket and ring. Your moth- 
 er's face rises before me as I gaze upon them. You shall 
 have diamonds a queen might envy, if you will give me 
 these." 
 
 She looked at him with a bright smile. 
 
 “They are yours," she said, gently; “ even as I am 
 yours — because they belonged to my mother. No dia- 
 monds, however valuable, could pay for them." 
 
 Then a scene took place which gratified Rita's ambition. 
 Lord Lisle assembled his servants and dependents, and 
 formally introduced their young mistress; telling, in brief, 
 clear words, the story of her loss and recovery. Mrs. 
 Markham was there, and a half fear, half dread passed 
 through Rita's mind, as Lord Lisle said, with a smile: 
 “ My daughter has altered since you saw her last, and, 
 Mrs. Markham, is there any feature you recognize?" 
 
 “None, my lord," she replied. 46 1 remember her 
 mother's face vividly, but 1 can not recall Miss Lisle’s." 
 
 It was an evening of triumph unmarred by one draw- 
 back. 
 
 Lord Lisle talked much to Margaret of her foster-sister. 
 He was charmed with her replies, although he wondered 
 much that she showed no great pleasure when he avowed 
 his intention of adopting her. 
 
 “ You must lay aside this heavy mourning to-morrow," 
 said Lord Lisle. “ My mother has taken care to provide 
 you with a trousseau . 1 shall add jewelry to your taste." 
 
 When the darkness and silence of night had fallen over 
 the Hall, while Lord Lisle dreamed of his dead wife and 
 living child, Margaret said to herself: “ It was a brilliant 
 play, and I acted my part well." 
 
L0RD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 n 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A month passed, and Margaret found herself with 
 every wish of her heart gratified. She had longed for rich 
 dresses wherewith to adorn the wondrous beauty that had 
 been so fatal a dower. She had them now in abundance. 
 Mrs. Wyverne herself selected a trousseau that might have 
 suited a princess. Lord Lisle wished that neither expense 
 nor trouble should be spared. She had longed for jewels; 
 her father gave her the celebrated “ Lisle diamonds” — 
 considered by connoisseurs as some of the finest stones in 
 England. He lavished presents upon her — delicate, glow- 
 ing pearls; opals of rare and beautiful hues; rich rubies, 
 “ flashing red;” emeralds with a rare, golden light in their 
 green depths. There were times when she shut herself in 
 her room alone with her treasures; she took them from 
 their velvet beds, and placed them on her neck and arms; 
 and as she did so, and the wondrous diamonds flashed like 
 points of flame, she smiled contemptuously over the ear- 
 rings Ralph had given her and which she had once thought 
 so magnificent. 
 
 A French waiting-maid, who understood her business 
 and knew how to make the most of Rita’s dark, glowing 
 beauty, had been engaged to attend her. Lord Lisle pur- 
 chased a magnificent horse especially for her, and she was, 
 in a very short time, taught to ride; everything that love, 
 luxury, or comfort could suggest was always at her com- 
 mand to the very moment. 
 
 On the day following her arrival. Lord Lisle himself 
 took her over the Hall, showing her the state-rooms, the 
 picture-gallery, the magnificent modern apartments, the 
 treasures of art, the statues brought from Italy, the gold 
 and silver plate — in itself worth a king’s ransom. 
 
 He was proud of the beautiful girl who swept through 
 
72 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 these gorgeous rooms; she said nothing of the wonder they 
 excited in her. That, she thought, would show a want of 
 good taste. But when they came to the picture-gallery, 
 and Lord Lisle raised the heavy velvet hangings, she stood 
 for a few minutes in mute surprise. 
 
 “It is a grand old place — my father !" she said, 
 proudly. 
 
 44 And a grand old race to whom it belongs/' he replied. 
 44 1 know of no family whose annals are so stainless as our 
 own. Our men have ever been brave, our women pure. 
 No Lisle ever yet brought even the shadow of shame or 
 disgrace upon his name. The deepest regret of my life is 
 that your mother did not live to take her place here." 
 
 44 Have you no portrait of my mother?" asked Rita. 
 
 “Yes," replied Lord Lisle. “I shall take it to Italy 
 with me and have a larger one painted from it, to hang up 
 here. There will be no sweeter, fairer face in the gallery 
 than that of Margaret Lisle!" 
 
 They went on through the long corridors, until they 
 reached the eastern wing of the Hall. 
 
 44 There are some nice rooms here," said Lord Lisle, 
 44 but they have not been used of late years. Dame Sybella 
 Lisle died here, and her portrait hangs still in her room. 
 We will go to see it. It is considered a fine work of art." 
 
 But when they stood before it, Rita, for one half mo^ 
 ment, lost her self-command, her lips grew white, and a 
 dark shadow dimmed her eyes as she gazed upon it. 
 
 The face was pure and fair, with a refined spiritual ex- 
 pression on the delicate features; the brow was clear and 
 pure; the violet eyes lustrous and tender; bright golden 
 hair rippled over a white neck; the sweet lips were parted 
 with a smile; it was the very face of Daisy — Daisy whom 
 she had betrayed, robbed of her birthright, and deceived! 
 
 44 1 must have the picture removed. It should be in the 
 gallery, not here!" 
 
 44 Are these rooms ever used?" asked Rita. 
 
tOKD LISLE*S DAtTGHTEk. 
 
 “Not often,* replied Lord Lisle. “A gem like this 
 should not hang here unnoticed. It is one of the finest 
 pictures we have. I must attend to the removal.* 
 
 Even as he spoke, Rita was thinking how it could best 
 be destroyed. Daisy’s face resembled it so perfectly, that 
 every one must observe the likeness. Rapidly as lightning 
 the thought passed through her mind. 
 
 “ Grant me a favor, dear papa!* she said. “ I like this 
 picture; will you allow me to have it in my own room?” 
 
 Only too pleased to comply with any request that came 
 from his darling child. Lord Lisle consented. Before 
 night the portrait of Lady Sybella Lisle was hung in her 
 room. 
 
 “You like your home, then, Margaret?* said Lord 
 Lisle, as they stood upon the broad terrace overlooking 
 the fragrant flower garden. 
 
 “ Yes,* she replied, gently. “ My only regret is that I 
 lid not know it years ago.* 
 
 “ It has not been mine very long,* said Lord Lisle. 
 
 £ You should understand that Lisle Court and the title 
 Are both entailed. At my death they go to Philip. He 
 will be Lord Lisle.* He did not see the dismayed expres- 
 sion that crossed her face, but continued: “ The estates of 
 Helsmeir, in Scotland, and Endsleigh in Yorkshire, are 
 my own. They are not entailed. At my death they will 
 be yours; but Lisle Court goes to Philip, together with all 
 the fair, broad domain that surrounds it. * 
 
 She made no reply, but the words were never forgotten. 
 
 Lord Lisle watched his daughter attentively. Her 
 beauty and dignity charmed him. She never betrayed any 
 ungainliness or awkwardness of manner. There was noth- 
 ing in her that told how the early years of her life had 
 been spent. Her accent was good — she spoke well — she 
 was quick and apt in imitation; but there was a something 
 wanting. She had wit and repartee; but Lord Lisle saw 
 plainly that at times in conversation she was lost. Sh© 
 
?4 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 could not speak of books— she had read but little— or of 
 pictures. She knew little of art or of music. She did not 
 know the names of leading statesmen; and occasionally 
 Lord Lisle detected a flush of annoyance on the beautiful 
 face when she felt her own deficiencies. 
 
 He talked long and earnestly to Mrs. Wy verne; and be- 
 tween them a plan was arranged which they thought would 
 settle all difficulties. 
 
 Lord Lisle went in search of his daughter. He found 
 her in the garden, sitting under the spreading shade of a 
 large cedar-tree. 
 
 “ Rita,” he said, gently, sitting on the grass by her side, 
 “ we must have a long conversation. How old are you?” 
 
 “ Just eighteen!” she replied, with some little surprise. 
 
 Then Lord Lisle, with paternal fondness, clasped her 
 hands in his. 
 
 “ You must not be hurt or vexed at what 1 am going to 
 say, my darling,” he began, “ and, above all, do not think 
 I am dissatisfied with you. I am more proud of you than 
 of anything else in the world. But there are a few little 
 deficiencies we must try to remedy. It is usual for a young 
 lady of your rank and position to be presented at Court, 
 and make her debut in the grand world.” 
 
 “Yes,” she said, brightly; “ grandmamma has been 
 telling me all about it. 1 am impatient for the time to 
 come.” 
 
 “You must learn to wait,” he replied, with a smile. 
 “ It is on this subject 1 want to speak to you. You are 
 only eighteen. I should like you to devote two entire 
 years to fitting yourself for your place in the world.” He 
 saw the keen look of disappointment, and hastened to add: 
 “ They shall be happy years, my darling. I will take you 
 abroad. We will go to France and to Italy. We will 
 take with us some clever and accomplished lady, who will 
 give you what my mother calls finishing touches. You 
 must learn the names of great authors and read their 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 75 
 
 works. You must see the finest pictures in Italy, and 
 learn all about the artists who painted them. You must 
 study the great world, its code of manners, its forms and 
 etiquette, before you go into it.” 
 
 44 I understand,” she said, sadly. 
 
 44 Nay,” said Lord Lisle; 44 it is a matter for smiles, not 
 sighs. 1 venture to predict, Eita, that in two years’ time, 
 when we return, you will create a sensation not easily for- 
 gotten. You might do so now, but I prefer this time of 
 probation. What do you say — are you willing?” 
 
 44 Yes,” she replied, 44 and grateful. 1 see how neces- 
 sary it is.” 
 
 44 Did you ever learn anything of music or singing?” 
 asked Lord Lisle. 
 
 44 No,” she replied. 44 My foster-sister Daisy sings.” 
 
 44 Ah, well,” said Lord Lisle, 44 we must never dream 
 of blaming poor Susan; it was quite natural that she 
 should do the best for her own child. She has received a 
 better education than you?” 
 
 44 Yes,” was the false answer. 44 Mrs. Eivers was every- 
 thing that was kind to me; but she treated Daisy differ- 
 ently.” 
 
 The words rang out clear and soft on the bright summer 
 air, and no one was there to say how cruel and false they 
 were. 
 
 “That reminds me,” said Lord Lisle. 44 1 am very 
 anxious, Eita, that your foster-sister should come to live 
 with you. 1 owe to her mother a debt of gratitude that 
 nothing can pay. I want to do as she did — make her 
 child my own.” 
 
 No light or happiness came into the beautiful face Lord 
 Lisle watched so lovingly. 
 
 44 Of course you love her very dearly?” he continued. 
 
 44 Yes,” she replied, calmly. 44 1 loved poor little 
 Daisy,” but the tone of voice in which she spoke had no 
 ring of music — no enthusiasm. 
 
?6 
 
 LOtU) LISLE^S DAtJGtITEB. 
 
 44 Is she plain or stupid?” asked Lord Lisle, anxiously. 
 
 44 Neither,” she replied, more earnestly. 44 1 think her 
 pretty. She is very fair and gentle; fond of reading and 
 drawing. Oh, papa, they were kind to me, but I was not 
 happy there. I should like to forget that past, and Daisy 
 would remind me of it.” 
 
 Lord Lisle looked hurt and disappointed. With her 
 keen, shrewd instinct she saw and noted it. 
 
 44 Do not misunderstand me, dear papa,” she said. 
 44 Like yourself, I feel all that I owe to Daisy's mother. I 
 would cheerfully give Daisy all I have, but I — do not laugh* 
 at me — I want to be alone with you a little longer. She is 
 clever; she sings sweetly; perhaps you might love her bet- 
 ter than your own poor little Rita.” 
 
 She looked so beautiful, so loving and charming, that 
 Lord Lisle clasped her in his arms and laughed heartily. 
 
 44 Jealous!” he said. 44 You are positively jealous, 
 Rita! Well, your quiet shall not be disturbed yet. You 
 tell me Daisy is with her friends at Florence. We may 
 see her there, and then we can arrange. I must leave you 
 now. I am going over to Grafton Hall. Tell me, may I 
 consider the matter settled? Are you willing to go 
 abroad?” 
 
 44 1 shall like it above all things,” she said, gayly. 44 1 
 shall soon learn all about the great world, papa.” 
 
 Lord Lisle left her sitting under the grand old cedar- 
 tree. As he went down the broad path he turned to look 
 once more at her. She was smiling at him, and he thought 
 in all the world there was nothing so bright or beautiful as 
 his daughter's face. When he disappeared from among 
 the green trees, the smile died away, the brightness all 
 faded. A look of care and anxiety came over the darl$ 
 eyes. 
 
 44 1 must do something,” she said. 44 She must not 
 come here! No human evidence can ever be brought 
 against me; but that face will strike every one! She must 
 
LORD lisle’s daughter, 77 
 
 uot come until 1 am safe — until I am Philip Lisle’s wife! 
 Nothing can matter then!” 
 
 While the birds sung, and the fair flowers bloomed — 
 while the sun shone, and the soft summer air whispered of 
 love, peace, and happiness, she sat thinking, scheming, 
 and inventing. 
 
 She had succeeded beyond her wildest hopes. Her fraud 
 had been a complete success. There came to her no re- 
 morseful memory of the dying mother whose trust she had 
 betrayed; no compunction or sorrow for the gentle girl 
 from whom she had stolen home, love, and everything 
 else. 
 
 She sat through the summer morning, busy with two 
 thoughts. One was how to keep Daisy from Lisle Court; 
 the other, how to win the heart of Philip Lisle. The 
 whole ambition of her soul was centered in that one idea 
 — she must be Lady Lisle— Lady Margaret Lisle! As she 
 murmured the name to herself a smile rippled over her 
 lips, for she thought of Kalph Ashton and the vow he had 
 forced her to take. She thought of him without love — 
 without anything but contempt. The fierce, passionate 
 love he had lavished upon her was forgotten or unheeded. 
 She disliked even to think of that miserable past. She 
 was to be Lady Lisle! 
 
 Lord Lisle did not delay in making arrangements. Be- 
 fore the end of the week he had secured the assistance of a 
 clever, accomplished lady, the widow of one of his fellow- 
 officers, a high-bred, refined woman, who gladly undertook 
 the charge of his daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Marche seemed instinctively to understand all that 
 was required of her. She was to help the young lady to 
 acquire a polish and grace of manner that as yet she had 
 not. She was to teach those little mysteries of etiquette 
 that can only be learned from those accustomed to good 
 society. Far as lay in her power, she was to cultivate her 
 mind and intellect/ 
 
78 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Mrs. Wyverne remained at Lisle Court. Philip Lisle 
 thought it probable that he might join his uncle in Italy 
 when he went there. They were to go to Paris first, and 
 remain there a year. During that year masters of all 
 kinds were to instruct Miss Lisle. She resolved to devote 
 herself to study and acquiring the polish of high life. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The year passed rapidly enough. At its close Margaret 
 was barely recognizable. All that cultivation could do for 
 her was done. All trace of the cottage education had dis- 
 appeared; the musical voice had become clear and distinct 
 as a silver bell; all little eccentricities of speech and man- 
 ner had disappeared; her language, even, had become re- 
 markable for its elegant simplicity and force. 
 
 The half-conscious manner had disappeared, and a 
 graceful dignity had taken its place. Margaret had spared 
 no pains. She read, and, above all, listened to the. con- 
 versation of clever and talented men. She was so quick, 
 so apt in all imitation, that nothing escaped her. The 
 names of great men and great works were no longer a dead 
 letter to her; she could converse intelligently and well. 
 Her wonderful beauty had been carefully cultivated also. 
 Few would have recognized in the queenly girl, whose 
 magnificent face drew all eyes, the rustic beauty who had 
 listened so eagerly to Ralph Ashton's praises. 
 
 Lord Lisle was more than satisfied with that one year's 
 training. 
 
 News came often from England. Mrs. Wvyerne found 
 plenty to do in managing the Hall. Philip was busily 
 engaged in the care of the estate. Lord Lisle wrote, press- 
 ing him to join them at Rome, and spend some months 
 with them. 
 
 “ Do come, Philip," he wrote, 1 want you to see 
 
LORD lisle’s daughter. 79 
 
 what progress Rita has made. I want to know what you 
 think of her/' 
 
 They went to Naples, and from there Lord Lisle wrote 
 a most kind letter to Daisy, pressing her to pay them a 
 visit. 
 
 44 I want you to live with us,” he said; 46 to be as one of 
 my own children; to be Rita’s sister, as you have always 
 been. Come and stay with us for some months first, and 
 then we c%n decide about the future. ” 
 
 And Daisy, in reply, said that in two months the term 
 for which she had engaged herself to the Denhams would 
 expire, and then she would gladly rejoin her sister. 
 Philip’s letter reached Naples the same morning, saying 
 he should be with them during that week. 
 
 He came one beautiful evening when the sky was 
 cloudless, and the waters of the bay, half blue, half 
 golden, rippled and broke musically upon the shore. 
 Lord Lisle had gone out, and Mrs. Marche was engaged 
 when he arrived. He was ushered into a room that 
 seemed to be all sunlight and flowers. He saw there a 
 dignified and beautiful woman, who received him with ex- 
 quisite grace. He cried out in amazement, 44 Miss Lisle, 
 how you have altered! I did not know you.” 
 
 Nor could he cease from wondering. His eyes wandered 
 from the peerless face to the magnificent dress. In^his 
 ears the musical voice lingered like a spell. Could this be 
 the young girl he had found in the little cottage at 
 Queen’s Lynne? Rita saw and noted his surnrise. It was 
 to her the most flattering compliment he could have paid. 
 She remembered her first interview with him, when he had 
 seemed to her something quite different from the common 
 race of men. His handsome face and high-bred manner, 
 his careless ease and debonair style, had charmed and 
 amazed her. She had seen no one like him. And now 
 this man, who had appeared to her like a king, grew con- 
 fused in her presence. They had changed places. 
 
80 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Philip received the warmest welcome from Lord Lisle. 
 
 44 You will stay with us, of course,” he said. “ Do not 
 talk of hotels; we shall be quite a happy family. Do just 
 as you like, but do not think of leaving us.” 
 
 When they were alone. Lord Lisle turned to his kins- 
 man. 
 
 44 Philip,” he said, gravely, 44 tell me the exact truth; 
 what do you think of Margaret now?” 
 
 44 My dear uncle,” he replied, 44 you might jqst as well 
 ask me to write a poem, or paint a picture. In a few 
 words, she is the most perfectly beautiful girl I ever saw; 
 the change *jn her is so marvelous. 1 see no fault or 
 blemish, and my whole heart rejoices in your happiness.” 
 Lord Lisle looked delighted. 
 
 44 I shall take her home next year and introduce her,” 
 he said. 44 1 long to see her take her place in the great 
 world.” 
 
 44 She will adorn it,” said Philip. 44 How about her 
 foster-sister? Have you seen her yet?” 
 
 44 J3he will join us in a few weeks, I expect,” replied 
 Lord Lisle; 44 we shall all return to England together. 
 You must go with me to GarcPs studio to-morrow, and see 
 the copy he is making of my dear wife^s portrait. ” 
 
 44 Miss Lisle does not in the least resemble any of the 
 ladies of* our race,” said the young man. 
 
 44 No, not much. But, Philip, related as we are, why 
 do you persist in calling my daughter Miss Lisle? Surely 
 she may be Margaret to you.” 
 
 44 My dear uncle,” replied the young man, his face 
 flushing, 44 1 should require desperate courage to make the 
 attempt. Believe me, at present I dare not. 1 can im- 
 agine the flash of those black eyes, if I venture to call their 
 owner 4 Margaret/ ” 
 
 Lord Lisle laughed with quiet amusement. Rita’s dig- 
 nity and hauteur had often pleased and surprised him; and 
 
XOED lisle’s daughter. 
 
 81 
 
 now, to see that they produced the same effect upon his 
 gay and handsome young kinsman,, pleased him still more. 
 
 A new life began for Eita — a new revelation came to her 
 under that Neapolitan sky. She had played at love with 
 Ealph Ashton. She had always thought of it as a means 
 to an end. In her own mind she laughed at all pathetic 
 stories. Eiches, honor, title, with her all ranked before 
 love. She thought but little of it. She had no sweet, 
 girlish dreams of something to come which should brighten 
 her life and change it. But her heart was waking. She 
 had planned to herself a marriage with Philip Lisle, but 
 love had no part in the plan. 
 
 Her heart was waking from its long dream of vanity and 
 coldness. Philip V face haunted her. She could not for- 
 get it. His voice sounded ever in her ears — so gay, so 
 generous, chivalrous, and noble. Who was like him? 
 No false or mean word ever stained his lips — no selfish 
 thought ever came near him. He was not handsome as an 
 Apollo, or gifted with the keenest intellect; but his kind- 
 ly, comely face had all the charm of truth and nobility. 
 One felt instinctively, on looking at him, that he was a 
 man in whose hands honor and life might safely be 
 trusted; and withal, he had a high-bred, degage manner 
 that fascinated and won all who approached him. 
 
 The time came to Eita when the name of Philip Lisle 
 sounded like sweetest music in her ears — earth held none 
 sweeter; when to be near him, to hear him talk, to feel 
 his admiring glance upon her, was the keenest pleasure 
 earth could give her — keener far than the happiness that 
 she found in wealth and honor. She began to study him, 
 to lay herself out to please him; the proud face softened 
 for him; the haughty lips gave him smiles and words no 
 other ever received. It was a wonderful love — wonderful 
 from its concentration. She had no other thought, no 
 other idea. To have won him she would have laid down 
 her life. Such a love might have been the redemption of 
 
83 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 another woman; in that grand, erring, ambitious nature 
 it was but another source of destruction. 
 
 Philip admired his cousin; he thought her wonderfully 
 beautiful and most wonderfully proud. He was kind and 
 affectionate to her, after the manner of an elder brother; 
 but as to love, he never even gave it a thought; it never 
 occurred to him to fall in love with Lord Lisle's daughter. 
 
 It was a new life to her — new and strange. Beauty 
 seemed to have fallen over the world. Sunshine and 
 flowers spoke to her as they had never done before. Gen- 
 tle thoughts came to her — the fierce ambition and pride 
 that had led her into great crime faded. There were times 
 even when she longed to be good and true, that she might 
 be worthy of his love, when she would have wished the sin 
 “ unsinned.” She understood him well; she read the 
 loyal, simple nature that could forgive any crime save one 
 like hers. She knew that if ever Philip Lisle should learn 
 what she had done, he would never look at her or speak to 
 her again. u But there is no danger,” she said to herself 
 — “ there is no danger. He will never know.” 
 
 She tried to win him. She used her beauty, her talents, 
 her wit; but all in vain. When the blue sea was calm 
 they sailed for hours together over the sunlit waters of the 
 bay; they wandered through groves of fragrant orange- 
 trees; they lingered by the purple vines and green myrtle; 
 but in no place, and at no hour, did Philip ever utter those 
 words she longed to hear. 
 
 Lord Lisle had taken a pretty villa on the outskirts of 
 Naples. Beautiful gardens surrounded it, sloping down to 
 the water's edge. The windows were thickly covered with 
 creeping flowers and bright blossoms; the balconies looked 
 like one mass of evergreen. 
 
 The room they preferred had a large window opening on 
 a balcony, around which the vines clung in profusion; they 
 hung in such thick clusters that one standing outside could 
 hardly be seen by those in the room. Lord Lisle liked 
 
83 
 
 LORD LISLE^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 that balcony better than any other part,, of the house. 
 From it there was a view unequaled for beauty^ne Bay 
 of Naples lay shining in the summer su^f "the distant 
 mountains raised their tall heads; all the luxuriant loveli- 
 ness of the fair land was spread out in one gorgeous pict- 
 ure. In this balcony Lord Lisle passed many happy hours. 
 He learned there, too, a secret that even in death he never 
 forgot. 
 
 One morning, when Rita was busily engaged with Mrs. 
 Marche, he went to say good-bye for a few hours. He 
 kissed her, and said he should soon return. On leaving 
 the house, however, Lord Lisle found the sun so warm 
 that he resolved to defer his visit until evening. He re- 
 entered the house unseen by any one except the servant 
 who admitted him, fetched a book, then retired to his 
 favorite balcony to read. The shade of the vine-leaves was 
 most grateful, and he was congratulating himself upon his 
 wisdom when Margaret entered the room, and Philip fol- 
 lowed her. 
 
 “Lord Lisle is out/’ said Philip. “I think I shall 
 follow his example. These sunny days are made for out- 
 door enjoyment. 
 
 “ If a broiling sun gives enjoyment,” said Rita, “you 
 will have plenty of it. You said something about reading 
 to us this morning.” 
 
 Philip laughed gayly. 
 
 “ Imagine,” he said, “ reading 6 Lalla Rookh 9 on a day 
 like this! I never can be sentimental when the sun is 
 warm. Ah, Miss Lisle, I must crave pardon for my bad 
 taste, but 1 think a row on tharsmilingTeS^rfliHbe better 
 than all the poetry that ever was written. ” 
 
 A pained, wistful look came over her face. Lord Lisle 
 was about to speak, when Philip resumed, ga}dy, “ I am 
 always at your service, but 1 think our reading will come 
 off better in the evening; my uncle enjoys it then.” 
 
84 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER, 
 
 Something constrained and unnatural in Margaret’s 
 voice caught Lord Lisle’s attention. 
 
 “ Let it be so, then/’ she said, quietly. A beautiful 
 bouquet of orange-blossom and myrtles lay upon the table 
 near her. She took it in her hands. 
 
 ‘‘How fragrant those flowers are!” said Philip. She 
 selected the prettiest spray of blossoms, and held it out to 
 him. 
 
 He took it from her, held it carelessly for a few mo- 
 ments, then laid it down upon the table. 
 
 “ The perfume is overpowering this morning,” he said. 
 “ After all, 1 like our English flowers best. Nothing can 
 equal our violets and lilies. There is as much, and just 
 the same kind of difference between Italian and English 
 flowers, as there is between Italian and English women. 
 Do you not think so, Miss Lisle?” 
 
 “ It is possible,” she said. “ I like the fragrant, richly 
 colored flowers the best. ” 
 
 Philip laughed, and, with a bow to his cousin, quitted 
 the room, leaving the sprig of orange-blossom carelessly 
 upon the table. 
 
 For some moments she stood listening to the echo of his 
 footsteps. The sound ceased at last, and she knelt where 
 he had stood, burying her face in the flowers. She wept 
 with a passionate abandonment pitiful to see. 
 
 “ He does not love me!” she said; “ he does not even 
 care for me! The flower 1 gave him is of no value. He 
 does not care for me, and I — oh, dear Heaven! — 1 love 
 him better than my life!” 
 
 When the passionate fit of weeping ended, she took the 
 little flower and left the room. 
 
 Lord Lisle saw and heard it all. His first emotion was 
 one of unmitigated surprise; his second, one of profound 
 pity for his daughter. 
 
 “ She loves him,” he said to himself. “ I believed her 
 
LORD lisle’s daughter. 85 
 
 too proud to love any man. Ah, if her mother had lived, 
 she would have known what to do!” 
 
 Lord Lisle never mentioned that little scene. On his 
 daughter’s face, when they next met, there was no sign of 
 love. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Lord Lisle continually thought of that scene — those 
 passionate tears — that bitter cry. He knew that his 
 proud, beautiful daughter loved her cousin with all the 
 force of her heart — with all the strength of her nature. 
 He was grieved, for he saw nothing like love on Philip’s 
 part. No one could be more chivalrous, gay, and kind 
 than Lord Lisle’s heir, but there was no love either in his 
 looks or words. 
 
 He watched his daughter; but she never betrayed her 
 secret. At times, when Philip spoke to her suddenly, he 
 saw her face flush and her dark, lustrous eyes grow 
 brighter. But pride and hauteur wrapped her round like 
 a garment. He could have believed the scene he had wit- 
 nessed from the balcony a dream. 
 
 He saw, too, that although Rita guarded her secret as 
 she guarded her life, there were times when she was jeal- 
 ous of every one else to whom Philip spoke. The pretty, 
 fair-haired Countess Guardi was then considered the belle 
 of Naples. Fair and coquettish, with bright eyes, charm- 
 ing smiles, and winning words, she was more popular and 
 more admired than any other woman in Naples. 
 
 She liked Philip, and immediately upon her introduction 
 began a little flirtation with him. She gave him her 
 brightest smiles and gayest words, much to the amuse- 
 ment of her indulgent husband, who looked with some- 
 thing like commiseration on his wife’s favorite. 
 
 L It was all innocent nonsense, and the count knew it* 
 
86 LORD LISLE*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 His pretty, petted wile must have homage and admira- 
 tion. 
 
 Lord Lisle and his daughter received many invitations 
 to the Villa Guardi, the beautiful and luxurious home of 
 the fair-haired countess. She was fond of charades— of 
 operettas — of tableaus. Miss Lisle charmed her; that 
 dark, magnificent beauty was the very foil she needed for 
 her own. She was never weary in arranging tableaus in 
 which she could act with Miss Lisle. 
 
 All the gayety and fashion of Naples assembled at the 
 villa; dances, soirees, evening parties, morning rides, ex- 
 cursions both on sea and land, were constantly going on; 
 the center and soul of all were the Countess Guardi and 
 Miss Lisle. 
 
 The Neapolitans raved about her; the fair face, with its 
 delicate rose-leaf bloom, the dark, lustrous eyes, and mag- 
 nificent crown of black hair, had a great charm. “ The 
 beautiful Miss Lisle!” Gentlemen flirted with the pretty 
 countess, but they admired Miss Lisle. 
 
 Lord Lisle was delighted at his daughter’s success. 
 Mingling with this, the best and highest society in Naples, 
 her manners became formed, her natural taste for all that 
 was elegant became developed. He saw the time had 
 come when he might safely present his daughter, and the 
 most fastidious could find no fault in her. 
 
 Eita might have had lovers in abundance — Italian 
 counts, French gentlemen, and Austrian nobles would fain 
 have wooed and won the beautiful daughter of the rich 
 English nobleman; but she smiled upon none. She ac- 
 cepted their homage in a queenly, graceful way that was 
 infinitely charming and full of piquancy. ' None of them 
 had pcwer to move her. Lord Lisle laughed at her nu- 
 merous conquests; Philip rallied her; Mrs. Marche was 
 proud of her pupil; but Eita cared little. Her ambition 
 was gratified; men hung upon her words; they would have 
 risked much for her smiles; she could rule brave and 
 
LORD LTSLE ? S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Doble hearts, touch them with a look, move them with a 
 word. She was courted, admired, aud flattered; homage 
 and adulation followed her; but the time came when Rita 
 would have yielded this sovereignty of youth and beauty 
 for one smile from Philip. 
 
 The Countess Guardi sent out invitations for a ball. 
 “It was to be/’ she said, “a faint imitation of fairy- 
 land.” No one was asked who had not some special claim 
 to public favor — pretty 'girls, eligible men, but no 
 “bores.” The number of guests invited was small. 
 The rooms were splendidly decorated with flowers; the 
 long conservatories were lighted up; lamps gleamed like 
 stars amid the green foliage and rich blossoms; pretty 
 fountains rippled musically out in the pleasure grounds, 
 that ran down to the shore; the lights shone amid the 
 trees. Every one talked of the recherche entertainment 
 given by the fair countess. 
 
 Lord Lisle wished his daughter to look her best on this 
 evening; he thought it impossible that Philip could help 
 loving her. He wished his nephew to see her in the full 
 blaze of her regal beauty — the queen of the ball, admired 
 and sought by all. 
 
 The same idea came to Rita herself. She spared no 
 pains over her toilet, and its result was perfection. Mis. 
 Marche, whose taste was far more than good, chose the 
 style of dress. 
 
 A rich, sweeping, flowing robe of rose-colored satin, 
 shaded with costly white lace, that fell like a white, soft 
 cloud. Costly diamonds were clasped round the white 
 throat and on the fair, rounded arms. Diamonds glis- 
 tened in the coils of black hair that crowned the queenly 
 head, and a beautiful blush-rose nestled against her bosom. 
 
 When Rida entered/he room where Lord Lisle and Philip 
 awaited her, they both started with admiration. Lord 
 Lisle kissed the beautiful face with proud, tender aCeo* 
 tion. Philip said, gayly, “Ah, Miss Lisle, our littla 
 
88 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 countess will be eclipsed this evening. Old England will 
 show her supremacy. 1 place myself in the ranks of the 
 red rose.” 
 
 Rita was charmed by the fairy-like scene. The soft, 
 sweet music seemed to thrill the air; rare perfumes came 
 from rose-flowers; the little fountains rippled musically. 
 
 44 There are pleasant scenes in this world,” she said, 
 turning to Philip. 44 There are two sides to life. This is 
 the bright one; the other—” 
 
 44 The other you shall never see,” he interrupted. 
 “Ah! ma belle cousine , moralizing in a ball-room — how 
 thoroughly English!” 
 
 44 Thoughts fly swiftly,” she replied; 44 the ripple of 
 that water took me back for one moment to Queen’s 
 Lynne. I was on the sea-shore.” 
 
 44 Forget that miserable time,” said Philip, warmly. 
 44 We all try our best to make you forget it, Rita; do we 
 not?” 
 
 He had never called her Rita before, and a warm flush 
 covered her face. The rose in her bosom trembled with 
 the quick beating of her heart. 
 
 Before she had time to reply the countess joined them. 
 
 44 1 am so glad you have come!” she said, in her pretty 
 broken English. 44 My rooms seemed dark without you.” 
 
 She spoke to Rita and looked at Philip. He, perfectly 
 accustomed to the lady’s arrangements of look and speech, 
 was much amused. 
 
 In a few minutes Miss Lisle was the center of a group of 
 admirers. Then she showed to advantage; bright, witty 
 words, clever sayings, graceful actions and movements 
 charmed her courtiers. Prince Dalgarin prayed for the 
 first waltz. She had hoped Philip would care for that, 
 but he was still talking to their . fair hostess. Count 
 >d’ Arni, one of the proudest men in Naples, sued humbly 
 for the second. 
 
 It seemed like a dream. She was strongly haunted that 
 
to RD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 89 
 
 -night by the recollection of Queen's Lynne. In every 
 pause of the soft, sweet music she heard the sea beating in 
 and breaking upon the shore. She heard Ralph Ashton 
 crying out that he loved her and could not live without 
 her. It was like a dream that she should be queen of that 
 brilliant room; that men of noble birth and high estate 
 should sue so humbly for one smile. Yet it was all true, 
 and she had done all this for herself. 
 
 44 It has prospered," she thought to herself, 44 after all. 
 
 It is not true to say that evil never succeeds — evil has been 
 my good." 
 
 It was later on in the evening when Philip sought Rita's 
 side. 
 
 “ Can you find time for one dance with me?" he asked, 
 gently. 44 You are surrounded by so many courtiers I 
 have little chance, I fear." 
 
 He was somewhat startled by the expression of her eyes 
 as she raised them to his face; for once her secret shone 
 there — passion and tenderness lingered in their dark 
 depths. In her heart she was wondering that he did not 
 know how utterly indifferent she was to every one but 
 himself. 
 
 Her only reply was rising and placing her hand on his 
 arm. Rita was a good dancer — graceful and easy, every 
 movement full of harmony and the very poetry of motion. 
 
 The music sounded sweetly and softly. She never for- 
 got the happiness of that time. Philip's face smiling down 
 into hers; Philip's arm, with its strong, light clasp around 
 her; Philip's voice whispering kind words — it was one half 
 hour of perfect happiness. She saw admiring eyes follow 
 her; she heard murmurs of admiration from those who 
 watched her; but she was indifferent to all and everything 
 save Philip. 
 
 The last notes of the waltz died away, and Philip, turn- * 4 ; 
 ing to her, said: 
 
 44 You must be tired — " He stopped abruptly as his 
 
so 
 
 lord Lisle's daughter. 
 
 glance fell upon her bright face. He saw the light in he* 
 dark eyes; he saw the blush-rose in her bosom; its fra- 
 grance came to him like a faint, sweet whisper. Her 
 beauty had never struck Philip so forcibly before. “ You 
 should be tired,” he resumed, “but 1 see no trace of 
 fatigue.” 
 
 “ And I feel none,” she replied, with a smile. 
 
 She carried in her hand a bouquet of white roses and 
 lilies. Philip bent over them. 
 
 “ Give me one of those flowers, lelle cousine ,” he said, 
 “ in memory of a dance 1 shall never forget. ” 
 
 He meant nothing more than a pretty, flattering com- 
 pliment, but the words thrilled the girl's heart. She took 
 a delicate rosebud, half shrouded in green leaves, from her 
 fragrant bouquet. 
 
 “You will leave it somewhere to fade and die,” she 
 said. 
 
 “ Nay,” replied Philip, gallantly; “it shall live near 
 my heart.” 
 
 A shadow startled them. Looking up, Rita saw the 
 countess by her side. The pretty coquette was looking 
 her best that evening. Her rich white dress was looped 
 up with white lilies, her fair hair beautifully arranged; 
 white lilies drooped from it; the same delicate flowers 
 nestled in her bodice. 
 
 “ I am interrupting a pretty scene,” she said. “ You 
 English people understand the sentimental, after all. Mr. 
 Lisle, 1 have been looking for you. The Princess Dorieti 
 wishes for an introduction. Prepare yourself to be all 
 that is fascinating.” 
 
 Philip did not respond with his usual alacrity, and a 
 pretty look, half smile, half frown, came over the lady's 
 face. 
 
 “ I see,” she said. “ You would rather remain here.” 
 
 “ Yes,” said Philip. “ If 1 consulted inclination only 
 
LORD LISLE*S DAUGHTER. 91 
 
 1 would rather remain here; but your wish, Madame la 
 Comtessa, is my law.” 
 
 “ I shall be glad to rest here for a few minutes,” said 
 Rita. “ Do not mind leaving me alone.” 
 
 They went away together. She wished to be alone to 
 dream over the happiness that she believed was coming to 
 her — to dream over the words and looks that made her 
 music and sunshine. Not there, where at any moment a 
 gay crowd might surround her. Rita went through the 
 long conservatory, out into the pleasant, moonlit garden, 
 where the lilies and roses perfumed the night air. She sat 
 down on one of the pretty seats placed near the fountain. 
 The night was solemn and still; pale stars gleamed in the 
 darkling sky, the moonbeams gave a silver radiance to 
 water and trees; the flowers were sleeping; only the roses 
 seemed to be awake and greeting her with perfume. Far 
 off, like the sweet, faint echo of a dream, she heard the 
 rise and fall of the music. She was alone — alone with the 
 beauty of the summer night and her own love. 
 
 “ He is beginning to love me,” she thought. 
 
 He had called her Rita; he had lingered by her side; he 
 had asked for the flower. He would love her in time; and 
 earth held no pleasure, no happiness, for her save in his 
 love. She had believed ambition, pride, and love of ad- 
 miration to be the master-passions of her life. This love 
 was even stronger. She would rather — ah! ten thousand 
 times rather — be poor with Philip than share the throne 
 of a king. 
 
 “ I love him,” she murmured — “ who never knew what 
 love meant — who never cared for it! 1 love him — and he 
 must love me in return!” 
 
 Nothing like pity crossed her mind for the man who had 
 cared so much for her — who had left her believing that 
 she would be true to him and wait for him. 
 
 When the thought of Ralph Ashton came it was with a 
 sense of loathing and contempt— a wonder that she could 
 
92 LORD LtSLE*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ever have endured the sound of his voice or the touch of 
 his hands. 
 
 Out among the lilies and roses she dreamed of the love 
 she hoped to win— of the bright future, of the title, the 
 honors, the grandeur that awaited her. The solemn stars, 
 the sleeping flowers, the whispering night wind brought no 
 bright or holy thoughts — they brought no remorse, no 
 pity, no compunction — and she smiled brightly, thinking 
 that her evil deed had prospered and would bear good 
 fruit. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 44 P6ilip,” said Lord Lisle to his nephew, a few days 
 after the ball, 44 have you ever thought of marrying?” 
 
 Mi. Lisle laughed. 
 
 44 As a remote possibility, uncle,” he replied. 44 If you 
 ask the question seriously, I answer seriously, I have 
 never thought earnestly of it.” 
 
 44 Yet you are old enough now,” said Lord Lisle, 44 and 
 you know many nice girls. How is it?” 
 
 44 1 have not 4 met my fate/ ” said Philip. 44 1 know 
 clever girls — beautiful girls; but I have not yet met the 
 girl I should like to marry.” 
 
 Lord Lisle felt something like a sharp pang of sorrow at 
 these very honest words. 
 
 44 You may be mistaken,” he said. 
 
 44 No,” interrupted Philip. 44 Like all other young 
 men, uncle, I have my ideal wife. I do not care so much 
 for beauty; but she must be fair, and sweet, and gracious, 
 true and modest, refined and sensitive — a kind of violet.” 
 44 There are many such,” said Lord Lisle; 
 
 44 1 believe it,” was the laughing reply; 44 but 1 have 
 not yet met that particular violet I am destined to win and 
 wear.” 
 
 44 How can you' know that?” asked the uncle. 
 
lord lisle's daughter. 93 - 
 
 44 Because/' he replied/ 4 * I am a great believer in first 
 love. Some day I shall meet a young girl, and I shall say 
 to myself the first time I see her, 6 1 must win her for my 
 own.' I am no believer in love founded upon intimate 
 acquaintance and constant association." 
 
 Lord Lisle sighed deeply; but he said no more. There 
 was no hope, then, for his darling child. Ah, if Philip 
 could but know, could but understand the treasure he had 
 won! 
 
 A few days afterward, one of Philip’s old college friends. 
 Lord Carlow, came over to Naples. He was going on a 
 yachting expedition, and pressed Philip to join him. They 
 should return, he said, in a month or six weeks. 
 
 Philip looked anxiously at Lord Lisle when the invita- 
 tion was given. 
 
 44 It will be a sad interruption to all our gayeties," he 
 said. “Madame la Comtessa will lose her right hand. 
 Still, if Philip would like it, by all means let him go." 
 
 And Philip went. Rita lost no hope. He would return, 
 she thought, tired of the sea, tired of being always with 
 gentlemen, and then she might charm him more easily. 
 
 It seemed a strange coincidence that on the very day he 
 left a letter came from Daisy, saying that, in accordance 
 with Lord Lisle’s wish, she would be with them on Tues- 
 day. 
 
 Lord Lisle was unfeignedly pleased. 
 
 44 She will find you much changed, Rita," he said. 
 
 44 What will she think of you? Poor little Daisy! we 
 must all be very kind to her; she is quite alone in the 
 world." 
 
 44 When is she coming?" asked Rita, in a low voice. 
 
 He thought she was agitated at the thought of seeing 
 her sister. 
 
 44 On Tuesday," he replied; 44 and, Rita darling, I shall 
 leave the arrangements of her room with you. Remem- 
 ber, that even as her mother took you, a poor, friendless 
 
94 
 
 LORD LISLE S DAUGHTER. 
 
 child, to her heart, and shared all she had with you, so we 
 must make her one of ourselves. She is to be treated in 
 every way as your sister. 1 shall have two daughters in- 
 stead of one. You know her, see that every taste and wish 
 is consulted. You will be very happy, my darling, now. ” 
 
 “Yes, very happy,” she murmured; “ and 1 will see to 
 everything for Daisy.” 
 
 Yet if for one moment she could have had her will she 
 would have smitten the gentle girl dead. In her dream, 
 in her all-absorbing love, she had forgotten her, forgotten 
 the danger that might come with her, forgotten almost the 
 evil deed and treachery that had given her Daisy’s place. 
 It came home to her like a mortal blow; yet she was pow- 
 erless to avert it. In vain she watched the long night 
 through, trying to think of some plan or expedient which 
 should keep Daisy away. But none of them did she dare 
 to put into practice, lest they should excite suspicion. She 
 remembered the puzzled look on Lord Lisle’s face when 
 she had dissented before. She dare not offer any more 
 objections; suspicion and mistrust would surely follow 
 them. 
 
 “ I must meet it boldly,” she said to herself. “ I have 
 played for a grand stake; it is worth some risk, some 
 bravery. If I meet the danger boldly, I shall conquer in 
 the end.” 4 8 ' 
 
 She busied herself in superintending the preparations 
 for Daisy. She placed flowers and books in her room. 
 She told Lord Lisle how fond her sister was of music; how 
 sweetly she sung. A magnificent piano was purchased for 
 her. Had she been the daughter and heiress coming 
 home, there could not have been more preparation. 
 
 Rita spoke of her continually. She told the countess 
 her foster-sister was coming to live with her. 
 
 Madame’s first question was: 
 
 “ Is she pretty?” 
 
 When Rita answered that she was very fair and sweet. 
 
LORD lisle's daughter. 95 
 
 with golden hair, the color of Beatrice Cenci's, tnadame 
 answered: 
 
 4 4 Ah, a blonde! Then I shall dislike her. The only 
 blonde in the world I admire or like is myself." 
 
 Which very characteristic speech being repeated to Lord 
 Lisle by Bita caused him great amusement. 
 
 It was late on Tuesday afternoon when Daisy reached 
 the villa. Lord Lisle, with the delicate tact that distin- 
 guished him, thought it would be better for the two young 
 girls to meet alone. 
 
 Bita nerved herself for the effort. Brave and coura- 
 geous as she was, when the carriage drove up to the door her 
 heart beat so that she could hardly see or hear. Some few 
 minutes afterward Daisy entered the room, and Bita's eyes 
 were drawn to her with a look that was half dread, half 
 fear. 
 
 Daisy — a tall, elegant girl, with a sweet, pure face and 
 tender eyes; Daisy, grown and altered, yet with the same 
 smile, the same spiritual expression, the same clear, mu- 
 sical voice, and the face so fatally like the pictured face of 
 Dame Sybella Lisle. 
 
 There was no suspicion in Daisy's heart. She clasped 
 her arms round Bita's neck, her eyes wet with happy 
 tears. 
 
 44 Bita, my darling," she cried, 44 1 am so glad and 
 happy to come to you. How kind and good Lord Lisle is! 
 1 shall never be able to thank him. 1 can not possibly 
 believe that I am to live in this beautiful home, and call it 
 mine." 
 
 44 It is to be so," said Bita. 44 We are to be sisters 
 here, Daisy, just as we were at Queen's Lynne. We are 
 both to be Lord Lisle's daughters." 
 
 Daisy clasped her little white hands in a transport of 
 gratitude. 
 
 44 It is like a fairy-tale," she cried. 44 Ah, Bita, what 
 would my mother say if she knew all this?"' 
 
96 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The beautiful face into which she gazed grew suddenly 
 pale. 
 
 “ Daisy ,” said Rita, “you startle me with your rapt- 
 ures, and iny head aches to-day.” 
 
 “ You have altered, Rita,” said the young girl. “ You 
 are beautiful as a picture, sister dear! Ah, it gladdens my 
 heart to see you here! Jewels and rich dresses suit you 
 well; you are like a rare gem in a wonderful setting! Is 
 not Lord Lisle very proud of you?” 
 
 They talked long. Daisy had much to tell — of the 
 kindness she had met with from her friends; how deeply 
 they deplored her leaving them; of her unbounded happi- 
 ness at the thought of living with Rita in this beautiful 
 home. 
 
 Rita said less. She spoke of the year they had spent in 
 Paris; of her lessons; of her masters; of Mrs. Marche; of 
 Lord Lisle; but she never even named Philip, or spoke of 
 herself. 
 
 “You must be very happy,” said Daisy, at length; 
 “ but the happiest thing of all is to have found some one 
 to love you. I would give all this a hundred times over 
 to have my dear mother back again. ” 
 
 Once more the beautiful face grew strangely pale. 
 
 “ Daisy,” said Rita, “ you will make me quite nervous 
 if you talk continually about dead people.” 
 
 “I will not do that,” said Daisy, gently; “but my 
 mother is never long out of my thoughts. You have 
 many friends; I had but her.” 
 
 “ I will take you to your rooms,” said Rita; “ you must 
 like them, Daisy. You have a suite like mine, and I fur- 
 nished them as I thought you would like best. We will go 
 now, and when you have changed your traveling-dress I 
 will take you to Mrs. Marche. ” 
 
 The two young girls went together through the long 
 galleries leading to the suite of rooms Lord Lisle haa 
 chosen for Daisy. 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 97 
 
 They were beautiful apartments, furnished with taste 
 and elegance. The boudoir contained a few rare pictures 
 and statues, and a magnificent piano; splendidly bound 
 books lay in profusion about the table. 
 
 44 1 remembered your tastes, Daisy," said Rita — 44 books 
 and music. This piano is a gift from Lord Lisle." 
 
 Daisy touched the keys lightly. 
 
 44 What happy hours are in store for me!" she said. 
 
 When they stood in the pretty chamber a cry of de- 
 lighted surprise came from her lips. It was so white, so 
 light, so elegant — the toilet-table, with its costly orna- 
 ments, the long mirrors, the white lace draperies. 
 
 44 Rita," said Daisy, 44 1 am afraid I shall wake up and 
 find this all a dream. Who would have thought, four 
 years ago, that we should exchange the little cottage at 
 Queen's Lynne for a home like this?" 
 
 Then Rita closed the door quietly, and stood before her 
 sister. 
 
 44 Daisy," she said, gently, 44 pardon me if I venture to 
 say something to you. Try to forget Queen's Lynne. Do 
 not get into the habit of speaking about it. Lord Lisle 
 has suffered so much during the past that any allusion to 
 it pains him. Take my advice, dear sister; even when he 
 wishes to talk of it do not let him — turn the subject 
 adroitly. It does him infinite harm. Will you try and 
 remember?" 
 
 44 Yes," said' Daisy; 44 1 will not forget it. But just 
 own to me, Rita, now that we are alone, is it not strange 
 that our lives should have changed so entirely?" 
 
 44 It is very strange," she replied; 44 and now, Daisy, 1 
 will leave you to dress. 1 will send my maid; to-morrow 
 you will have one of your own." 
 
 Under any other circumstances Rita would have been 
 very proud of her dainty, delicate sister. She looked like 
 a sweet, fragile flower. She had chosen a dress of rich 
 white crepe; the golden hair rippled over her neck and 
 
98 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 shoulders in sunny waves. She had no jewels. One whit® 
 rose lay in the bright hair, and another was placed in the 
 bodice of her dress. 
 
 Mrs. Marche looked up in surprise as the beautiful vis- 
 ion came into the room. 
 
 She welcomed Daisy warmly; but there was a puzzled 
 look upon her face as she did so. Hours afterward, while 
 Daisy sung in the evening gloaming, Mrs. Marche went up 
 to Rita. 
 
 46 My dear Rita,” she said, 44 there is nothing I dislike 
 more than curiosity. Pray pardon me if I ask was not 
 your foster-mother — this young lady's mother — a very su- 
 perior woman?” 
 
 44 Yes,” said Rita. 44 Why do you ask?” 
 
 44 Because I never saw any one so innately refined as 
 your sister. She has every mark of good breeding, and, 
 what is more, of good taste. Look at those little white 
 hands; they are like rose leaves! Look at the delicate little 
 ears, the beautifully arched neck. If I had not known, I 
 should have believed her to be 4 descended from a hundred 
 earls!' ” 
 
 With a sore, envious heart Rita owned the truth of all 
 that Mrs. Marche said. In mere point of beauty and 
 coloring she was superior to Daisy; but she had not the 
 spiritual face, the refined, patrician manner, the inde- 
 scribable something that has no name, yet distinguishes a 
 true lady, and is seen in one glance. 
 
 It was almost dinner-time when the young girl received 
 a message to say that Lord Lisle awaited them in the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 44 Now,” thought Rita, 44 now comes the real danger. 
 If I escape during the next hour, I have nothing to fear.” 
 
 There was no trace of emotion on her face as she took 
 Daisy's hand, saying, 44 1 will take you. Remember, w© 
 are both to be Lord Lisle's children!” 
 
 She entered the room, holding her sister's hand. 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER, 
 
 99 
 
 “ Papa/' she said, gazing at him the while, ‘ 6 here is 
 my sister— your other child, as you call her." 
 
 There came no sign of recognition into his face — only a 
 kindly smile of welcome. The tender eyes were raised to 
 his. Lord Lisle never understood how it was, hut in one 
 moment the golden head lay upon his breast, and the 
 sweet, fair face was wet with tears. 
 
 “ My other child!" he said, gently. “ My dear Daisy, 
 welcome home!" 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Lord Lisle could not understand how or why this 
 young girl made her way so quickly into his heart. She 
 had not the regal beauty of his child. She seemed all 
 soul. Her fair, spiritual face charmed him inexpressibly. 
 Her voice had a strange power over him; it struck him 
 like the sound of long-forgotten music. There was some- 
 thing about her that seemed strangely familiar. 
 
 “ It must be from Rita's description that I know you so 
 well, Daisy," he said one day. “ I feel as though we were 
 renewing an old acquaintance instead of forming a new 
 one." 
 
 She won upon him strangely. It was perfect rest to be 
 with her; little failings, little fits of impatience or irrita- 
 bility seemed to die out, ashamed in her presence. She 
 had a calm, brave soul. The breath of worldliness had 
 never ruffled it; passion or pride had never marred its 
 purity. 
 
 Lord Lisle liked to be with her; he liked to watch the 
 fair features bent over books and pictures. He enjoyed 
 talking to her; her noble thoughts and eloquent words 
 filled him with wonder and delight. 
 
 Rita saw all this, but it did not pain her. There was no 
 dangar in it. Lord Lisle was perfectly welcome to love 
 
100 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Daisy, provided no suspicion of the truth ever entered M* 
 mind; and it never did. 
 
 In every respect the two girls were on a perfect equality. 
 Privately, Rita managed to exercise a little authority over 
 her sister; and Daisy yielded with sweet, smiling grace. 
 She was too happy for any small troubles to annoy hen 
 She had never thought that life could be so pleasant or so 
 bright. She loved Lord Lisle perhaps more than she had 
 ever loved any one else. No mean thought of jealousy or 
 envy ever came to her. All the luxury and grandeur that 
 surrounded her belonged to Rita and Rita's father; she 
 was grateful for her own share in it, and envied no other. 
 
 She thought often of the great contrast between her past 
 life and the present. She never forgot the kindly, homely 
 mother who had striven to do her best. At first she avoid- 
 ed all mention of Queen's Lynne and the faithful, honest 
 woman she believed to have been her mother. 
 
 But as time wore on, and Lord Lisle began to find his 
 greatest pleasure in sitting with Daisy, he himself was the 
 first to mention the familiar names. 
 
 “ You talk to me of Italy," he said, one day to Daisy, 
 “ but never of England. Tell me something of Queen's 
 Lynne and your mother. Why do you avoid all mention 
 of them?" 
 
 “ I thought it pained you," she replied, gently. 
 
 “ Why should it?" said Lord Lisle, with some wonder. 
 “1 hope some day to see the place where my daughter 
 spent so many peaceful years. I hope to see the grave of 
 the generous woman who was a second mother to her. " 
 
 “Rita must have been oversensitive," thought Daisy; 
 and the subject passed from her mind. 
 
 Daisy cared little for the pretty, coquettish countess; 
 Rita spent whole days together with her. She had no 
 longer the least fear; she laughed at the foolish doubts 
 that had disturbed her before Daisy came. Her secret was 
 safe; none knew it but the dead, and they tell no tales. . 
 
101 
 
 ” BAUGHT EH. 
 
 Daisy and Lord Lisle were thrown much together. 
 Philosophers may say what they will, but there is a strong 
 and mysterious attraction between father and child. Nat- 
 ure speaks in a voice that can not be mistaken. Even to 
 himself Lord Lisle never owned it, never even knew it, 
 but it was certain, of the two girls he loved Daisy the 
 better. 
 
 There were tones in her voice that thrilled the very 
 depths of his heart. She had some little actions and gest- 
 ures so like those of his dead wife that they gave him a 
 strange pang; but he never connected the two, never real- 
 ized the resemblance in voice or gesture. Strange to say, 
 he never even observed the likeness between Daisy and the 
 beautiful picture of Lady Sybella Lisle. 
 
 One morning, as they sat at breakfast, Lord Lisle said: 
 “ Eita, 1 have made an engagement for you this morning, 
 and Daisy will accompany us.” 
 
 “Is it anything nice, papa?” asked Eita. “1 half 
 promised Countess Guardi I would drive out with her.” 
 
 “ She will release you this once,” said Lord Lisle; and 
 Eita never thought of opposing his will, although an en- 
 gagement with her father and sister had no great charm 
 for her. 
 
 “ Shall we drive or walk?” she inquired again. 
 
 “ We will walk,” said Lord Lisle. “I am going to 
 Signor Cardins studio; he has been painting a picture for 
 me, and I should like you to see it. 1 thought of asking 
 him to paint another — Daisy and yourself together.” 
 
 “ We might quarrel,” said Eita, with a smile, “ if we 
 were always in one frame.” 
 
 Signor Cardi was delighted to see the two beautiful En- 
 glish girls of whom every one was talking. There were no 
 other visitors at the studio, and Eita resigned herself to 
 what she considered a dull morning. 
 
 “ I hope you will be pleased with the picture,” said Sign- 
 
102 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 or Cardi to Lord Lisle. “ Of course a copy does not 
 allow of much inspiration; but I have done my best.” 
 
 Daisy wondered at the emotion in Lord Lisle’s face a3 
 the artist took the covering from a large picture and held 
 it up before them. 
 
 Lord Lisle uttered no word. He gazed for some min- 
 utes in deep silence. His dead wife’s sweet countenance 
 shone out from the canvas living and breathing. The 
 artist had succeeded well; the eyes were full of tender, 
 vivid intelligence, the lips half parted with a smile. 
 
 “ It is her very self,” he said at length. Turning to 
 Eita, he continued: “ Margaret, come here, dear child; 
 look well on this face; it shines now among the angels. 
 This is your mother — my beloved wife.” 
 
 She came forward and looked with curious eyes at the 
 picture. For once her self-possession abandoned her; she 
 knew not what to say — false words seemed out of place 
 just then. 
 
 “ I suppose you have no remembrance of her,” said 
 Lord Lisle, wistfully. 
 
 “ No,” said the clear, cold voice — “ none whatever. I 
 was too young when she left me to remember her face. ” 
 
 Lord Lisle turned to say something to Daisy, and was 
 startled at her appearance. She was gazing at the picture, 
 her hands tightly clasped. Her face had grown white, 
 even to the lips, and an expression of hope, fear, and be- 
 wilderment was in her wondering eyes. 
 
 “ What is it, Daisy?” asked Lord Lisle, feelingly. 
 
 “ I do not know,” she replied, confusedly; “ but it 
 seems to me I have seen that face some time; and surely 
 those eyes have smiled at me!” 
 
 “ You have seen one whose features resemble these?” 
 said Lord Lisle, gently. 
 
 “ No, that is not it,” said Daisy, persistently, yet with 
 the same appearance of struggling to regain some lost 
 memory. “ Ah, now I recollect! Years ago I used to 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 103 
 
 dream of a lady with just such eyes and lips who came to 
 me in my sleep. ” 
 
 Rita listened in silent terror. She tried to speak, but 
 the words died away in a harsh murmur. 
 
 “ The young lady is imaginative,” said the artist. 
 
 “No,” said Daisy, in a tone of quiet conviction. 
 “ Years ago I often saw that face. Do not laugh at me. 
 Lord Lisle, but it seems to me now those eyes are looking 
 at me, and the lips going to speak.” 
 
 Lord Lisle was startled. 
 
 “You are nervous,” he said, gently. “ The warm sun 
 has tired you. Come away from the picture. You will 
 laugh at these ideas to-morrow. ” 
 
 Did the dead ever speak? Her secret was known to 
 no one living. Could the dead reveal it? Would those 
 pictured lips denounce her, and make known their hidden 
 crime? These thoughts rushed like avenging furies 
 through Rita’s mind. 
 
 She was slightly reassured by Lord Lisle’s calm, unsus- 
 picious look. At length she said: “Why, Daisy, that is 
 an old fashion of yours, thinking about dreams. You 
 have startled me in that way before.” 
 
 The words were skillfully chosen. Lord Lisle’s face 
 cleared. 
 
 “You have a highly nervous temperament, Daisy,” he 
 said, gravely. “ You must not indulge in such fancies.” 
 
 The danger was over, and Rita breathed again. But 
 Daisy could not so easily forget the impression made upon 
 her mind. The picture came home, and was hung in the 
 grand salon. She spent many hours before it, wondering 
 why that face had seemed to haunt her — wondering what 
 was the secret trembling on the lips and shading the clear 
 eyes. 
 
 Philip wrote at length to announce his coming. Rita 
 heard the tidings, and prepared herself for the final strug- 
 gle. She resolved to win him, come what might. 
 
 Y 
 
104 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 There was nothing Lord Lisle enjoyed so much as hear- 
 ing Daisy sing in the beautiful Italian gloaming. When 
 the world was all fair and tranquil, the water rippling in 
 the bay, and the flowers sleeping in the sun, she would 
 sing to him for hours together. He never forgot those 
 tranquil, pleasant hours. Through the long vine -clad 
 windows the soft summer breeze came in mild and warm. 
 The birds sung, and the flowers bloomed. The pure rich 
 voice found its way to the very depth of his heart. She 
 sung simple love songs — where truth and honor always 
 prevailed over everything else — and old-fashioned English 
 ballads. Daisy’s singing was like herself, as free from 
 affectation and as simply pure. 
 
 One evening Eita had gone with the Countess Guardi to 
 a ball at the Dalgarin Palace. Lord Lisle had declined 
 the invitation, Daisy did not care for it, and Mrs. Marche 
 remained with them. 
 
 “ You must give me a treat, Daisy, this evening,” said 
 Lord Lisle. “ Sing some of my favorite songs.” 
 
 When dinner was over, and Eita, magnificently dressed, 
 had driven away, she sat down to the piano. She knew 
 exactly what Lord Lisle liked. They were in the grand 
 saloon where the pictures hung. As Lord Lisle > listened to 
 the sweet, tender music, and looked upon his wife’s face, 
 it seemed to him that words and song both came from her. 
 
 He was so deeply lost in thought, Daisy so wrapped up 
 in her own music, that neither of them heard the door 
 open nor saw Philip Lisle enter the room. 
 
 He stood silently looking on the pretty scene so suggest- 
 ive of home comfort and happiness. His eyes lingered on 
 the sweet face of the young girl, so spiritual, so tender and 
 fair; the evening sunbeams seemed to kiss her golden hair. 
 The clear rich voice filled the room with music sweeter 
 than any he had ever heard. 
 
 “ I must have tired you. Lord Lisle,” he said at last, 
 rising, and crossing the room. 
 
r tORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER, 
 
 105 
 
 “No," he said; “I should never tire of that music, 
 Daisy. I have a strange feeling upon me to-night; some- 
 thing tells me I shall soon see that dear face again. " 
 
 44 Who is nervous now?” asked the young girl with a 
 smile. 
 
 44 Not I,” he replied. 4 4 While you were singing the 
 4 Land o' the Leal/ a solemn kind of rest came over me. 
 I shall see her soon, Daisy; my heart tells me so. My life 
 has not been a very happy one. I shall understand its 
 sorrows better when I have seen her again." 
 
 Before Daisy had time to reply, some one came up to 
 Lord Lisle's chair — a strong, kindly hand grasped his. 
 
 44 Why, uncle," said a cheery, genial voice, 44 1 never 
 heard you speak so mournfully before. 1 came in five 
 minutes ago; but the music bound me with a magical 
 spell." 
 
 Lord Lisle started up and greeted his nephew warmly. 
 
 44 1 am glad you have returned, Philip," he said. 
 44 Now let me introduce you to my other daughter, Daisy 
 — Rita's foster-sister." 
 
 He bowed respectfully, and she drooped her shy eyes as 
 he looked admiringly at her. 
 
 Almost before she had raised them again, Philip Lisle 
 had said to himself this was the girl he would win for his 
 wife, if it were possible to do so. That was his ideal — the 
 face, the figure, the voice he had imagined and hoped some 
 time to meet. 
 
 44 Rita is away," said Lord Lisle. 44 She has gone with 
 your old friend, Countess Guardi, to a ball. Would you 
 like to join them, Philip, or remain with us?" 
 
 44 Can you seriously ask such a question?" said Philip. 
 44 1 ask nothing better in life than to stay here. I have 
 many adventures to tell you, uncle. 1 have been among 
 4 strange islands in glittering seas/ do not send me into 
 exile on the very night cf my return." 
 
 Lord Lisle sighed. He wished Philip had shown more 
 
 
100 
 
 LOST) LISLE’S DAITGHTEk. 
 
 anxiety to be with Rita — Rita, who had wept so passion* 
 ately over the love she bore him. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The sight that greeted Rita on her return from the ball 
 was not a pleasant one. Philip sat between Daisy and 
 Lord Lisle; they all three looked very happy, and were 
 laughing heartily at some of Lord Carew’s adventures. 
 
 She weighed every word of Philip’s greeting to herself; 
 it was kind, even affectionate, but there was not that 
 which she longed to hear. 
 
 “I do not find Lord Lisle looking very well,” said 
 Philip to his cousin on the day following his arrival. 
 “ He seems weak and ill. Have you noticed any change 
 in him?” 
 
 “ No,” she replied; “ perhaps the climate does not suit 
 him.” 
 
 Philip shook his head gravely. 
 
 “1 fear it is something more serious than that,” he 
 said. “ I can not forget some words 1 overheard him say 
 to your foster-sister last evening. I do not like the worn 
 expression of his face. The troubles of his early life made 
 him old before his time.” 
 
 “ He is happy now,” she said. 
 
 “ Yes, he is happy,” said Philip. “ The one aim of his 
 life is accomplished; he has found the child whose loss 
 nearly killed him. Perhaps this may be the reaction after 
 too great a mental strain.” 
 
 But Lord Lisle" did not recover either health or strength, 
 and Rita was the first to propose their return home. 
 
 The suggestion was soon acted upon, and by easy stages 
 they were all once more happily gathered within the cheer- 
 ful rooms of Lisle Court. 
 
 The ailing master was pleased to be once more at home 
 —pleased to see his mother’s gentle face; but it was en- 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 10? 
 
 dent to all who knew and loved him that Lord Lisle had 
 not long to live. The knowledge of this brought a keen, 
 sharp pang to Daisy’s heart; to Eita it gave a sense of 
 relief that she could hardly define. 
 
 For many long weeks after their return they watched 
 him fade slowly and surely. There came to him no vio- 
 lence of pain; life and strength ebbed gently away. The 
 most learned physicians in England stood by his bedside 
 and did battle with grim King Death. But he was not to 
 be baffled; he had marked his prey. During those long, 
 sad autumn weeks two events happened. Philip Lisle fell 
 deeply in love with Daisy; and Eita found that without 
 him life and all it held was empty and dreary. 
 
 Has nature no voice — no keen, unerring instinct? 
 What was it drew Daisy, hour after hour, to that sick-bed? 
 Lord Lisle took all his medicine and all his food from her, 
 Eita looking on with calm indifference. She was his ac- 
 knowledged daughter and heiress. All matters of love 
 and sentiment were of no consideration. 
 
 Daisy stole gently into his room, and watched while he 
 slept. Daisy sought the rarest fruit, prepared the richest 
 cordials. As his strength declined, and the long night 
 hours brought but little rest, she sung, in that low, clear 
 voice, the songs he loved, and hushed him to rest. 
 
 When death came very near it was Daisy who knelt by 
 his side and said the prayers her mother taught her; it wa» 
 she who read sweet, solemn words, full of rest, peace, 
 and hope. 
 
 And then, in her heart. Lord Lisle’s mother would wish 
 this fair, gentle girl were her son’s child, instead of the 
 proud, haughty beauty who looked on so calmly while ho 
 suffered. 
 
 Death was drawing nearer. One night Daisy, watching 
 by Lord Lisle’s side, read to him until his eyes closed and ' 
 he fell asleep. She dreaded awakening him. The gray 
 autumn evening closed in; the fire-light danced fitfully in 
 
108 tont > lisle’s laughthb. 
 
 strange shadows on the walls; the lamp stood upon a table 
 near, but she would not move lest the sound should wake 
 the sick man. 
 
 He slept calmly for some short time, then a moaning 
 cry came from his lips. She bent over, whispering some 
 gentle words, laying her hands upon the damp brow. She 
 was startled to find his eyes wide open and fixed upon her 
 face. 
 
 “ Margaret/’ he said, “ are you come to me at last? 
 My darling wife, I have pined and died for you!” 
 
 “You are dreaming,” said Daisy, gently. “Do you 
 not know me? I am Daisy Rivers.” 
 
 A gleam of recognition at once came into his eyes. 
 
 “ Who was it whispered to me?” he asked. “It was 
 not you; it was Margaret — my wife. I knew her voice. 
 It was just the same tone in which she bade me farewell. 
 Ah, Daisy, you did not see her, but she has be§n near me.” 
 
 Nor could she convince him to the contrary. Believing 
 it to be the delusion of a dying man, she did not contra- 
 dict him. 
 
 “ She has been near me,” he said, “ and I heard her 
 voice. Before the surf sets to-morrow I shall have joined 
 her. Daisy, call my mother, and tell Philip I want to see 
 him now, at once!” 
 
 Daisy was alarmed at the gray pallor that fell over his 
 face. 
 
 In a few minutes Mrs. Wyverne was by his side, and 
 Philip soon joined her. 
 
 “ Mother,” he said, “ my wife has been to summon me. 
 Do not leave me again. I want to see Philip quite alone. 
 Come back after that, and bring Rita with you. ” 
 
 They were left together — the prematurely old man, 
 whose life was rapidly closing, and his young heir, whose 
 future lay all before him. 
 
 Philip knelt by his uncle’s side. The bright, dying eyes 
 were fixed intently upon his^ face. 
 
LORD lisle's daughter. [ 109 
 
 “Philip/* said Lord Lisle, “you are my heir, and I 
 iave loved you dearly, as though you had been my own 
 son. You care much for me, I believe. Living, 1 have 
 been kind and indulgent to you; dying, I ask from you a 
 favor. Grant it, and my blessing will follow you through 
 life. Eefuse it, and I shall die unhappy." 
 
 “ My dear uncle," cried Philip, “ 1 would do anything 
 for you." 
 
 “ Remember your words," he continued, with a faint 
 smile. “ I shall put them to the proof. I ask you to do 
 what some men would be proud, beyond all words, to do. 
 Philip, when 1 am dead and buried — when the time for 
 mourning is past and gone, will you promise me to marry 
 my darling Rita?" 
 
 In the hushed silence of that room the words fell clear 
 and distinct; they smote Philip Lisle like the blow of a 
 sharp sword. How could he marry Rita when he loved 
 Daisy with all his heart? 
 
 “ She is very beautiful," continued Lord Lisle, wist- 
 fully, “ and very clever. She will be my heiress. What 
 more can you want, Philip?" 
 
 What more? The words sounded like bitter sarcasm. 
 Trying to recover himself, Philip said : 
 
 “But, my dear uncle, it is quite possible, you know, 
 that Rita may not be willing. She may care for some one 
 else." 
 
 “ Ah, no!" said Lord Lisle. “ Bend lower, Philip; let 
 me whisper something to you. People see things more 
 clearly when they come to die. Philip, my daughter loves 
 you. I know it. One day 1 found it out. She wept bit- 
 terly when you seemed indifferent to her. In her passion 
 of grief, she cried out that she loved you better than her 
 life." 
 
 “ Is it possible?" cried Philip Lisle, in astonishment. 
 
 “It is true," replied Lord Lisle. “ I tell you her 
 secret. You are a Lisle and a gentleman; it is safe with 
 
110 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER* 
 
 you, I know how those of my race love, how fatally and 
 how well. Lying here on my death-bed, my daughter’s 
 secret troubles me. She has not been very happy, poor 
 child! Oh, Philip, make it up to her! Promise to love 
 and care for her. Promise to make her your dear, honored 
 wife!” 
 
 But Philip had no words. With those pleading, dying 
 eyes fixed so wistfully upon him, he could sooner have 
 plunged a sword in his own heart than have said “ No.” 
 Still he did not love her, and never could. 
 
 “ For her dead mother’s sake!” pleaded the faint voice. 
 “ Let me be able to say, when I meet her, that our child 
 is happy.” 
 
 Still no answer came from Philip. There was a fierce 
 struggle in his heart, a mighty tumult that bereft him ol 
 all words. 
 
 Suddenly, upon his hands, he felt warm tears fall, and 
 the pale lips quivered like the lips of a grieving child. 
 
 “My only child, Philip!” said Lord Lisle; “my only 
 one!” 
 
 Old and sorrowful, weeping and dying, Philip could not 
 withstand it. Had Lord Lisle asked for his life then, he 
 would have given it more cheerfully by far than he gave 
 the promise that wrecked the happiness of his life. 
 
 “ Hush, my dear uncle,” he said; “ it shall be as you 
 wish. I promise to make Kita my wife.” 
 
 A look of relief and pleasure passed over the dying face. 
 
 “ God bless you, my dear boy!” he said. “ I shall die 
 happy now! 1 leave my darling in good hands. You will 
 be kind to Daisy,” he continued; “let her live here with 
 my mother until she marries.” 
 
 “ I will be kind to Daisy,” said Philip, hoarsely. He 
 had not the courage to refuse his uncle’s last wishes; he 
 could not turn a deaf ear to the faint, pleading voice, yet 
 the giving of that promise made him so wretched he would 
 
LORD .LISLE’S DAUGHTER. Ill 
 
 gladly have changed places with the man whose last hour 
 had come. 
 
 At Lord Lisle’s wish he summoned Rita and Mrs. 
 Wyverne. ^ 
 
 “ Rita,” said Lord Lisle, 44 let me speak to you while I 
 have strength. Philip will tell you all we have arranged. 
 You are to be his wife, my darling.” 
 
 Philip never forgot the startled joy and happiness that 
 came into her face; it was a new revelation to him. 
 
 44 Take her in your arms, Philip,” said Lord Lisle; 
 44 tell her you will fill my place.” 
 
 Philip bent over his cousin; her beautiful face, softened 
 and full of tenderness as he had never seen it before, was 
 raised to his; he touched her brow with his lips. 
 
 44 1 will take care of you, Rita,” he said, gently. 
 
 It was not a very enthusiastic wooing; there was no rapt- 
 ure on Philip’s face as he looked upon the girl he had 
 promised to make his wife. 
 
 Two hours afterward, when the great change came and 
 Mrs. Wyverne summoned Rita, she shrunk from the sight 
 of death. She went back to her room, and knelt with her 
 face buried in her hands. 
 
 Lord Lisle died with his head pillowed on Daisy’s arm; 
 his eyes, unto the last, lingered on her face. He was con- 
 fused in that hour, and thought she was Margaret, his lost 
 wife, come to fetch him. 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 A week of gloom and sorrow followed; the great house 
 was hushed and still; the sunshine was not allowed to visit 
 it; people spoke in low, hushed whispers; for he who had 
 been the loved and honored master lay dead there. 
 
 The day of the funeral came at last — a day of pouring 
 rain; the long, black procession wound its way through 
 the dripping trees; even nature seemed to weep as Lord 
 Lisle was laid down to rest. 
 
 After the funeral was over the will was read in the 
 
112 LORD LISLES DAUGHTER. 
 
 library. The three ladies were summoned; Mr. Kent, the 
 lawyer, and a few friends of the family, were there. It 
 was a just and equitable will, leaving, as a matter of 
 course, to Philip the entailed estate of Lisle Court and the 
 income derived from it. To his dearly loved child, Mar- 
 garet Lisle, was bequeathed the three estates of Helsmeir, 
 Endsleigh, and Thorne. To his mother the late lord left 
 a handsome income, and the same to Daisy. The annuity 
 paid to Mrs. Feme and Mrs. Markham was to be con- 
 tinued. All old servants and dependents were remem- 
 bered. 
 
 As she listened to the lawyer's montonous tones, Rita sat 
 like one in a dream. The end and aim of her life was ac- 
 complished. Her fraud had succeeded; there could be no 
 more danger — no more fear of discovery. 
 
 There was much to arrange. At Lord Lisle's urgent 
 request Mrs. Wyverne consented to remain for some time, 
 at least, at Lisle Court. Rita and Daisy were to remain 
 with her. Philip himself had business in Scotland, and, 
 when all plans were settled to everybody's satisfaction, he 
 Went there. 
 
 After the year of mourning had passed it was Mrs. 
 Wyverne's intention to take the two young girls to London 
 for the season. It was high time that Rita made her 
 debut ; she was to be presented at the birthday Drawing- 
 room, and the elder lady predicted for her beautiful grand- 
 child a series of brilliant triumphs. 
 
 When the time came, Daisy, much to Mrs. Wyverne's 
 surprise, steadily refused to make any grand debut in the 
 gay world. 
 
 “ I will go to London with you, dear madame," she 
 said. 66 The truth is, I could not bear to be parted from 
 you; but I think it would be absurd for me to attempt to 
 share the honors and privileges that are Rita's by right of 
 birth. It is only through Lord Lisle's bounty that 1 am 
 
EORD lisle’s daughter, 118 
 
 even what I am. I have no claim to more. I do not for- 
 get that 1 am of lowly birth and station.” 
 
 Rita, who heard her sister’s reasons, said no word. In 
 her heart she was pleased to be saved from the continual 
 presence of one whom she felt would be a formidable rival. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The London season opened brilliantly. Lord Lisle went 
 to the family mansion in Grosvenor Square. Mrs. Wy- 
 verne took a beautiful house in Hyde Park, and went there 
 with Daisy and Rita. Mrs. Marche had left them. The 
 three ladies were very happy together. Daisy was the 
 sunbeam; her sweet, unselfish disposition, her gentle pa- 
 tience and interest in others never seemed to fail. She 
 listened to Rita’s egotistical conversation, and never 
 wearied. She was Mrs. Wyverne’s confidante; and Philip, 
 Lord Lisle, despite his promise, thought the day dark that 
 passed without one glimpse of her. 
 
 Yet Daisy had her trials. Before Lord Lisle’s illness 
 and death, she had, in some vague, dreamy way, begun to 
 think that Philip cared very much for her. He never 
 seemed to forget her; he had talked to her more than to 
 any one else; his face wore a different look when she was 
 near him; and once — she had never forgotten the day — 
 after singing to to him for some time, he caught her hand 
 and kissed it. 
 
 44 Daisy,” he said, “ 1 hope your voice will be the last 
 sound I shall hear on earth.” 
 
 She was not vain, but many little things had happened 
 Which made her think that Philip loved her. He had not 
 eaid so in words, but his eyes had told some passionate 
 love tales. Modest and gentle, she had treasured these 
 things in her own heart. Daisy was not one to love un- 
 sought; there was a quiet dignity hidden under her affec- 
 tionate manner and graceful, winning way. 'She was capa- 
 
fli LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ble of loving deeply as her sister, but in a different way. 
 Eita would have schemed, planned, and maneuvered to 
 win the one she loved. Daisy would have buried her 
 secret and remained true to it all her life. 
 
 Vague, happy thoughts of what might be came to her— 
 sweet, girlish dreams, in which Philip took the greatest 
 share. They were never of rank or position — never of 
 grandeur or riches — but of him. 
 
 On the night of the late lord's death she stood by when 
 the engagement was announced, and heard the words — 
 “ Eita is to be Philip's wife." In her pure humility, she 
 felt no surprise. After all, it was right and natural that 
 Philip should prefer his beautiful cousin to one so lowly as 
 herself. So the pretty dream was dispelled — the bright, 
 vague hopes that had thrilled her heart were buried. If 
 she suffered, no one knew it. She listened to Eita's plans 
 for the time when she should’ be Lady Philip Lisle, and 
 wondered at what she thought her own vain folly. 
 
 The sun shone brightly one May morning. London was 
 unusually gay. The tall trees invthe parks were green 
 and full of leaves; the birds sung in the branches; crowds 
 of gayly dressed people filled the wide streets. There was 
 a subdued murmur in the air; the roll of carriages, the 
 sharp ring of horses' feet, the pealing of church bells, and 
 the bands of music in the squares. 
 
 In a superbly furnished drawing-room Mrs. Wyverne sat 
 on that May morning with Miss Lisle. It was the day 
 after her presentation, and the two ladies were discussing 
 the triumph she had won. Every one agreed no such 
 debutante had been seen for years; the beautiful southern 
 face, the dark, lustrous eyes and profusion of black hair 
 were rare among the daughters of England. Even royal 
 lips had spoken in praise of her magnificent loveliness. 
 
 The gay world followed its leaders; before that day came 
 to an end Miss Lisle was established the belle of the season* 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. * xty 
 
 Her triumph exceeded her fondest— nay, most sanguine 
 dreams. 
 
 On the following morning the breakfast-table was half 
 covered with cards — invitations for balls, soirees, and par- 
 ties. Daisy laughed, and a flush of grateful vanity crim- 
 soned Rita's face. 
 
 44 1 told you so, my dear," was Mrs. Wy verne's com- 
 ment. 44 1 wish your father had lived to see this day; he 
 would have been proud of it. " 
 
 Among other invitations was one from Lady Carlyon — 
 the queen par excellence of the fashionable world. She 
 was one of the prettiest and most popular women in Lon- 
 don, and at the same time so exclusive that to belong to 
 her set, to have the entree to her house, was a stamp and 
 seal of superiority. 
 
 Lady Carlyon always gave a ball directly after the Draw- 
 ing-room. It was a gleaning of beauty, fashion, and tal- 
 ent. She had procured an introduction to Mrs. Wy verne 
 and Miss Lisle, foreseeing, with her usual shrewdness, that 
 a new star had arisen on the great world. 
 
 Rita held the pretty card of invitation in her hand when 
 Lord Lisle entered the room. He smiled at the quantity 
 of notes. 
 
 44 Lady Carlyon!'^ ho said, in answer to some remark of 
 Mrs. Wy verne's. Wherever else you may go, or what- 
 ever you may forego, you must go there. She is the most 
 exclusive woman in London, and gives the best balls. One 
 meets' all the best people there. If you make an effective 
 appearance at Lady Carlyon's, Rita, your success in society 
 is certain. When is the ball?" 
 
 44 On Thursday night," she repKed. 
 
 44 You should go to Madame Durrand's at once," he re- 
 plied. 44 1 called to ask if you would go to the opera this 
 evening . 99 
 
 Daisy raised her head suddenly at this question, and 
 Philip caught a wistful glance of the violet eyes. 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 1IC? 
 
 “ You would like it,” he said, gently. 
 
 “ Better than anything in the world/ 5 she said. “I 
 know all the music of 4 Trovatore/ but 1 never heard it 
 sung. 55 
 
 “ We will go this evening/ 5 said Mrs. Wy verne, good- 
 naturedly; “ of course you will join us, Philip? 55 
 
 “I intended doing myself that pleasure/ 5 he replied, 
 with a smile. 
 
 “Why should he not have that one gleam of happi- 
 ness?’ 5 he asked himself. “The time must inevitably 
 come when Daisy would leave them; sooner or later, some 
 happy man would discover the full value of this fair pearl, 
 and win it for himself. Surely, from a life-time of sacri- 
 fice, he might snatch one hour’s brightness, and sit by 
 Daisy’s side, and look in her pure, fair face without 
 wrong?’ 5 
 
 Lord Lisle was proud of the ladies he escorted. Rita 
 wore a superb dress of sheeny, gleaming white and gold; 
 rich rubies flashed from the coils of dark hair and shone 
 upon her neck and arms. Daisy looked fresh and fair as a 
 spring morning; her dress of white lace had no ornament 
 save the pretty violets that looped it up. Purple violets 
 nestled in the ripples of golden hair. She carried a bou- 
 quet of the same sweet flowers in her hands. In personal 
 beauty she was inferior to Rita, but Rita lacked the grace- 
 ful patrician manner that characterized her sister. 
 
 Philip was charmed beyond all prudence. He sat by the 
 side of the woman he had promised to marry, looking at 
 the girl he had so fervently loved. 
 
 Mrs. Wyverne’s box was the great center of attraction 
 that evening. No one was so captivated by Rita as Cap- 
 tain Darcy. He was introduced to her by Lord Lisle as 
 one of .his friends, and at the first glance of her eyes fell a 
 victun to theh light — fell, without any hope or chance of 
 recovery, fathoms deep in love. 
 
 Philip looked on with quiet amusement. Ah, if it could 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 lit 
 
 only be so! If Eita were free, and he were free! If he 
 might woo that fair, gentle girl for his wife, life would re- 
 cover its lost charm! It was too late for such dreams! 
 The die was cast — his honor pledged ! Let his heart ache 
 ever so much, he must marry Margaret Lisle! 
 
 But for this one evening he yielded himself to the 
 charm. Captain Darcy rushed on to his fate, lingering by 
 Eita, while Philip talked to Daisy. 
 
 How faii^and pure she was! The delicate bloom in her 
 face, that deepened at his every word; the tender radiance 
 of those clear eyes; the perfume of the violets she carried 
 had some secret, subtle charm for him. For many long 
 months afterward that same perfume struck him with a 
 sense of pain. 
 
 It must end. Lord Lisle left Daisy with a deep sigh, 
 and a shadow on his bright face. Mrs. Wyverne heard the 
 sigh, and saw the look, but misunderstood both. 
 
 She pitied Philip, and thought him jealous of Captain 
 Darcy. Until the opera ended she sat making up her 
 mind that on this very evening she would speak to him, as 
 she had long intended to do. 
 
 “ Call to-morrow morning, Philip,” she said, as Lord 
 Lisle left them; “ 1 want to see you particularly.” 
 
 Going home that evening Philip made some excellent 
 resolutions. He loved Daisy; how could he help it? But 
 he would not break his promise. For the future he would 
 avoid her; her presence had a fascination for him that no 
 words could describe. From this evening he would avoid 
 her, and keep his honor intact. 
 
 Mrs. Wyverne received Lord Lisle in her own room, giv- 
 ing orders that she was at home to no one else. 
 
 “Philip,” she said, “be seated. I shall detain you 
 some time. What I have to say is important. Have you 
 decided when your marriage with Eita is to take place?” 
 
 The question came to him like a sharp blow; for one 
 half moment it unnerved him. 
 
118 
 
 lord lisle's daughter. 
 
 “ 1 have not thought about it yet/* he said;' “ there is 
 no immediate hurry, 1 suppose?** 
 
 “ No/* she replied; “but your engagement should be 
 made known. It will save many disappointments and 
 much mortification. That poor Captain Darcy fell quite 
 in love last night with Rita.** 
 
 “ She did not seem to reciprocate it/* he said, with a 
 smile. 
 
 “No/* replied Mrs. Wyyerne; “Rita sees, hears, and 
 cares for no one but yourself.** 
 
 Which information would have been pleasant enough 
 had Philip been of the same mind. 
 
 “ It should be made known at once; and I think, unless 
 you see any obstacle, that the marriage should take place 
 at the end of the season. Any longer delay would be use- 
 less.** 
 
 Ah! useless, indeed. No delay could avert his fate. 
 Let the blow fall quickly. 
 
 “ Whenever you wish, madame/* he said, wearily. 
 
 She looked up in wonder at his tone. 
 
 “ Your own wish must dictate to you/* she said, “ not 
 mine. I merely advise the autumn. Do you think that 
 time will suit?’* 
 
 “ 1 see no objection to it/* said Philip. 
 
 “ Then you had better speak to Rita about it. She is 
 not in now; but if you like to call this evening we shall be 
 all pleased to see you.** 
 
 “ 1 have an engagement this evening/* he replied. “ I 
 shall meet you all at Lady Carlyon*s to-morrow evening, 
 and I will mention it to her then.** 
 
 As Philip closed the door behind him, thankful the in- 
 terview was ended, Mrs. Wyverne sighed deeply. 
 
 “ 1 can not understand them/* she said — “these men 
 of the present day. What an unfortunate love affair my 
 poor son’s was, and here is Philip — he talks of love and 
 marriage far more coolly than he would of a new picture 1 
 
 ~ ~ 1 
 
LORD LISLES DAUGHTER. ll9 
 
 I can not understand it. Surely the ancient spirit of 
 chivalry must have died away?” 
 
 As Lord Lisle was leaving the house he met Daisy just 
 coming in from the garden. Her hands were full of pretty 
 flowers; she herself looked like their queen. 
 
 “ What is the matter. Lord Lisle?” she asked, looking 
 at his sad, tired face. 44 Have you heard bad news?” 
 
 “ No, Daisy,” he replied, taking the flowers from her 
 hands and clasping the little fingers in his own. 44 Help 
 me to be very brave. I have sorrow to bear; tell me how 
 
 to bear it.” ^ 
 
 44 Bravely!” she said, her face glowing with light— 
 44 bravely, as great men and great heroes do!” 
 
 44 1 am no hero,” he said, sadly. 
 
 44 Any man is a hero who bears a sorrow in silence and 
 well,” Daisy continued — 44 and there are many such in the 
 world. ” 
 
 44 1 will try to be one of them,” he said. 44 Daisy, say 
 4 God bless you/ ” 
 
 She repeated the words, and he left her wondering what 
 had saddened and wearied him on that bright May morn- 
 ing, when every one else looked happy and gay. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 44 1 shall not see your triumphs, Rita,” said Daisy; 
 44 but 1 shall hear of them. Lady Carlyou must be diffi- 
 cult to please if she is not charmed with you.” 
 
 Rita stood before the large mirror in her dressing-room, 
 and Daisy, with gentle hands, was adding some last finish- 
 ing touches to her toilet. She had never looked more 
 beautiful. Mrs. Wyverne, unable to keep the secret, had 
 whispered to her that Philip was going to ask her a mo- 
 mentous question that evening, and she had prepared for a 
 grand triumph. 
 
 The dress chosen was one that enhanced and increased 
 
m 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER* 
 
 her regal beauty. It was of the richest green velvet, 
 shaded with delicate white lace, and trimmed with golden 
 fringe. Mrs* Wyverne had wished her to wear nothing 
 but diamonds; they circled her graceful head like points 
 of flame; they were clasped round her firm white throat 
 and beautiful arms; they suited her well. 
 
 Daisy had selected her bouquet; it was of scarlet verbena 
 and white heath. 
 
 4 6 It requires just that dash of crimson to make the pict- 
 ure complete,” she said, laughingly. 
 
 44 You are always thinking of pictures, Daisy,” said 
 Mrs. Wyverne. 
 
 44 Because I love them,” she replied. 44 Now, Bita 
 darling, have you everything? It is growing late.” 
 
 She took from the table a beautiful fan. The handle 
 was wrought in pure gold. It was made of rare white 
 feathers light as down. 
 
 44 1 never saw any one manage a fan better than you, 
 Bita,” she said; “you must have a code for it. Hold 
 that open, my dear, and let me look at you. ” 
 
 Bita opened the fan, and the delicate feathers touched 
 her white neck. 
 
 44 That will do,” said Daisy; 44 1 am quite satisfied with 
 my picture.” 
 
 44 Would not you like to go with us?” asked Bita, com- 
 placently regarding herself in the glass. 
 
 44 Yes, for some reasons; no, for others,” replied the 
 young girl. 44 Now, Therese, the opera-cloak, please; 
 Miss Lisle will be late.” 
 
 The crimson cloak was thrown over the white, polished 
 shoulders, and Bita swept out of the room, followed by 
 Mrs. Wyverne. 
 
 It was a brilliant night. In the dark after-days Bita 
 . looked back to it as the crowning hour of her triumph. 
 
 Lady Carlyon's rooms were magnificently decorated; 
 
LORt) LISLE* S DAUGHTER* 121 
 
 lights shone like stars from costly flowers that rose in 
 tiers, each one more brilliant than the other. 
 
 Azaleas and crimson fuchsias, golden calceolarias, mag- 
 nificent pelargoniums, delicate heath, heliotropes, roses of 
 every kind and hue formed a gorgeous background. Here 
 and there, between the bright flowers, one caught sight of 
 a white marble statue. The whole suite of rooms was 
 illuminated. Leading into the large conservatory, pretty 
 scented fountains rippled there — a large one in the midst, 
 shaped like a huge lily, from which the water fell with a 
 musical rhythm and cadence that soothed and charmed 
 the ear. 
 
 Almost the first gentleman who accosted Eita was Cap- 
 tain Darcy. His happiness was complete when he had 
 secured her hand for the first waltz; 
 
 She was soon surrounded by her court of admirers. 
 Never had the beautiful face shone brighter; never had 
 the brilliant wit and quick powers of repartee been shown 
 to greater advantage. 
 
 Miss Lisle was undoubtedly the queen of that gay 
 throng. Lady Carlyon was charmed with her. Philip 
 could not help feeling proud of her; nor could he help 
 seeing the different way in which she treated him. To 
 others she was charming and gracious in her peculiar, 
 haughty manner; for him her whole nature seemed to 
 change — her face softened, her dark eyes drooped — he 
 could not help seeing how great was his power over that 
 proud, ambitious heart. 
 
 As he watched her, the center of all homage and admi- 
 ration, he' felt that she would fill well the place of Lady 
 Lisle. She would do him credit; she would be one of the 
 fairest branches on the family tree; she would receive the 
 homage of all the great world, and it wduld reflect fresh 
 glory on his name; but, for all that, he sighed when he 
 recalled a fair, sweet face framed in golden hair, and elo- 
 quent eyes full of truth and candor. 
 
LORD LISLE*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 122 
 
 It could never be — "that fair vision must fade from him; 
 he must linger no more by Daisy’s side; honor called him 
 elsewhere. Yet that night* when the girl he had promised 
 to marry shone like a peerless queen among her compeers* 
 he would have given title* wealth, rank — everything save 
 honor — for his freedom. 
 
 Those who saw Lord Lisle that evening wondered at the 
 strange* gloomy expression of his face. He had a task be- 
 fore him; the sooner it was accomplished the better; he was 
 to ask Margaret Lisle when she would become his wife. 
 
 There was some slight sensation just after supper. A 
 royal duke* a great admirer of Lady Carlyon* “ looked in.” 
 His grace happened to be in a particularly happy and 
 genial state of mind. He congratulated Lady Carlyon 
 upon the magnificent appearance of her rooms* and put 
 the final stroke to his amiability by requesting an intro- 
 duction to Miss Lisle. 
 
 Lady Carlyon was delighted. It was the proudest mo- 
 ment of Rita’s life. Every eye was turned upon her. 
 She stood erect in the pride of her magnificent beauty* and 
 his royal highness bent before her* dazzled by the light of 
 that wondrous face. 
 
 He murmured some few complimentary words* and then 
 solicited the favor of one waltz. The keenest observer 
 could not have detected one passing gleam of triumph in 
 the dark eyes; the snowy plumage of the gorgeous fan did 
 not flutter as she held it against her bosom. 
 
 Accustomed to stately beauties and ladies of high degree* 
 the duke* the cynosure of all eyes* said to himself that the 
 debutante surpassed them all. 
 
 Rita saw the envious and admiring glances that followed 
 her every movement; she knew that the homage of her 
 royal partner would give a stamp and seal to her popu- 
 larity — would set her far above all rivals. Even while she 
 was in the whirl of the dauce* she thought of all these 
 things. One idea was paramount — Lord Lisle would see 
 
LORD LISLE* S DAUGHTER. 123 
 
 how others worshiped her, and it might make him more 
 eager in his wooing. 
 
 When the waltz ended, and the duke returned with his 
 beautiful partner to the seat she had left. Lord Lisle was 
 there with Lady Carlyon. Rita's triumph was complete. 
 His royal highness danced no more; during the few min- 
 utes that he remained he lingered by her side; when he 
 bade her adieu, it was with a wish, most flatteringly ex- 
 pressed, that he might have the pleasure of seeing her 
 again. 
 
 It was a lesson in worldliness to see how she was sur- 
 rounded then. Yet no one could discern the faintest con- 
 sciousness of her success. Her smiles were brighter and 
 more charming than usual; nothing else denoted any 
 elation. 
 
 Lord Lisle was struck with what he saw. Surely this 
 girl, from whom he would so gladly have freed himself, 
 must have fascinations that he did not understand. All 
 around him people were talking of her; the men in 
 warmest, most extravagant terms; the ladies, with affected 
 candor and ill-concealed jealousy. How was it that he 
 alone of all the world was untouched by her beauty, un- 
 charmed by her stately grace? 
 
 “You look rather tired," said Lady Carlyon to Miss 
 Lisle. “ You have danced every dance, I believe. Lord 
 Lisle, where is your gallantry? Miss Lisle would perhaps 
 like to walk through the rooms. A few minutes in the 
 conservatory would be refreshing; it is cool and fragrant." 
 
 With a silent bow Philip offered his arm to Rita, and 
 they walked through the long suite of rooms. 
 
 “ Opportunities are given to most men," said Philip. 
 “ I had better make the most of mine, as I have a ques- 
 tion to ask to-night. I will ask it now and here." 
 
 There was no one in the conservatory. Philip placed a 
 chair for Rita near the pretty lily-shaped fountain. 
 
 ^ “ There could not be a more pleasant place to repose,” 
 
124 
 
 LORD lisle’s daughter. 
 
 * • 
 
 he said. “It is cool, fragrant, and quiet; the sound of 
 this falling water lulls one to rest.” 
 
 She was gazing dreamily into the rippling water; the 
 music of it took her back to Queen's Lynne. She saw a 
 gorgeous evening sky, a stretch of golden sand, and a sun- 
 lit, smiling sea. She saw a dark, handsome face looking 
 in her own; her hands seemed to burn where those pas- 
 sionate kisses had fallen; words such as she would never 
 hear again sounded once more in her ear. 
 
 “ How he loved me,” she thought; “ and I never cared 
 for him!” 
 
 “Rita,” said the low voice of Philip Lisle, “can you 
 spare me a few moments? I have something very par- 
 ticular to say to you.” 
 
 She raised her eyes from the rippling water and looked 
 anxiously at him. 
 
 But Lord Lisle was puzzled what to say. Had Daisy 
 been sitting there he would have simply said: 
 
 “ Tell me, Daisy, when will you be my wife.” 
 
 He was too honest to feign a love he did not feel, yet he 
 wished to be kind and affectionate to the young girl his 
 dying kinsman had confided to him. 
 
 “ Do you remember the evening your father died,” he 
 asked, “ and what passed then?” 
 
 A crimson blush covered her face. Could it be that the 
 one passionate hope of her heart was to be gratified at last? 
 
 “ I could never forget it,” she said, gently; and then a 
 deep silence fell upon them. 
 
 “ Rita,” continued Lord Lisle, arousing himself at last, 
 “ I am but an awkward wooer — so awkward that 1 am as- 
 tonished at myself. Can you overlook that — will you par- 
 don my abruptness, and tell me when will you consent to 
 be my wife?” 
 
 For the first time that evening Rita lost her self-posses- 
 sion; the jeweled fingers trembled, the rich color faded 
 from her cheek and lips. 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER, 
 
 125 
 
 “ That is an important question/' she replied. 
 
 “Yes/' said Philip, gravely. “Do not let me hurry 
 you, Rita. Take time to think it over. Give me your 
 answer when you like." 
 
 “ I do not require time for thinking," she said; “ it is 
 not that." 
 
 All that was womanly and tender in her seemed to be 
 aroused; the pride and hauteur died from her face; a 
 light, soft and beautiful, came into it; the dark, lustrous 
 eyes were dimmed with happy tears. 
 
 “It is not that, Philip," she said, rising and placing 
 her hand on his arm. “ I am ready to redeem my promise 
 whenever you will; but do you love me — tell me, do you 
 love me?" 
 
 Lord Lisle felt an uncomfortable sensation, as if being 
 placed in the greatest difficulty any one had ever been in. 
 He could not look into that beautiful face, and say bluntly 
 he did not love her; nor could he feign a lover's rapture 
 that he did not feel. He evaded all reply by raising her 
 hand and pressing his lips upon it. 
 
 “ There are times," she said, with rare and graceful 
 humility, “ when I feel unworthy to be your wife. My 
 life has not been all happiness." 
 
 He interrupted her, touched to the heart by that rare 
 softening, and murmured something to the effect that she 
 was worthy to be a queen. 
 
 “ Ah, no," she said, “ I am not worthy, Philip; but if 
 you love me, if I am your wife, I will try as I have never 
 done before; and you will help me?" 
 
 Lord Lisle was only mortal. The beautiful pleading 
 face so near his own; the dark, lustrous eyes swimming in 
 tears; she so proud to others, courted, flattered, and ad- 
 mired. He clasped her in his arms and kissed the tears 
 away. 
 
 “ 1 will do my best," he said, gently, “ to make you 
 happy, Rita. Tell me— when will you be my wife?” 
 
126 LORD LISLE 5 S DAUGHTER. 
 
 They stood by the little fountain, whose pretty/ rippling 
 waters told nothing of the dread tragedy even then loom- 
 ing in the distance, and they talked of the marriage that 
 was to take place when the summer flowers had ceased to 
 bloom, and the autumn leaves were falling. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 On arriving home on that eventful night, Rita hurried 
 to her own chamber. She required no attendance — she 
 longed to be alone. During the whole evening she had 
 exercised marvelous self-control. She had seen herself 
 queen of the most brilliant throng in London. Men 
 whose names were historical had vied with each other who 
 should pay the most flattering homage to her — royal lips 
 had complimented her; and then came the crowning tri- 
 umph — Lord Lisle, whom she loved with all the strength 
 of her ambitious nature, had asked her to say when she 
 would be his wife. All this had happened— the very 
 depths of her heart had been stirred. Now she wanted to 
 be alone to think it over. 
 
 The wax tapers were lighted on the sumptuous toilet- 
 table — a cosy easy-chair was drawn up to it. Rita fastened 
 the door, and seated herself before the large mirror. 
 
 The future lay before her — one path of roses. There 
 was not a thorn to be seen in it — not a cloud in the bright 
 sky that smiled upon her. In a few short months the 
 dearest wish of her heart would be gratified — she would be 
 Lady Lisle. 
 
 “He loves me,” she said to herself ; “and in time to 
 come he will worship me.” 
 
 There came to her no memory of the deep, passionate 
 love that had once been hers. 
 
 “After all,” she said to hercolf, “it has prospered. 
 What an old woman's tale all that nonsense about evil and 
 good is! I have made the most of circumstances — the 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 127 
 
 most of my beauty. I have trampled underfoot all that 
 the world calls honor and* truth. What am 1 the worse? 
 Why need I have feared what fools call retribution? I 
 have prospered. Evil has been my good. There is no 
 more a shadow of danger to fear. Henceforward my life 
 will be a series of triumphs one more brilliant than the 
 other. All the world shall know and talk of the beautiful 
 Lady Lisle \” 
 
 Her eyes wandered from her own face to the shining dia- 
 monds. Suddenly they fell upon a white, folded paper 
 lying underneath the mirror. She thought nothing of it 
 at first, and did not move to reach it. Not until her 
 reverie ended did she carelessly take up the little note and 
 open it. 
 
 Ah, is there no retribution? Can evil prosper? As she 
 reads the bright color fades from her face — the white lips 
 part with a low gasping cry — the jeweled hands tremble — 
 weird, wild horror comes into the dark eyes. Then push- 
 ing far from her the shining gems, she— lately so proud 
 and radiant — lay white and crouching upon the ground. 
 Pride, hope, ambition, love — all crushed for the moment 
 by deadly fear. 
 
 Yet they were not terrible words that she read. Some 
 would have glanced over them, heedful of the passionate 
 love they betrayed, thinking of the devoted heart that 
 dictated them. 
 
 “ Rita ”• — so the letter ran— “ I must see you, my dar- 
 ling! No matter what happens, I must see you! 1 re- 
 turned to England some weeks since — I went straight to 
 Rooks’ Nest, hoping, believing, you would be there to 
 welcome me and redeem your promise. Heaven grant 
 you may never feel the grief and anguish that fell upon 
 me when I heard that you, my darling — my promised wife 
 — had left, never to return. In the neighborhood I heard 
 your story — people still tell of the day when strangers came 
 
m 
 
 LORD LISLE^S DAUGHTER, 
 
 and took you away. But I could learn no. more; Mrs. 
 Feme would tell me nothing of your name or address. To 
 my passionate pleading and prayers she gave no heed. In 
 despair that knows no words I sought for you. There is 
 little need to tell you the clew by which I discovered my 
 lost darling — my wife that is to be. The world may call 
 you 4 Miss Lisle;' you may be a brilliant belle, a wealthy 
 heiress — no matter, you are mine, sworn to me by the 
 most solemn vow a woman could take. Had such fortune 
 come to me — were I to be made a king to-morrow, it 
 would not matter; 1 should value all because you were to 
 share it with me. 
 
 44 I have worked hard for you, Rita, these three years. 
 I have come to claim you. I know you are true to me, 
 •. and waiting for me. No fear assails me. Perhaps those 
 proud relations of yours may want some preparation before 
 seeing one who is to take their pride and hope from them. 
 1 leave all that to you; only appoint a time and place 
 where I may meet you. My heart hungers and thirsts for 
 one glance of your beautiful face. My whole soul longs 
 for one word of welcome from your lips. Send a line to 
 this address, and hasten the time, Rita darling. I can live 
 no longer without you. There may be difficulties; you 
 must overcome them. Who has a greater right to you 
 than I?" 
 
 There was no name at the end of the letter, but she 
 knew it was from Ralph Ashton. After so many years, 
 this ghost had arisen; in the hour of her triumph, at the 
 very moment when she had mocked at fear and laughed at 
 retribution, this blow had fallen, paralyzing her at first 
 with mortal dread. 
 
 44 I hate him!" she said. 44 1 wish he were dead!" 
 
 She tore the letter into shreds, and stamped upon them, 
 inwardly feeling she could trample his life underfoot. Re- 
 flection succeeded fear— indignation came swiftly after, ^ 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 129 
 
 “ How had he dared — poor and lowly born — how dare 
 he imagine that their foolish acquaintance was to continue? 
 His wife!” A smile of derision curled her beautiful lips. 
 She was betrothed to Lord Lisle — Lord Lisle, who would 
 thrash this low-born hind within an inch of his life if she 
 complained to him. She must see him — temporize with 
 him — show him the great and impassable difference be- 
 tween them. Then, if he was not satisfied, and did not 
 take his dismissal kindly, she would complain to -Lord 
 Lisle. 
 
 She began to smile at her own fears. The worst that 
 could happen had befallen her. Ealph had found her out; 
 but, after all, it did not, could not matter. Difficulties 
 had arisen before, and she had conquered them. She 
 should do the same again. 
 
 Suddenly the thought struck her — who had placed the 
 note upon her toilet-table? It was not there when she 
 dressed for the ball. Through the rest of that summer 
 night Eita lay in deep, conscious thought — there was no 
 rest and no sleep for her. She must answer the letter. 
 There was no alternative. But see him she would not, 
 unless she was obliged to do so. 
 
 She dare not ring for her maid at an earlier hour than 
 usual, lest some suspicion might be aroused. But when 
 Therese did come she looked with surprise at her lady's 
 pale face and shadowed eyes. 
 
 When nearly dressed, Eita turned suddenly, as though 
 the thought had only just occurred to her. 
 
 “ Did you place that note upon my toilet-table last even* 
 ing, Therese?” she asked. 
 
 The young girl's face flushed slightly. 
 
 “ I hope it was not wrong, Miss Lisle,” she said. 
 
 “ Wrong?” said Eita. “ Certainly not; why should it 
 be? -The only thing is 1 do not understand that kind of 
 thing, and should much prefer letters being sent to mo 
 
 5 ~ 
 
130 LORD lisle's daughter. 
 
 through the post. How came you to do it?” she con- 
 tinued. 
 
 46 The person who gave it to me said it was of the 
 greatest importance. He asked me to place it there that 
 you might see it. ” 
 
 44 How came he to do so?” asked Miss Lisle, with 
 haughty indifference. 
 
 44 1 do not know,” replied the maid. 44 The truth is. 
 Miss Lisle, 1 have met him this week several times. He 
 seemed to be watching about the house. He spoke to me 
 last night; he gave me the letter, and asked me to place it 
 where you could see it.” 
 
 44 it is strange,” said Rita, calmly. 44 Is he a gentle- 
 man, Therese?” 
 
 She could not resist the question; she was so anxious to 
 hear the maid's reply. 
 
 44 No; I should not say he was a gentleman, miss,” was 
 the candid reply; 44 but he seemed to be a very respecta- 
 ble, nice-looking young man. ” 
 
 44 1 do not blame you this time,” said Miss Lisle; 44 but 
 remember never to take the same liberty again, Therese. 
 If— if that person should ever ask you to give me another 
 letter, pray tell him the post-office is the proper channel 
 for begging letters of all kinds.” 
 
 Therese thought herself only too fortunate to escape any 
 further anger from her imperious young mistress. She 
 said nothing of the handsome, haggard face and imploring 
 eyes, or the gold which found its way from Ralph's open 
 hand to her pocket. 
 
 Rita did not go down to breakfast. She shrunk from 
 the ordeal of hearing remarks and comments over her pale 
 face. She ordered some tea to be brought to her, resolv- 
 ing before anything else to answer Ralph's letter. 
 
 But Daisy knocked at the door, and would not be de- 
 nied. 
 
 44 1 know you are tired,” she said, bending over the 
 
LORD LISTENS DAUGHTER. 
 
 131 
 
 beautiful, false face. 44 Therese tells me you are quite 
 fatigued; but I could not help coming to you, my sister. 
 Mrs. Wyverne has been recounting your triumphs, and she 
 has told me something else besides. Let me kiss you, 
 Eita, and wish you all happiness. We were children to- 
 gether. Your pleasures and your sorrows will always be 
 mine! So you danced with a royal highness,” she con- 
 tinued, gayly. 44 Ah, Eita, 1 smile, yet the tears lie close 
 to my eyes. Who would have thought it years ago? You 
 will soon be Lady Lisle! Surely no life ever had stronger 
 vicissitudes than yours!” 
 
 46 No,” said Eita; 44 it is like one of the fairy tales you 
 used to admire so greatly. Daisy, my head aches, and 1 
 am very tired. Tell Mrs. Wyverne lam going to rest this 
 morning, and do not let any one come near me till I ring 
 my bell.” 
 
 CHAPTEE XXL 
 
 It was a cleverly worded reply that Eita composed in 
 answer to Ealph Ashton’s letter. There was not one 
 word which could in any way compromise her. She said 
 nothing of welcome, nothing of love — she never named 
 constancy; but she appealed to his generosity. 44 She was 
 surrounded with difficulties,” she said; 44 would he be gen- 
 erous and wait — not press for an interview that would 
 cause her to run the serious risk of displeasing her newly 
 found friends and relatives?” She said nothing of the dis- 
 tance between them, but every word betrayed how great 
 she felt it to be. 
 
 The letter written, she would not intrust it to any one. 
 With her own hands she carried it % to the nearest post- 
 office, wishing as she did so that it might be the last she 
 was ever to write to him. 
 
 Mrs. Wyverne came to her dressing-room almost imme« 
 diately afterward. 
 
132 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 “ Daisy tells me you are better, my dear, and that you 
 have been out. I want to speak to you very seriously. 
 Can you spare me a few minutes?” 
 
 “ My time is all at your service,” she replied; and the 
 elder lady sat down upon the luxurious little couch. 
 
 44 Your wedding is to take place in the autumn,” said 
 Mrs. Wy verne. 44 I assure you, my dear, the time is short 
 enough for all that we have to do. Lady Hammond, has 
 been here this morning, and she tells me that Messrs. Storr 
 & Mortimer have some magnificent pearls and rubies. 
 She says they are more superb than anything she ever saw. 
 I have been thinking that as I intend to give you jewelry, 
 we can not do better than drive there at once, and if they 
 please you you can select what you will. You must choose 
 your own design for the setting. Have you any engage- 
 ment which will prevent you from going with me?” 
 
 64 None,” she replied, gently; but Mrs. Wyverne won- 
 dered why the beautiful face looked so strangely white and 
 sad. 
 
 44 Daisy is going with us,” she continued. 44 1 asked 
 her purposely; she has exquisite taste in all such matters. 
 The carriage will be round in ten minutes; will you hasten 
 to dress?” 
 
 The sun shone brightly, and the streets were crowded 
 with gayly dressed people; yet on Rita’s heart there 
 seemed to linger a heavy weight of dread and presenti- 
 ment. All pleasure was spoiled by the miserable memory 
 of Ralph Ashton. 
 
 Mrs. Wyverne and Daisy both thought their companion 
 silent and dull. 
 
 Ah, me, the gorgeous jewels spread out before her! 
 Diamonds that looked like living jets of flame; rubies 
 glowing like hearts of fire; emeralds green and bright; 
 ■opals with wondrous changing tints; and pearls that glim- 
 mered and glittered like dew-drops with the sun shining in 
 them. 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 183 
 
 At any other time those proud, dark eyes would have 
 lighted up with gratified vanity. Now she glanced list- 
 lessly over them. While Mrs. Wyverne admired the 
 rubies, and Daisy hung enchanted over the pearls, she was 
 thinking how could she get rid of Ralph Ashton. 
 
 “ Rita,” said Mrs. Wyverne, suddenly, “ you seem very 
 absent. What are you thinking about?” 
 
 The question alarmed her; she must arouse herself, or 
 they would suspect. With a strong force of her iron will 
 she drove back the haunting fear and applied herself to 
 the task of choosing from among the magnificent gems be- 
 fore her. 
 
 Little they thought who watched the slender, white 
 fingers that touched the shining jewels, what deadly 
 thoughts of hatred were passing through her heart. Mrs. 
 Wyverne gave her carte-blanche , and Rita selected rubies 
 and pearls that a princess might have envied. She chose 
 the most gorgeous settings; and Daisy smiled as she 
 thought how well these rare jewels would become her sis- 
 ter’s queenly beauty. 
 
 “ You will have the finest jewels in London, Rita,” said 
 Mrs. Wyverne, as they drove away. “ And now, if you 
 have still time to spare, 1 should like to call upon Mr. 
 Feme. I spoke to him last week about beginning your 
 portrait, and he appointed to-day for an interview.” 
 
 Rita looked up in silent wonder. Mrs. Wyverne smiled. 
 
 “ I have said nothing to you about it,” she continued. 
 “ I want your picture as a surprise to Philip. Every Lady 
 Lisle hangs in the great gallery; you have a double right 
 to be there, as a daughter of one lord and wife of another. 
 I consider Mr. Feme the finest artist in England. If you 
 are willing, 1 should like him to commence your portrait 
 at once.” 
 
 “lean have no possible objection,” said Rita. “On 
 the contrary, I like Mr. Feme’s pictures, and shall be 
 much pleased to sit for him.” 
 
134 
 
 LORD LISLE*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 They found several visitors of rank and note at the 
 studio. Lady Rolfe, with her pretty, fashionable daugh- 
 ter, the young Countess of Eversham; Sir Harry Hulme, 
 and Captain Lionel Verne, the son of the bravest and 
 finest officer in the English army. 
 
 Rita saw at one glance how she had risen in popular 
 favor. Lady Eversham, the most fastidious and exclusive 
 of belles, hastened forward to address her. The gallant 
 captain impatiently awaited his turn; and Sir Harry 
 Hulme was busy composing some original compliment. 
 
 They withdrew at length, after many protestations of 
 delight at the unexpected meeting, and assurances from 
 Lady Eversham that she should look forward with delight 
 to the friendship of Miss Lisle. 
 
 The artist, Mr. Feme, had leisure then to speak. He 
 listened to Mrs. Wyverne^s ideas about the picture; his 
 keen, artistic eye drinking in, as it were, the magnificent 
 beauty of Miss Lisle and the delicate loveliness of ner 
 sister. 
 
 Seeing how much Mr. Feme admired Daisy, Mrs. Wy- 
 verne introduced her to him. For the first time, Rita was 
 slightly jealous. He seemed to pass her over and concen- 
 trate his attention on the fair, spiritual face and tender 
 eyes of her foster-sister. 
 
 “ And this young lady,” he said, turning to Mrs. Wy- 
 verne, “ I hope she intends honoring me with a few sit- 
 tings?” 
 
 Daisy laughed — a rippling, musical laugh that charmed 
 Mi. Feme. 
 
 44 No,” she said, gayly. “ I think that Fate never in- 
 tended my face to be hung side by side with the Ladies 
 Lisle.” 
 
 In after-years they both remembered these careless 
 words. 
 
 The time was arranged for the first sitting. 
 
 “We must hurry home,” said Mrs. Wyverne, then; 
 
LORD LISLE*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 135 
 
 44 There .will be barely time to dress for dinner, and I ex- 
 pect Lord Lisle. Not one word of the picture to him, re- 
 member; it will be a charming surprise. " 
 
 Lord Lisle thought his beautiful fiancee looked pale and 
 tired. He was kinder and more affectionate to her in his 
 manner than he had been before. 
 
 The evening gloaming had set in when dinner ended, 
 and Lord Lisle joined the ladies in the drawing-room. v 
 Eita had drawn a large easy-chair near the open window,' 
 through which the summer breeze came in sweet with per- 
 fume. There was an expression of deep thought on her 
 face; the brilliant, vivid coloring had grown strangely 
 pale. Lord Lisle thought her more beautiful under this 
 softened aspect than he had ever done before. 
 
 Why did she look sad and thoughtful — his uncle's dar- 
 ling child? Could it be that she had noticed the coldness 
 of his love? The young man's generous heart smote him 
 with a keen sense of pain. There could be no other rea- 
 son why the woman who loved him so dearly should look 
 unhappy. He resolved to drive that expression from her 
 face. Lord Lisle liked to do anything thoroughly, if he 
 did it at all. No half measures suited him. Honor and 
 her own love bound him to this young girl, and he said to 
 himself that he would trample all else underfoot and make 
 her happy. 
 
 He went at once to her. 
 
 “ You danced too much last evening, Rita," he said. 
 “ It is useless to deny the fact — you are unlike yourself to- 
 day. Shall I read to you?" 
 
 44 You are very kind," she said, gently. 44 Talk to me; 
 I should like that better. " 
 
 Lord Lisle drew a little footstool near her, and sat at 
 her feet. 
 
 He talked to Rita as he had never done before — of a 
 future when they should be together, sharing one home. 
 
 i 
 
136 
 
 LORD LXSLE 9 S DAUGHTER. 
 
 He talked of his hopes and his plans — all h© intended t© 
 do, and of all his hopes for her. 
 
 She listened, and yielded to the charm. Something 
 would happen. Ealph dare not persecute her^ he would 
 withdraw his claim, and leave her in peace. For the time 
 she quieted her fears, and Lord Lisle, when he saw the 
 smile return to her lips and the light to her eyes, thought 
 how cleverly he had guessed the cause of her sadness, and 
 how dearly she loved him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The post of the next morning brought another letter 
 from Ralph. Mrs. Wyverne passed it to Rita. A dark, 
 angry flush covered her face as she received it; the com- 
 mon blue envelope — the rude style of address, the clumsy 
 seal, all formed so great a contrast with the elegant let- 
 ters that came with it. 
 
 “ That looks like a tradesman’s bill, Rita,” said Mrs. 
 Wyverne, as she passed the envelope to her. 
 
 She made some slight remark, then put the letter away. 
 Had she dared she would have torn it into shreds, and 
 stamped upon the pieces; but fear compelled her to read 
 what he had written. 
 
 Her heart sickened at the passionate, loving words. 
 “ His own Rita,” he called her — “ his wife that was to be. 
 Yes, he would wait patiently; but only for a short time. 
 He must see her soon, and hear from her own lips when 
 she would become his wife.” 
 
 It was well for Ralph Ashton that he did not see the 
 bitter contempt on the face of the woman he loved. She 
 trembled with angry indignation; she hated herself for her 
 folly in having ever given such a man power over her. 
 
 4 4 1 must have been mad!” she cried. “ Did 1 sell my- 
 self for a pair of diamond ear-rings, and the pleasure of 
 hearing a few flattering words?” 
 
to ED LISTENS DAUGHTER. 
 
 W 
 
 All that day she spent with Mrs. Wyverne, ordering and 
 selecting costly dresses of every description; trying, in the 
 whirl of business and gayety, to forget all fear. 
 
 Never was bride or fiancee so magnificently portioned. 
 Mrs. Wyverne seemed to wish to lay all the treasures of 
 earth at the feet of her beautiful grandchild. Rita’s eyes 
 ached with the glitter and sheen of all that was brilliant 
 and rare. 
 
 Could any one be so mad as to think that she would 
 give up all this to become the wife of a man she detested 
 — give up the title she had set her heart upon — give up 
 the position she had longed for — and more than all, the 
 man she loved? 
 
 Yet she awaited Ralph’s next step in fear. What would 
 he do? Would he force his way into the house and de- 
 mand to see her? Would he call and ask for her? Would 
 he write and insist upon a meeting? She knew not; she 
 walked blindly, like one upon the edge of a precipice, who 
 neither sees nor cares to see the brink. 
 
 The exhibition of the Royal Academy of that year was 
 considered an unusually successful one. The whole fash- 
 ionable world went to see Mr. Feme’s wonderful picture 
 “Condemned.” People raved of its simple pathos, its 
 grand execution, its tragical story. 
 
 It was the picture of a young and beautiful girl alone in 
 a prison-cell; a sunbeam coming in through the narrow 
 grating touched her bowed head with its golden glory. 
 There was a tragical history in the beautiful, despairing 
 face. Love that knew no bounds or measure had played 
 in the beautiful eyes now so haggard and wild; love that 
 had yielded to jealousy and led to crime. She did not look 
 repentant or sorrowful, although the life-blood of the man 
 she had loved stained her hand. There was power and 
 passion, capability of endeavor, all expressed in the deli- 
 cate features. The white hands, heavily chained, were 
 clasped together, but not in prayer. 
 
vm 
 
 LOtlt) L1SLE ? S DAUGHTER. 
 
 It was a grand picture; people looked at it and left it in 
 silence. Strong emotion does not always call forth words. 
 There was nothing to be said about it; the story told itself. 
 Lord Lisle called one morning to ask Daisy and Rita to go 
 with him to see the far-famed picture. 
 
 “ Pray let us walk through the park/* said Daisy. “ 1 
 am quite tired of going everywhere in a carriage. See, 
 Rita, how the sun shines; the birds will be all singing and 
 the chestnut-trees in flower. Let us walk.** 
 
 “lam quite willing/* said Rita, indifferently. Provid- 
 ed she were with Philip she cared for little else. 
 
 “ You had better make a ravishing toilet/* continued 
 Daisy, with a smile; and Rita agreed with her. 
 
 It was the first time since the announcement of their 
 engagement that she had gone out with Lord Lisle, and 
 she resolved to do honor to the occasion. 
 
 Philip thought he had never seen her looking so beauti- 
 ful; all details of millinery were lost upon him. He saw a 
 radiant vision clad in rich, sweeping silk, with a cloud of 
 lace falling artistically in all directions. The queenly head 
 was covered with a little gem of a bonnet — white lace 
 again. One crimson flower, glowing like the heart of a 
 pomegranate, lay upon the massive coils of dark hair. 
 
 J ust as they entered the park Captain Darcy met them. 
 On hearing their destination he begged permission to join 
 the party. He attached himself to Rita*s side, and Lord 
 Lisle walked a little in advance with Daisy. 
 
 “ This is an unexpected happiness/* said Captain Darcy 
 to Rita. “ I am leaving England, and may not have an- 
 other opportunity of saying farewell to you.** 
 
 “ Leaving England?** said Rita, indifferently. “ When, 
 and why?** 
 
 “ In three days from now/* he replied. “ I have ex- 
 changed into a regiment going to India. That is when; I 
 wish I dare tell you why.** 
 
LORD LISTENS DAUGHTER. 139 
 
 “You can if you will,” she said, interested by the 
 handsome, melancholy face, and the sad, patient voice. 
 
 “May I?” he asked. “And you promise not to be 
 angry? Oh, let me tell you, Miss Lisle; give me one kind 
 word and let me take it into exile with me! You can not 
 help being the most beautiful and noble of women,” he 
 continued; “and I can not help loving you. Do not be 
 angry. Miss Lisle; 1 loved you the first moment I saw you, 
 and I said to myself then that I would freely give my life 
 to win one kind word from you. 1 can not help loving 
 you; but 1 am a man of honor and a gentleman. They 
 tell me you are going to marry Lord Lisle, and I bow to 
 my fate. 1 shall go far from you, where I may learn to 
 forget the love that is at once the bane and the pride of 
 my life.” 
 
 “ I am sorry,” began Rita, gently; but he interrupted 
 her. 
 
 “Do not say that. Miss Lisle; da not let me think I 
 have ever brought one sad thought to you. Believe me, 
 looking upon you now for the last time, I say that I would 
 rather love you, and love you in vain, than be happy with 
 any other woman in the wide world.” 
 
 He stopped abruptly, and Rita knew not what to say. 
 Once before she had heard words like these — words that 
 seemed to chime with the falling waves and the murmur- 
 ing winds. 
 
 “ I ought not to have told you this,” he said; “ it would 
 have been nobler and braver to have gone away and have 
 let my secret be buried with me. But you will give me 
 one word to cheer my exile. I have light, warmth, and 
 happiness with you; 1 go out into darkness and cold. Say 
 something to me that I may remember in the years to 
 come.” 
 
 “ I say you are a noble man. Captain Darcy,” said Rita, 
 gently. “ I predict that there is happiness yet in store for 
 you.” 
 
140 
 
 tOKB LISLF/S DAUGHTER. 
 
 “ No,” he replied. “ I may find peace, hut not happi- 
 ness, Miss Lisle. There comes a thunder-cloud occasion- 
 ally in the brightest summer sky. Life lies all smiling be- 
 fore you; but trouble may come* If ever it should — if 
 ever you should need a friend with a strong arm and a 
 true heart, will you promise to remember me? I would 
 come from the uttermost ends of the world to serve you.” 
 
 “ I will remember,” she said. 
 
 And the time came when she would have given much 
 for such aid as he could have afforded her. 
 
 46 1 shall go away happier,” he said; “ 1 am glad I 
 spoke to you, Miss Lisle.” 
 
 He looked into the beautiful face upraised to his* with a 
 sweet smile. Suddenly he saw it change; the brilliant 
 color all faded; the white lips parted and uttered a low 
 cry. She laid one hand upon his arm. 
 
 “ Hasten!” she said, in a voice lie scarcely recognized — 
 “ hasten on!” 
 
 She walked with rapid footsteps; it was with difficulty 
 he kept pace with her. "When they left the park and 
 turned down the broad path she relaxed her speed and 
 turned to him. Her face was still white and her lips 
 quivering. 
 
 “ What is it. Miss Lisle?” he asked, anxiously; “ what 
 has alarmed you?” 
 
 46 A resemblance,” she said; “perhaps only a fancied 
 one.” 
 
 “ If any one annoyed you,” he said, “ 1 would — ” 
 
 “ What would you do?” she interrupted, with a smile. 
 
 “Shoot him,” replied Captain Darcy, “without any 
 remorse.” 
 
 She looked almost wistfully at him. Ah! if some brave 
 man like this would but espouse her cause, and free her 
 from the wretched persecution that blighted her life. If 
 &he could but tell him all, and ask him to free her from 
 
loud lisle's daughter. 141 
 
 Ralph Ashton? But no, she could not share her miserable 
 secret— it must be kept at any price. 
 
 Margaret Lisle committed many grave crimes during 
 that morning. She had made, perhaps, the greatest mistake 
 of her life. She liad converted Ralph Ashton's passionate 
 love into fierce hate — she had changed a devoted lover into 
 an implacable foe. 
 
 Walking with Captain Darcy, listening to the warm, 
 eager words, she had, for the moment, forgotten all else 
 save him. She was looking earnestly at him, when, sud- 
 denly crossing the park at some little distance, she saw 
 Ralph Ashton. Her quick eyes noted the dark, handsome 
 face, grown coarse and sunburned, the vulgar, ill-fitting 
 clothes, the large, ungloved hands and showy ring. Her 
 heart sickened at sight of him. She felt nothing but the 
 most intense loathing and disgust. 
 
 Suddenly she perceived that he recognized her. She saw 
 the start of surprise; the uncontrollable joy that bright- 
 ened his face; the quick, eager manner in which he has- 
 tened to meet her; the outstretched hand extended in 
 greeting. For once self-control failed her; disgust over- 
 came fear; she laid her hand upon Captain Darcy's arm 
 and turned indignantly away. 
 
 Ralph saw it all — the disgust, contempt, and fear that 
 blanched her face; the hasty gesture of avoidance; the 
 hurried manner in which she evaded and avoided him. 
 At first he was stunned as with a heavy blow. The girl 
 who had listened to him on the sea-shore; who had re- 
 peated the binding oath in the sunlit garden at Queen's 
 Lynne; who had promised to be his wife when he should 
 return and claim her; the girl for whom he had worked 
 and toiled day and night, after nearly four years of ab- 
 sence, had coolly looked in his face and passed him by with 
 dislike and avoidance. 
 
 For some minutes he could hot realize it. The shock 
 seemed to have paralyzed him. When he recovered Rita 
 
142 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 had passed out of sight, and Ralph’s anger was something 
 fearful to witness. 
 
 44 So,” he said slowly to himself, 64 that is it! She sent 
 me a few sugared words, thinking to put me off — meaning 
 to deceive me. She passed me by; she was ashamed to 
 speak to me before that fine officer! She looked as though 
 she hated me, and I — oh, heavens, I have loved her so!” 
 
 Was he ashamed of the sharp, stinging pain that rankled 
 in his heart — of the hot tears that blinded his eyes like 
 falling rain? They changed him; love grew into fierce 
 hate. Margaret Lisle committed that morning one of the 
 most fatal errors in her erring life. 
 
 There and then, before leaving the park, Ralph medi- 
 tated long, and formed the plans so fatal to the girl he 
 loved. 
 
 44 You will not tell me what alarmed you. Miss Lisle?” 
 said Captain Darcy again. 
 
 44 It was nothing,” she replied; 44 but a fancied resem- 
 blance to one I knew and dreaded years ago. I have quite 
 recovered from my alarm. Let us speak of pleasanter 
 things. Have you seen this famous picture?” 
 
 46 No,” replied the captain. 44 And if you will pardon 
 me, Miss Lisle, I will leave you here. 1 will make my 
 apologies to Lord Lisle. 1 am not in the mood for look- 
 ing at pictures.” ^ 
 
 44 As you will,” said Riia, gently. 
 
 44 Say those words to me again. Miss Lisle; bid me God- 
 speed on my journey!” 
 
 For one half moment she hesitated. Surely the lips so 
 steeped in lies should not . utter that name. 
 
 44 Good-bye, Captain Darcy!” sh6 said. 44 God speed 
 you. I shall always remember you.” 
 
 He turned away lest she should see the emotion on his 
 face. 
 
 44 Going?” said Lord Lisle. 44 Ah, you soldiers are very 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 143 
 
 fickle! I thought you wanted to see the 4 Condemned '? 
 Good-morning; I shall see you at the club this evening." 
 
 44 Captain Darcy looks very melancholy, Rita," said 
 Daisy. 44 Have you been cross, or proud, or inflexible?" 
 
 44 No," said Rita, with a startled look; 44 1 have been 
 passive, Daisy. That is the most 1 can say for myself." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 They stood before the wondrous picture. Daisy's sweet 
 eyes filled with tears as she '"gazed upon the beautiful, de- 
 spairing face and the chained wrists. 
 
 44 The old story," said Lord Lisle, gravely. 44 Love is 
 at once the greatest good and the greatest evil." 
 
 44 Abuse of it may be an evil," said Daisy. 44 Love 
 itself could never be anything but good. " 
 
 44 It is not the master passion of the world," said Rita. 
 44 Ambition is greater." 
 
 44 Do not say the word!" exclaimed Lord Lisle. 44 1 
 dislike ambition and ambitious people. No word seems to 
 me more harsh on the lips of a young girl than that. I 
 could pardon much to love — nothing to ambition." 
 
 These words haunted Rita. He could pardon much to 
 love — nothing to ambition. Oh, if ever he discovered her 
 secret, there would be no pity for her — nothing to plead 
 on her behalf! 
 
 That evening, as Rita, dressed with great magnificence 
 and skill, descended the grand staircase, a footman met 
 her, carrying in his hand a silver salver, oh which lay one 
 of those blue envelopes she knew and detested. 
 
 44 A man called with this before dinner, and desired me. 
 Miss Lisle, to give it to you at once. " 
 
 Rita took the letter with a gesture of superb indiffer- 
 ence. There was no time then to open it; the second diir 
 ner-bell bad rung, and Mrs. Wyverne had one of her grand 
 dinner-parties. She placed it carefully in the pocket of 
 
144 
 
 LORD LISTENS DAUGHTER. 
 
 her dress. No one who had seen her that night would 
 have believed any secret care or trouble weighed upon her. 
 She threw off the stately reserve and hauteur that usually 
 wrapped her like a mantle. No smile was so sweet and 
 winning, no voice so musical, no wit so keen, no satire so 
 kindly as hers. Even Lord Lisle was charmed. He lin- 
 gered by her side, and when the little party broke up, he 
 touched her beautiful face with his lips. 
 
 “ That is my privilege now,” he said, gently. “ Good- 
 night, Rita. You shall be proclaimed Queen of Hearts.” 
 
 She laughed a low, sweet laugh — her heart beat high 
 with triumph. He was beginning to love her as she 
 wanted to be loved— as Captain Darcy loved her; poor 
 Captain Darcy! who had sailed that day for India, and 
 who was never to look upon her face again. 
 
 When she was alone in her own room, when her maid 
 had taken away the brilliant jewels and costly robes, Rita 
 opened her letter and read it. 
 
 They were fierce, angry words, such as come from the 
 lips of coarse, angry men. 
 
 46 She was his,” he said, “ before God and before man; 
 his by a thousand ties — by virtue of an oath she dare not 
 break — and he would claim her. She had passed him by 
 — ashamed of him before her grand friends; but it was 
 useless. She must appoint the time and place for an in- 
 terview, or lie would call at the house and force her to see 
 him. He would wait no longer — she must prepare to keep 
 her promise, and become his wife. He could force her to 
 do so; and if she would see him, and hear all he had to 
 say, she would see how he could compel her to keep her 
 promise.” 
 
 There was nothing much of love in the letter. He spoke 
 chiefly of force, and as though he had some mysterious 
 power over her. 
 
 A sickening fear and foreboding seized her as she read. 
 
lord lisle’s daughter. 145 
 
 All! could it be, after all, that evil brought its own pun- 
 ishment? Could it be that retribution had already begun? 
 
 A thousand different plans suggested themselves to her. 
 She would have shown scant mercy to Ealph Ashton had 
 he been in her power. All night, while others slept, she 
 walked restlessly up and down that sumptuous apartment; 
 all night, while the stars shone and the wind whistled 
 amid the trees, while the flowers rested and drank eagerly 
 of the glistening dew, she, fevered and worn, raging with 
 impotent hatred, tried to form some plan by which she 
 could free herself from Ealph Ashton. 
 
 She could only think of one thing — that was to tem- 
 porize with him until she was married to Philip. Once 
 Lady Lisle, she would defy the whole world. Nothing 
 could change, alter, or undo that. Ealph might rage and 
 fume; he might persecute and threaten; but if she were 
 Philip’s wife, what would it matter? If Lord Lisle should 
 know of this entanglement beforehand, with his keen sense 
 of honor she knew he would never dream of marrying her; 
 but if he heard of it afterward, for his own sake he would 
 hush the matter and shield her. 
 
 Once married, she had nothing to fear. If she could 
 keep him at bay until then, all would be well. She must 
 do again as she had done before — temporize with him. 
 Ah! if she could but go away— go to some quiet, out-of- 
 the-way place where he would not find her until the time 
 fixed for the wedding. 
 
 To think, with her, was ever to act. When the early 
 sunbeams peeped into her room, when the birds began 
 their morning hymn, and the flowers opened their bright 
 eyes, Eita was seated at her writing-table, composing, with 
 all the skill at her command, a letter that should pacify 
 Ealph Ashton. 
 
 She explained her “ seemingly strange behavior,” and 
 assured him that she was longing to see him. But would 
 he wait? She was busily engaged in removing all diffi- 
 
146 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 culties. Would he, as he valued her love, wait one week? 
 She would, in the meantime, arrange all for their meeting 
 and introduction to her friends. He must write and tell 
 her if he would consent. 
 
 It was a clever letter. Pity that such powers should be 
 so falsely applied. Every word of it was carefully weighed. 
 When Ralph Ashton read it he smiled a bitter, sardonic 
 smile. 
 
 64 She writes well/’ he muttered. 44 A week can make 
 no difference. As I value her love, I agree to it.” 
 
 He wrote in reply: 44 1 agree to your arrangement. I 
 will wait a week; at the end of that time, if I do not hear 
 from you, 1 shall call, and not leave the house until 1 
 have seen you. ” 
 
 The excitement, the fear and suspense had proved too 
 much for Rita’s strength. Daisy, going to her room one 
 hour after Ralph’s answer had been received and de- 
 stroyed, found her lying white and senseless upon the sofa* 
 
 Alarmed and anxious, Daisy hastily summoned Mrs. 
 Wyverne and her sister’s maid, Therese. When Rita 
 opened her eyes she found the three bending over her, 
 with startled faces. 
 
 44 My dear child,” said Mrs. Wyverne, 44 what is it — 
 what is the matter?” 
 
 44 1 feel ill,” replied Rita — 44 ill and overdone. Take 
 me away— let me be somewhere quiet and still.” 
 
 They laid her to rest in a darkened room; they bathed 
 her hot brow in cool, fragrant water, and then retired, to 
 hold an anxious consultation among themselves. 
 
 They had noticed a great change in her; her spirits 
 were unequal; there were times when both had seen a 
 wearied, wan look on her face and a shadow in her dark 
 eyes. There could be but one cause for it, and that was 
 ill-health. 
 
 Mrs. Wyverne thought the excitement of her presenta- 
 tion; the continued succession of gayeties, the whirl of 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 14 ? 
 
 pleasure, the never-ending preparations for her marriage 
 had been altogether too much for her. 
 
 “In my opinion, Daisy," said the elder lady, “your 
 sister will have a serious illness unless some steps are taken 
 at once. 1 do not like those dead faints; they show great 
 weakness. I must speak to Lord Lisle." 
 
 But there was no need. Rita sent for Mrs. Wyverne, 
 who found her lying pale and quiet, with a strange soften- 
 ing of her proud, haughty face. 
 
 “I am glad you are better, Rita," said Mrs. Wyverne; 
 “ but 1 am uneasy about your health." 
 
 “It is of that I wish to speak to you," replied Rita. 
 “ I have not complained — 1 dislike complaints, but I do 
 not feel well; I have not been well for some time. 1 am 
 tired, wearied, longing for rest." 
 
 “ And rest you shall have," said Mrs. Wyverne, whose 
 heart was touched by the young girl's sad face and plaint- 
 ive voice. “ The best of the season is over now. We will 
 go away for a time — you, Daisy, and myself. Would you 
 like that?" 
 
 “ Better than anything in the world!" she cried, grate- 
 fully. “ How kind you are to me! Yes, I should like a 
 few weeks of perfect rest and repose before my marriage — 
 and the time draws very near." 
 
 “Yes," said Mrs. Wyverne; “the time draws very 
 near. Where would you like to go? Lisle Court is all in 
 a ferment. " 
 
 “Let us go to some quiet spot," said Rita; “ a place 
 unknown to the great world, where we can be quite 
 alone." 
 
 “ 1 know of a pretty little watering-place in Wales. 1 
 went there many years ago. It is twenty miles from 
 Swansea. It is very quite and retired. Would you like 
 that?" 
 
 “ Very much," she replied. “I can not thank you, 
 hut indeed 1 am grateful. Will ^ou promise me one thing 
 
148 
 
 LORD LISTENS DAUGHTER. 
 
 more — promise that no one shall know where we are going 
 except Lord Lisle? Do not allow it to be mentioned be- 
 fore the servants or we shall have crowds of fashionable 
 friends invading our retreat. If you will promise me that 
 I shall soon be well.” 
 
 She drew Mrs. Wyverne’s face down to her own and 
 kissed it. 
 
 tfC It shall be just as you say, my dear child,” said the 
 elder lady; 64 even Therese shall not know where we are 
 going until she has left the house. Lord Lisle can keep a 
 secret, so can 1. But what a strange, nervous fancy it is!” 
 she continued, with a smile. “ However, if rest can re- 
 store you to health you shall soon be well.” 
 
 Lord Lisle cordially approved of the plan. He had 
 noticed some strange change in Rita, and thought the 
 arrangement a very sensible one. 
 
 Daisy was only too happy to leave gay, crowded London. 
 
 Nor was Rita insincere. She was really ill, and worn 
 out with the struggle. She wrote another letter to Ralph, 
 telling him she was ill, and unable to leave her room. His 
 reply did not tend to comfort her. 
 
 “ 111 or well,” he said, “ she must see him at the end of 
 the week.” 
 
 The indisposition of the beautiful Miss Lisle was much 
 deplored by the great world. She had grown so popular, 
 no ball or fete was considered complete without her. It 
 was a sudden eclipse of the brightest star. Condolence 
 and sympathy, in the shape of cards and letters, poured in 
 upon her. Mrs. Wyverne was flattered, Daisy amused, by 
 the sensation. 
 
 Her secret was well kept. No one knew anything of the 
 intended journey. Her maid was told that Miss Lisle was 
 going away for a few days* rest and quiet. Mrs. Wyverne 
 humored every whim and caprice, as though Rita had been 
 a sick child. 
 
 Lord Lisle promised to join them soon. One fine morn- 
 
LOUT) LISLE* S DAUGHTER. 
 
 149 
 
 ing, three days before the time appointed for seeing Ralph, 
 the three ladies, attended by servants, left London for 
 Sunbay, a quiet, retired spot on the southern shores of 
 Wales. 
 
 At the first view Sunbay was desolate — a wide sweep of 
 waters, and a clear, vast sky. Grand old hills sloped down 
 to the shore. Every here and there a pretty little villa 
 peeped from among the trees. There was no town, no 
 regular streets — no place could be imagined more silent or 
 unknown. It was hidden altogether from the great noisy 
 world. 
 
 A nicely furnished house was taken, and the ladies com- 
 fortably established therein. 
 
 “ Will this suit you, Rita?** inquired Mrs. Wy verne, 
 anxiously. “ Nothing could be more tranquil or dull.** 
 
 “ I can not tell you how grateful and pleasant the quiet 
 is to me,** she replied. 
 
 It was a luxury to sit still, and not tremble at every ring 
 of the bell or .step upon the stairs; it was a luxury to walk 
 out in the broad open day, and not fear to meet the man 
 she dreaded at every corner of the road. 
 
 To Daisy it was all a mystery — she could not under- 
 stand so great a change in her sister Rita, whose life was 
 one longing for pleasure and . excitement, to shun every 
 one, and seek quiet. She had never quite understood her 
 foster-sister, who was now more of a mystery than ever. 
 
 i _ — __ 
 
 j 
 
 | CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Ih a few days after their ai rival Rita began to recover 
 herself. The panic of fear and dread that had seized her 
 died away. All now seemed safe and secure. Once mar- 
 ried, she had nothing to fear, and every day brought her 
 marriage nearer. It was not likely Ralph would find her., 
 No matter what any one said, she did not intend to leave 
 
ISO LORD LISLES DAUGHTER. 
 
 Sunbay until a day or two previous to the one fixed for he? 
 marriage. 
 
 She laughed triumphantly to herself. Yes, once more 
 schemes and. maneuvers had prospered; once more fate 
 had played into her hands, and just retribution was de- 
 layed. 
 
 The color returned to her face and the smile to her lips. 
 
 44 This rest is curing you, Rita,” said Mrs. Wyverne. 
 64 Lord Lisle will hardly know you.” 
 
 44 1 do not feel the same,” she replied. 44 1 think com- 
 ing here has saved my life.” 
 
 Nothing happened to disturb her. From London and 
 from Lisle Court, daily, letters told how nearly everything 
 was prepared for Miss Lisle’s marriage. The magnificent 
 jewels were on view at Messrs. Storr & Mortimer’s; the 
 carriages were to be seen at Hewson’s; the trousseau , one 
 of the most exquisite and elaborate ever prepared, was in 
 the hands of Mme. Cerise. 
 
 At Lisle Court all the more modern rooms had been re- 
 furnished in the most recherche and luxurious style. From 
 44 rosy morn until dewy eve ” Rita heard of nothing but 
 the grandeur and luxury prepared for her. 
 
 The wedding-day was fixed for the 13th of August, and 
 it was now the second. Lord Lisle wrote to say that if Rita 
 felt quite recovered, and Mrs. Wyverne would receive him, 
 he should like to spend a few days at Sunbay. 
 
 She could not allege any excuse, neither did she wish to 
 do so. Her marriage would give her the title and position 
 she had longed for; but she valued, even above that, the 
 love of the man she was going to marry. 
 
 She wrote a few lines to Lord Lisle — a few loving words, 
 such as she had never used to him before — saying how 
 pleased she would be to see him. Years afterward, Lord 
 Lisle read those words, and wondered at the love of that 
 ambitious heart for him. 
 
 When he arrived at Sunbay, Mrs. Wyverne was in the 
 
10RD lisle*s daughter. lSl 
 
 house alone. Eita and Daisy had gone out for a ramble 
 on the cliffs, she said, and he had better join them. 
 
 “Philip,” said considerate Mrs. Wy verne, “ will you 
 tell Daisy I want her to write some little notes for me, if 
 she will return home at once?” 
 
 Lord Lisle promised to deliver the message. In the far 
 distance he saw two girls sitting on the height of a tall 
 white cliff. Lord Lisle never forgot the picture. The two 
 faces — so beautiful, yet so unlike— standing out in bold 
 relief against the clear blue sky, the purple heather spread- 
 ing around them, and the waves breaking at their feet. 
 
 He was true. Even then he would not look at the fair, 
 spiritual face and the golden head that drooped sadly as 
 Daisy caught sight of him. He only looked at Eita, whose 
 beauty was heightened by the bright blush that welcomed 
 him. 
 
 After a few words of greeting Lord Lisle delivered his 
 message, and Daisy turned away with a smile. As the 
 house was almost in sight, he did not offer to accompany 
 her, but sat down in the purple heather by Eita*s side. 
 
 “ 1 need not ask if you are better,” he said, gallantly; 
 “ you never looked so well. I imagine your illness was a 
 complete overdose of pleasure, Eita. I am amazed when 
 1 think of all the toil you fashionable ladies undergo. ” 
 
 She made some laughing reply, and then they sat for 
 some minutes in silence, the sunny, smiling sea breaking 
 with a musical murmur at their feet. 
 
 The measure of her content was full. She was safe, and 
 the man she loved better than all the world sat at her side. 
 When Lord Lisle spoke again his voice had changed — there 
 was deep emotion in every tone. 
 
 “Eita,” he said, producing a small morocco case, 
 “ there was one strange omission at the time of our be- 
 trothal. I gave you no ring; I have brought you one now, 
 may 1 place it upon your finger, and will you promise m© 
 never to remove it?” 
 
m 
 
 LORI) LISLE ? S DAUGHTER. 
 
 He never forgot the love that shone in her dark eyes as 
 she raised them to his face. 
 
 44 I will never remove it, Philip/’ she said, gently. 
 44 While you live, in my heart, that ring shall remain upon 
 my hand. ” 
 
 She gave a little cry of pleasure and surprise when he 
 opened the case, and took from it one of the prettiest and 
 most costly rings she had ever seen. It was of pure pale 
 gold; one large diamond of the first water was surrounded 
 by small but magnificent rubies. 
 
 44 I)o you like it?” he asked, gently. 
 
 44 More than any jewel I have,” she replied. 
 
 He took the firm white hand into his own, and placed 
 the ring on her finger. 
 
 44 You will never part with it?” he said. 
 
 44 Never; neither in life nor in death,” she answered. 
 
 He kissed the jeweled hand. 
 
 44 Suppose I am very presumptuous,” he said, 44 and ask 
 for a reward; shall you be very angry?” 
 
 For the first time in her life she raised her face to his, 
 and he touched the lovely, blushing cheek with his lips. 
 
 44 Neither in life nor in death!” he heard her murmur; 
 but he had no clew to her thoughts. 
 
 So they sat through the long, bright summer hours, 
 talking happily of the future that lay unruffled as the sum- 
 mer sea before them. Lord Lisle saw that Pita’s eyes 
 never once quitted the ring. She watched the diamond 
 sparkling and gleaming in the sun. He was touched more 
 than he cared to own by that expression of her face. 
 
 Suddenly he looked at his watch. 44 1 must write to 
 London,” he said. 44 1 promised not to forget. Will you 
 return to the house, Pita, or shall I come back for you — • 
 which would you prefer?” 
 
 44 I have my book with me,” she replied. f,t The cliff is 
 far more pleasant than the house this warm day. When 
 
LORD LlSLE*S DAUGHTER. 153 
 
 you have finished your letter come back for me, if you 
 
 will.” 
 
 Her eyes followed him until he passed out of sight; then 
 they wandered to the ring. 
 
 She opened her book, but never read one word. 
 
 “ How kind he is,” she said to herself; “how noble, 
 how unlike all other men! Ah, 1 wish — how I wish 1 
 could have won him, and have won all that is now mine, 
 without evil or wrong! 1 detest wrong when I look at 
 him!” 
 
 A strong hand was laid upon her shoulder; a hot, fierce 
 grasp held her hands. 
 
 “I have found you!” hissed a low; voice into her ear. 
 “ There is no spot upon earth where you could hide from 
 me.” 
 
 She started to her feet with a cry of more than mortal 
 agony, and stood confronting Ralph Ashton. 
 
 “1 have found you!” he said again, with a sneering 
 laugh. “ You weak, pitiful coward, do you think you can 
 ever deceive me?” Ah, me! — the wild anguish of that 
 face! 
 
 “Ralph!” she said, at length, in a low, hoarse voice, 
 “ have you no pity?” 
 
 “ No,” he replied; “none. 1 have come to claim my 
 wife, and I will have her!” 
 
 “But,” sbe interrupted, faintly, “all that is changed 
 now. Were I still Margaret Rivers such a thing might be 
 possible. You can see as well as myself the impassable 
 distance between you and Miss Lisle.” 
 
 “ There is no distance between us,” he said, with a 
 mocking laugh. “ Rita,” he continued, passionately, 
 “ how can you think circumstances can change such love 
 as mine? Had fortune come to me instead of you, I 
 should have laid it at your feet — crowned you with it — not 
 spurned and despissd you. All words are useless. I am 
 here to claim your promise. Will you be my wife?” 
 
154 tout) LISLE *S LAUGHTER. 
 
 Face to face with danger so long dreaded, her courage 
 rose. 
 
 “ No,” she said, “ never! Ralph, I do not want to 
 quarrel with you, but you must see yourself I could neyer 
 be your wife!” 
 
 44 Is that fair-haired aristocrat who sat here your lover?” 
 he asked, fiercely. 
 
 “ Yes,” she replied, “ he is my lover — Lord Lisle — and 
 I have promised to marry him. There is some one to take 
 my pj,rt, and punish you if you persecute me.” 
 
 He recoiled from her words. “ Good heavens!” he 
 cried; 44 how heartless women are! Four years ago you 
 said you loved me — you gave me sweet words, sweet kisses 
 — your head was pillowed on my breast — you swore you 
 would be my wife! You took my heart from me, and 
 held it in your hands! Now you fling it back to me, and 
 talk of • punishing 9 for that very love you once returned!” 
 
 46 Hush!” she said, with a gesture of queenly dignity. 
 44 Do not ’remind me of my past folly — I regret it!” 
 
 “Folly!” he cried. “Oh, Rita! is it for this I have 
 toiled all these years; is this the welcome you give me? 
 Do you remember that night before 1 left you in the gar- 
 den at Queers Lynne?” 
 
 “ Hush!” she said again, imperiously. “ I will not be 
 reminded of those times; they are nothing to me. Surely, 
 Ralph,” she continued, more gently, “you must see 
 everything is changed. I should lose all my friends, my 
 fortune, my position, everything I value most, if I be- 
 came your wife.” 
 
 “ So your new name, your new friends, your wealth and 
 grandeur are the real barriers between us? I can remove 
 them, Rita!” he said, doggedly. 
 
 A look of startled fear broke the proud calm of her face. 
 
 “ Once, and for the last time,” he said, “ will you keep 
 your promise to me, and be my wife? Answer me!” 
 
 “ Never!” she replied; “ come what may.” 
 
LORD LISLE*S DAUGHTER.' 
 
 mu 
 
 His face grew livid with anger. 
 
 “Without doubt/* he said, “you love the fair-haired 
 stripling who has supplanted me?** 
 
 “ You may as well know the truth/* she said, reckless- 
 ly, “I do love him!** 
 
 “ Then go to him/* he said, hoarsely; “ go and tell him 
 you are a living lie — a false, mean traitress! Tell him you 
 have stolen a name and a birthright — that you are Mar- 
 garet Rivers, and no more Lord Lisle*s daughter than I 
 am! Tell him that, and in his turn he will spurn you!** 
 
 He stopped in the midst of his burning torrent of words, 
 frightened at the white despair that came into her face. 
 
 “ What do you mean?** she asked. “ What can you 
 know of me?** 
 
 “I know all your pretty plot from beginning to end,” 
 he retorted; “ and 1 should never have spoiled it had you 
 been true to me. Even now I will keep your secret if you 
 will be my wife. ** 
 
 She waved him from her with a superb disdain that in- 
 furiated him. 
 
 “ Tell me/* she said; “ what do you mean?** 
 
 He seemed to take a pleasure in looking upon her 
 agonized face. 
 
 “ 1 shall be obliged — much against my will — to revert 
 to those past times that no longer belong to you/* he said, 
 mockingly; “ to that very evening indeed when I bade you 
 farewell, and you took the oath that has so easily been 
 broken.** 
 
 “ Go on!** she said, hoarsely, as he paused. 
 
 “ I asked you for a keepsake, and you gave me an old 
 book. Neither you nor I knew what was fastened in it. ’* 
 
 “ What!** she gasped. “ Do not torture me, Ralph!** 
 
 “ I spare you as I have been spared/* he retorted. “ 1 
 will tell you what was in it; proof of the lie you have told 
 and acted — proofs that the golden-haired girl you have 
 
156 LORD lisle's daughter. 
 
 cheated and betrayed is the rightful daughter of Lord 
 Lisle !** 
 
 Her face could grow no whiter; its pallor was dreadful 
 to witness. The quivering lips could utter no words. 
 
 44 1 will show you/* he continued. 44 Stand where you 
 are. 1 would rather trust to a tiger than to a false wom- 
 an. Seel Do you remember the book?** 
 
 He took from his pocket the volume she had so care- 
 lessly given him that fatal evening. He opened it, and 
 showed her some folded papers lying between the leaves. 
 
 44 1 did not find these until I was far from England/* he 
 said — 44 far out on the deep seas. I little thought then 
 what I held in my hands. Draw nearer, that you may 
 see. ** 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The unhappy girl made one step toward him, her eyes 
 riveted on the papers he held. 
 
 44 See!** cried Ralph Ashton, mockingly; 44 this is the 
 first proof of your lie!** 
 
 He held toward her a portrait, the pictured face of a 
 little child — a sweet, spiritual face, with tender eyes and 
 sensitive lips; golden curls ran over the little head. Un- 
 derneath the portrait was written, in a clear, legible hand, 
 somewhat faded : 
 
 44 The portrait of my dear little Daisy, given to Susan 
 Rivers by her sincere and grateful friend, Margaret.** 
 
 44 There can be no doubt about this, 1 suppose?** said 
 Ralph, sneeringly. 44 This face of the child Daisy here is, 
 as any one can see, the face of the young girl you call 
 Susan Rivers daughter. You do not resemble this por- 
 trait; your hair never was golden, your eyes never blue. 
 You are, perhaps, more beautiful; but you never looked 
 true and guileless as this child does. I have yet another 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 157 
 
 proof. Here is a letter written by Lord Lisle’s wife just 
 before she set sail, it seems, for India. Listen. She says: 
 
 “ ‘ I send my darling’s portrait; it is just like her. 
 May she grow up fair and innocent as she is now. Call 
 her Daisy, nurse, to distinguish her from your own little 
 Eita — the pretty, dark-haired child, who will be a sister to 
 my darling. Do not let her forget me. When you take 
 her in your arms tell her how I loved her— how I used to 
 kiss her golden curls. I have one with me. ’ 
 
 ‘ 4 There is more of it,” continued Ealph, “but you 
 have heard enough. The fair-haired, fair-faced child 
 called Daisy, whose portrait I hold here, is Lord Lisle’s 
 daughter. You can sooner deny the sun that shines in the 
 heavens, or the sea that rolls at your feet, than that.” 
 
 “ I do deny it,” she said, boldly. “ You may do your 
 worst. I deny it all.” 
 
 “ You are clever at plots and plans,” he said; “ others 
 are as skillful as you. You roused a demon when you in- 
 sulted me. I have been to Deepdale. 1 did not betray you, 
 Eita; but there are those living there who still remember 
 the beautiful dark-eyed child of Susan Eivers— -who re- 
 member the strange lady coming and bringing the little 
 Daisy with her. There are plenty who would swear to 
 your identity— and to hers.” 
 
 She clasped her hands with a low cry, and he continued: 
 “ You may brave me and defy me; but, remember, 
 surely as you court inquiry, so surely is your cause lost. 
 The evidence I hold here is too strong, the evidence that 
 can be obtained in Deepdale is stronger still. You will 
 have no chance. You will lose the name, the rank, the 
 position, the fortune you have won — ah! and you will lose 
 that fine lover of yours! Men of that stamp do not wed 
 cheats and liars. How long would his love survive the 
 knowledge of what you have done?” 
 
 Jfot one moment — she knew it; and the truth of his 
 
158 LORD lisle’s daughter. 
 
 words struck her like a sharp sword. The ring he had 
 given her gleamed and glistened in the sun. She laid her 
 lips upon it with a passionate cry. 
 
 “ Now, IJha/’ said Ralph, triumphantly, 44 you see you 
 are utterly and completely in my power. Let us make 
 terms. I do not wish to be hard upon you. I will keep 
 your secret, and you shall keep your home and station if 
 you will marry me. ” 
 
 She made no answer, and he continued eagerly: 
 
 44 It will not be difficult to tell this Lord Lisle that I was 
 your own true love years ago, and that 1 have returned 
 from sea. Tell him you care most for me, and want your 
 freedom. He will give it to you. We can be married 
 then. You are rich enough. The late Lord Lisle left you 
 plenty. We can live upon it. If you refuse to do this — 
 nay, do not turn from me — 1 will go first to your lover, 
 then to the true Miss Lisle, and tell the story of your 
 shame and crime to both. I will make all England ring 
 with your story. I will make your name a by-word and a 
 mockery to all those who have flattered and praised you. 
 4 The would-be Miss Lisle/ shall figure in police reports 
 and in the prison-cell.” 
 
 He stopped, exhausted by his own violence. There 
 came no cry from her pale lips. She crouched upon the 
 ground and hid her face in her hands. 
 
 44 You may think yourself well off/’ he said, 44 if no 
 worse punishment than marrying me comes to you. I am 
 no saint. 1 would do much to win gold and fortune, but 
 I could not have betrayed the living and the dead as you 
 have done. Let me tell you, in all your insolent pride of 
 beauty, passionately as I love you, there are times when I 
 recoil in dismay and loathing at the thought of what you 
 are.” 
 
 She could sink no lower, when he who had looked upon 
 her as a goddess and a queen dared to say this. 
 
 She raised her despairing face to the smiling summer 
 
LORD lisle’s daughter. 159 
 
 sky. Alas! that crime and evil should have marred such 
 
 beauty. 
 
 “ Ralph,” she said, gently, “ do not deal so hardly with 
 me. You have brought me low; have you no mercy for 
 me — no pity? I can not marry you; 1 love Lord Lisle. ” 
 
 “ You can make your choice of the two evils,” he said, 
 carelessly. “ I swear not to alter one word of what I have 
 said!” 
 
 “ Have pity upon me, Ralph!” she moaned. But there 
 was no relenting in his dark, handsome face. He stood 
 over her as she knelt in the purplo heather at his feet, and 
 she saw all pleading was lost upon him. 
 
 “ Give me time, at least?” she said. 
 
 “Yes,” he replied; “you may have time. You want 
 to contrive more plans and schemes, but you can not. 
 You are in my power. I will give you time, but I will not 
 lose sight of you.” 
 
 “We leave here soon,” she cried; and the anguish of 
 her voice almost touched him. 
 
 “ Leave when you will,” he said; “ I shall follow. You 
 may take another week to think of your answer, if you 
 like; but you will not play me false again, for 1 shall not 
 lose sight of you. Tell me where and when to meet you; 
 I will be there. ” 
 
 “We are going to Lisle Court on Thursday,” she said. 
 “ Meet me early on Saturday morning, at seven o’clock, in 
 the park. You shall have my answer then.” 
 
 “ I know beforehand what it will be, my proud, dainty 
 beauty,” he said. “ You will be Mrs. Ralph Ashton, and 
 keep your ill-gotten wealth. You will be my wife, as you 
 swore to be!” 
 
 He bent over her as though to kiss her face, as Philip 
 had done so short a time before. She turned from him 
 with a cry of disgust. 
 
 “You shall pay for that!” he said, fiercely. “Some 
 people would not care to kiss such lying lips.” 
 
160 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 He left her abruptly, going -with quick footsteps down 
 the cliff. 
 
 44 I have humbled her,” he said, with a sneer; 44 she 
 will never pass me by again. Poor Rita! I wish it had all 
 been different!” 
 
 He was gone, and she stood alone in her anguish and 
 shame, alone in her misery, life all wretched, her hopes 
 all blighted. 
 
 44 The hour was cursed,” she said, 44 when I took evil 
 for my good.” 
 
 Philip’s ring was shining upon her finger; his words 
 still sounded in her ears; his caressing touch was still 
 warm upon her face, and she would never hear loving 
 words from him again. He must either loathe her as a 
 traitress and most wicked betrayer of trust, or he must 
 look coldly upon her, believing that she preferred that 
 coarse, savage man to him. Do as she would, Philip was 
 lost to her. 
 
 From the chaos of thought that surged through her 
 brain, that idea was the only one that came clearly to her. 
 Philip was lost to her. The words seemed to be all round 
 her in letters of flame; the sunny sky seemed falling into 
 the smiling sea. A red mist came before her eyes and 
 blinded them. Without cry or sound, she fell as one dead 
 among the purple heather and fragrant grass. 
 
 Lord Lisle finished his letter, and then started out once 
 more to fetch Rita. Mrs. Wy verne met him as he was 
 crossing the hall. 
 
 44 You will have to use a little more expedition over this 
 walk than you did over the first one,” she said, smilingly; 
 44 we keep primitive hours here, Philip. Dinner will be 
 ready at five.” 
 
 He made some light, laughing reply, and hastened on 
 to the cliff. Did his eyes deceive him, or was it only 
 fancy? Lord Lisle felt sure that he saw a man rush 
 hastily from Rita’s side — a dark, handsome man, who 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. lOl 
 
 walked hastily past him, with an angry, heated look upon 
 his face. 
 
 He reached the top of the cliff. He had left Eita not 
 more than an hour since, bright, beautiful, full of hope 
 and love, the diamond in her ring no brighter than the 
 light in her eyes. He found her, white and senselss as one 
 stricken with death, lying crushed and helpless among the 
 purple heather. In one moment he had raised her, and 
 pillowed her head on his breast. 
 
 44 Eita, my darling!" he cried, 44 what is the matter?" 
 
 He kissed the white face over and over again; it seemed 
 to him, then, that she was like some dying, helpless child. 
 
 The dark eyes opened slowly. Ah, me! the world of 
 unutterable woe in their shadowed depths! 
 
 44 Eita," said Lord Lisle, 44 thank Heaven, you are bet- 
 ter! You frightened me. What is the matter — what 
 made you ill?" 
 
 She made no reply, but turned from the kindly, honest 
 face bent over her. 
 
 44 Have you been alarmed?" he asked, eagerly. 44 I 
 thought I saw some great, rough man rushing away. 
 Have you been annoyed in any way?" 
 
 44 No," she said, in a low, quiet voice; 64 1 have been 
 too long in the sun — it has made me faint." 
 
 64 But Mrs. Wy verne told me you were quite strong 
 again," said Lord Lisle, anxiously. 
 
 She looked so weary and distressed that he was at a loss 
 what to think or say. 
 
 44 1 am sure something has happened, Eita," persisted 
 Lord Lisle; 44 a little warm, pleasant sunshine could never 
 affect you in this way. Has that man annoyed you, and 
 you do not like to say so? I feel certain that I saw him 
 speaking to you." 
 
 44 You are mistaken," she said, wearily. 44 Oh, Philip! 
 do not tease me. 1 am tired; take me home." 
 
 He said no more, but a shadow fell over his bright. 
 
162 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 handsome face; he felt something like constraint and sus* 
 picion creep into his heart. ^ 
 
 “Philip/' said Rita, “say nothing to Mrs. Wyverne 
 and Daisy; they tease me, and make themselves unhappy 
 when 1 am ill." 
 
 “ So you never tell them, and let them think you are 
 growing strong?" he said. “ I shall have to take care of 
 you myself. I shall stay here to-morrow and take you to 
 Lisle Court myself. " 
 
 When Rita came down to dinner there was but little 
 trace of her illness. Jewels and dress liid the anxious, 
 trembling heart. Still, Mrs. Wyverne would make what 
 Daisy called a sensation. After dinner she forced Rita to 
 rest upon the little couch Philip' placed near the open 
 window. 
 
 “ Philip may read to you," she said; “ but you must be 
 quiet." 
 
 Daisy played while the sun set over the rippling sea; and 
 the birds sung their evening hymns; and Philip talked to 
 the unhappy girl, whose quivering lips could hardly smile. 
 
 “ You are better now," he said, looking anxiously into 
 her face. “ Ah, Rita! you must be more careful; you are 
 not strong. For my sake you must take care of your- 
 self." 
 
 She could have cried aloud with the intensity of the pain 
 his words caused her, and he could not avoid remarking 
 the strange expression of her features. 
 
 “ Are you not happy, Rita?" he asked, bending over 
 her. “ Does it pain you to think that your life will all be 
 passed with me? Do you not love me, that you look so sad 
 when I speak of our future?" 
 
 “ Love you?" she said, raising her dark eyes to his. 
 “ Yes, Philip; I love you so dearly, so well, that I wish I 
 could die now, with your face looking kindly upon me, and 
 your voice sounding in my ear!" 
 
LORD LISLE^ DAUGHTER. 
 
 163 
 
 CHAPTER XXVL 
 
 The sun shone clear and bright in the midday heavens 
 when the travelers reached Lisle Court. Never had the 
 grand old building looked to greater advantage. Never 
 had the woods and pleasure grounds looked so fair. 
 
 The birds sung gayly in the heart of the deep woods; 
 the summer air thrilled with their melody; brilliant flowers 
 shone from the midst of green foliage. There were not 
 many fairer or more brilliant spots in England than Lisle 
 Court as it looked that bright morning in August. 
 
 It was Mrs. Wy verne's wish that the wedding should 
 take place there. Lord Lisle, too, was pleased with the 
 idea. The preparations for the marriage had been carried 
 on with magnificent disregard of expense. Rita's heart 
 beat high with gratified vanity. Ah, if she could but 
 have thrown the black shadow that haunted her into the 
 background! If she could but for one moment have for- 
 gotten Ralph Ashton, and felt safe! 
 
 Never had the splendor of this grand old home of the 
 Lisles been so dear to her. The sumptuous furniture, the 
 costly pictures, the wonderful array of gold and silver 
 plate, the numerous servants, the comfort and luxury that 
 pervaded the whole establishment — all this, but for Ralph 
 Ashton, might be hers! 
 
 But for him, she, next week, might be enthroned mis- 
 tress and queen— she would be Lady Lisle — every hope and 
 desire of her heart gratified — but for him! 
 
 As she looked with wistful eyes upon the luxuries around 
 her, a deep, deadly hatred rose in her heart against him 
 who would fain deprive her of all. She said to herself 
 that she would rather die a thousand deaths than be his 
 wife. He should never triumph over her. She had found 
 
164 LORD LISLE 5 S LAUGHTER. 
 
 but little time for thinking what her answer would be. 
 She must decide that night. 
 
 Lord Lisle had intended to remain for an hour or two at 
 the Court, then hasten on to London, where a multiplicity 
 of business awaited him. Mrs. Wyverne pressed him to 
 remain for that one night, and he consented to do so. 
 
 The wedding so long talked of was to take place in the 
 following week. All preparations and arrangements had 
 been made for the reception of the young ladies who were 
 to officiate as bride-maids, and the brilliant company of 
 guests invited for the occasion. 
 
 Lisle Court was in a ferment. French cooks, direct 
 from Paris, had been engaged for the occasion; the whole 
 country-side was aroused and interested, and people talked 
 of nothing else. 
 
 “ We shall have one quiet evening / 5 said Daisy, after 
 dinner, “ and even that we ought to be properly grateful 
 for. I am overwhelmed when I think of all the smiling 
 and talking that lies before us . 55 
 
 It might have been a happy evening but for the white, 
 wearied face of Eita. Lord Lisle looked at her in amaze. 
 When she spoke he detected a ring of pain in her voice 
 that astonished him. He saw her lips quiver when she 
 tried to smile, and her hands clasped tightly when the fut- 
 ure, or her marriage, was alluded to. 
 
 She did not look like the happy bride whose every wish 
 was gratified. Pale and sad, with a deep shadow in her 
 dark eyes, what had come over her? Lord Lisle was both 
 grieved and anxious. 
 
 Eita had gone to the large window that looked into the 
 pretty pleasure garden. A large fountain played in the 
 midst of blooming flowers. Blossoms of every hue and 
 shade were there. The western sunbeams lingered over 
 them. She watched the bees and butterflies roaming from 
 leaf to leaf; she watched the tall trees bending their state- 
 ly heads in the evening breeze; she watched the smiling 
 
LORD lisle’s daughter. 165 
 
 heavens, the rippling waters, and the setting sun with de- 
 spair more bitter than death in her heart. 
 
 “ Next week,” she thought, 44 all this would be mine — 
 but for him!” 
 
 She clinched her white fingers at the words 44 but for 
 him.” If he were but dead — no matter how he died, pro- 
 Tided that she was free! 
 
 She started, uttering a low cry, when Lord Lisle sud- 
 denly stood by her side and spoke to her. 
 
 44 It is a beautiful evening,” he said. 64 Are you look- 
 ing at the flowers, Rita? I must tell Jennings you admire 
 them. He always considers this especial piece of ground 
 his chef d’ oeuvre. ” 
 
 She made no reply. The sense of his words had not 
 reached her. Through the tortured heart and brain one 
 idea ran. She must give her answer to-morrow. What 
 should that answer be? 
 
 44 Rita,” said Lord Lisle, gently, 44 despite your feverish 
 attempts at gayety, you seem very unhappy. What is it? 
 Have you any trouble? If so, share it with me. Let 
 there be no secret between us. If you have any sorrow or 
 trial, tell it to me. You know l am your best friend.” 
 
 He looked so noble, so strong and true, that she longed 
 to kneel at his feet and tell him all. Better to meet judg- 
 ment from him than from Ralph Ashton. The impulse 
 was strong upon her, but she resisted it, resolving to fight 
 to the very last, and in that resolve sealing her own fate. 
 
 44 Is there anything/’ continued Lord Lisle, gravely, 
 44 in the arrangements made that does not please you? 
 Have you any wish ungratified? — any desire unful- 
 filled?” 
 
 44 None,” she replied, drearily 44 If I complain of any- 
 thing, it would surely be too much kindness.” 
 
 44 Then you are low-spirited and depressed,” said Philip, 
 taking her hand. 44 Ah, Rita, you have no faith. Your 
 future is not an unknown land, but a sunny, smiling path, 
 
166 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 . 
 
 I can see no trouble for you; you only want rousing and 
 cheering. ” 
 
 Something like a low moan came from her lips. He 
 bent over and kissed her sad face more lovingly than he 
 had ever done before. In after years he was pleased to 
 remember that. He never forgot the '-anguish in her feat- 
 ures as she laid her head passively against his shoulder. 
 
 44 If I might only die now!” she murmured, and he saw 
 that her dark eyes were wet with tears. 
 
 44 Death and you will be strangers for many long years, 
 1 hope,” he said, believing she was depressed and ill. 
 
 But he could not cheer her. She talked to him; there 
 was no music in her voice. How could she either smile or 
 forget, when she knew that Ralph Ashton was keeping his 
 stern watch near the walls of the house, and that early to- 
 morrow morning she must give her answer? 
 
 She endured it until she could bear no more; her energy 
 seemed to fail, her strength gave way. The hands Lord 
 Lisle held in his own were cold as marble. 
 
 64 1 am very tired,” she said. 44 1 must ask you to ex- 
 cuse me. It is your last night here. I am sorry to leave 
 you so early.” 
 
 44 1 can only hope rest may restore you,” said Lord 
 Lisle. 44 If you feel better in the morning, let me see you 
 before I go.” 
 
 How little he thought, as he looked on her beautiful face 
 for the last time, what the morning s.un would see! 
 
 Mrs. Wyverne would go with Rita. Daisy was left alone 
 with Lord Lisle. 
 
 He was troubled and unhappy for some time past. It 
 seemed to him that something more than ill-health affected 
 Rita. In vain he tried to think what it could be. He had 
 anticipated her delight and admiration at the changes and 
 improvements that had taken place; her pleasure at the 
 numerous and costly preparations made in her honor; but 
 she had looked indifferently upon them all, and seemed to 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 16? 
 
 avoid the subject. She looked like anything but a happy 
 bride. 
 
 44 Daisy/ 5 said Lord Lisle, suddenly, 66 you will soon 
 be my sister as well as Rita’s. Do you know, I am very 
 anxious over her? 1 never saw any one so changed. She 
 used to be all animation. Now she looks as though life 
 held no interest for her. Have you remarked it?” 
 
 44 Yes,” said Daisy. 44 Mrs. Wyverne was speaking to 
 me about her last evening. It must be the reaction after 
 all our gayety in London.” 
 
 44 1 wish I could think so,” said Philip. 44 It appears 
 to me that some secret weighs heavily upon her mind. No 
 physical illness could have changed her so. Has she any 
 secrets, Daisy? I am soon to be her husband; I ought to 
 know them.” 
 
 44 What secret can she have?” asked Daisy, startled by 
 his earnest manner. 44 1 know of none. I know of noth- 
 ing that can trouble her. Lord Lisle.” 
 
 44 1 am quite puzzled by her manner,” he continued. 
 44 Why is she so silent, so abstracted, so unlike herself this 
 evening? There is some mystery in it.” 
 
 He little dreamed how soon and how tragically his ques- 
 tion was to be answered and the mystery solved. 
 
 Daisy tried to soothe him — to make him forget both irri- 
 tation and anxiety, but thoughts that he could not put into 
 words haunted Lord Lisle. 
 
 44 1 will see her in the morning,” he said, 44 before I go, 
 and persuade her to trust in me. She was intrusted to 
 me, and I must take care of her.” 
 
 Mrs. Wyverne thought she was doing a kind, motherly 
 action in going with Rita to her room. She knew nothing 
 of the imperative need for rest and thought. It seemed to 
 Rita that she should never be alone. Mrs. Wyverne would 
 talk about her wedding; about the long train of bride- 
 maids, comprising some of the fairest and noblest girls in 
 England; of the grand ceremonial^ and the brilliant com- 
 
168 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DATJ Gif TEE. 
 
 pany — all this while Ralph Ashton stood outsid* the walk 
 keeping watch upon her. 
 
 She talked until the unhappy girl grew desperate. It 
 seemed to her that she .must cry aloud. Mrs, Wyverne 
 noticed the white, quivering face. 
 
 “I will leave you now, Rita/’ she said, gently. “I 
 am talking too much.” 
 
 In after years she was pleased to remember how she had 
 turned back and kissed the young face so white and worn. 
 
 Daisy, too, could not rest until she had been in to see 
 her sister. She threw her arms round her. The last 
 words Rita ever heard from her roseate lips were a bless- 
 ing and a heartfelt prayer. 
 
 She was alone at last, and had time to think what her 
 answer should be. 
 
 . Did ever hatred and love fight again as they fought that 
 night in her heart? Did ever the pure stars shine down 
 upon one so wretched? Look where she would there was 
 no hope. She was hemmed in with toils of her own mak- 
 ing, caught in the fatal web she had woven round herself. 
 If she refused Ralph Ashton and made him desperate, he 
 would go straight to Lord Lisle and tell him all. She 
 knew that he could easily prove the truth of his story. 
 Daisy’s likeness to the Lady Sybella Lisle was one proof in 
 itself. 
 
 What would happen then? Even if she were spared the 
 prison-cell, she would lose everything — name, position, 
 rank, wealth, and Philip. She, who had reigned a haughty 
 and brilliant queen, would be driven forth from the luxu- 
 rious home that sheltered her a penniless outcast, mocked, 
 scorned, despised, and insulted by those who had flattered 
 her — she at whose feet the noblest in the land had offered 
 their homage. 
 
 She could never live and bear it; she could never endure 
 the loss of all she had sinned so deeply to win. 
 
 On the other hand, how could she renounce Philip and 
 
'H)RD LISLES DAUGHTER. 
 
 169 
 
 marry Ralph? Whav excuse could she offer for such a 
 breach of faith? The world she had loved and served so 
 well would disown her. With every preparation made — 
 with guests invited, and the whole ceremony arranged, 
 jfiow could she break off her engagement? Certainly not 
 Tinder the pretext of “ an old lover returned from sea.” 
 How could she present Ralph Ashton to a gentle, refined 
 lady like Mrs. Wyverne? No one would tolerate him. 
 
 True, if she did so and married him, she would still 
 have wealth; the fortune Lord Lisle left her was consider- 
 able; hut it would be worse than useless — it would be poi- 
 soned 6y the continual presence of Ralph Ashton. 
 
 She would never do it. She could never, after the train- 
 ing of these few years, associate with one like Ralph Ash- 
 ton. Ntwer again! Life with him would be living death. 
 
 No! fate must do its worst. She hated him with a 
 deadly, rancorous hatred. She would rather suffer any- 
 thing, she would rather die any death than marry him. 
 He should uot trample upon her ruined hopes and pros- 
 pects. From the wreck of her life he should not rise 
 rich and prosperous. Let him do his worst, she would not 
 marry him. 
 
 The pale glimmer of the stars had died away, and the 
 gray morning light came into her room before she had 
 made her final resolve. It was made at last; her answer 
 was ready. She looked at her watch; it was then nearly 
 four. She was to meet Ralph at seven. There was some 
 little time to rest. 
 
 A solemn hush «nd silence fell over her. Her answer 
 was ready, and she could not foresee what it would cost 
 her. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIL 
 
 Surely the most solemn sleep of all is the sleep of the 
 condemned man j ust before death. The deep repose that 
 
tORD LXSLE^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 m 
 
 fell upon the unhappy girl was not more dreamless or still. 
 There was no more torture of indecision; her answer was 
 ready. 
 
 She slept until the August sun shone full and warm 
 upon her face. Perhaps the most painful moment of her 
 life was that in which she woke. The first rush of mem- 
 ory smote her like a sharp sword. She remembered all — 
 why she had slept, where she was going, and what the day 
 would bring forth. 
 
 It wanted but a few minutes to seven, and she dared not 
 delay, lest, not meeting her, Ealph should come to the 
 house, and an exposure take place before all the servants. 
 
 She still wore the rich dinner-dress and costly jewels 
 that she had put on to please Lord Lisle. She did not 
 stay to remove them. A dark cloak flung over her shoul- 
 ders hid them from view. 
 
 What was it caused her to stand for a few minutes at 
 the door of her room, and look back upon its luxrious 
 quiet as upon a lost home? No thought came to her of 
 the next sleep she would take upon the pretty white bed. 
 
 Gently and noiselessly she went out into the parlor. 
 None of the servants observed her; no one yaw her leave 
 the house, or knew at what hour she had done so. 
 
 The morning was sweet and calm; dew-drops still glit- 
 tered upon the tall trees and the fragrant blossoms. The 
 birds were all awake, singing of the quiet summer beauty 
 around them. From the depths of the wood came the 
 music of rustling leaves and the singing brook. The flow- 
 ers, had raised their bright heads. Nature is never so fair, 
 so smiling, so gracious as in the early hours of the day. 
 
 The beauty of earth and sky brought no gladness to her; 
 the sweet, fresh summer wind raised no cole* on her. feat- 
 ures. The flowers bloomed and the birds song in vain for 
 her. 
 
 She saw Ealph Ashton standing at the stile that led into 
 
LORD LISLES DAUGHTER. 171 
 
 the woods. He smiled at the shudder of hate that she 
 could not repress. 
 
 64 True to your time, Rita,” he said. “ But you always 
 were. If 1 remember rightly, you were often at the tryst- 
 ing-place before me. ” 
 
 She did not speak; she had resolved to hear all he had 
 to say in silence. She would give her answer and take her 
 chance. Never again would she kneel at his feet or ask 
 for his mercy. The beautiful white face was cold and 
 hard. 
 
 “ Let us go into the wood,” said Ralph. “ I mean to 
 have things settled this morning. If we remain here, 
 some of those prying servants may see us, and interrupt 
 what promises to be a very pleasant scene.” 
 
 She followed him into the wood-path, where the tall 
 trees met overhead, and shut out the smiling, merciful 
 heaven. The tall, green grass was wet with dew; pretty 
 wild flowers grew side by side with rare fern leaves. The 
 wind made solemn music among the leafy branches. 
 
 As she looked her last upon the summer skies, and went 
 into the deep shade of the woods, the unhappy girl shiv- 
 ered as one seized with mortal cold. 
 
 “ Not so warm here as in one of my Lord Lisle’s hot- 
 houses,” he said, with a coarse laugh. “Now, Rita, let 
 us have no tragedy airs. I am come for my answer, and I 
 mean to have it. What are you going to do? Will you be 
 my wife?” 
 
 “No!” she said, in clear, steady tones. “I have 
 thought well. I would rather suffer any disgrace, any 
 shame, any torture, any death than be your wife! I have 
 sinned, and I must suffer. I thought to escape — to pros- 
 per in my evil deed— but a Mighty Hand has overtaken 
 me. Do as you will: expose me, betray me, degrade me, 
 rob me of all I value and love, I am still spared the great- 
 est degradation of all — that of becoming jour wife!” 
 
 His face grew livid with passion. Had she seen the fury 
 
172 LOUD LISLE^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 that flamed from bis eyes she would have fled for her life, 
 but her face was turned from him. 
 
 “ That is your answer?” he said, in a low, hissing voice. 
 “ It is my final decision,” she said. 44 Do as you will.” 
 44 You know that I shall go straight to Lord Lisle, and 
 tell him how vile a traitress he has asked to be his wife; 
 that before sunset you will be thrust with ignominy and 
 disdain from a home to which you have never had the 
 slightest right!” 
 
 44 1 have a right,” she said, 46 that you have overlooked. 
 Even supposing you carry out your scheme of vengeance, 
 I shall but change places with my foster-sister. The late 
 Lord Lisle intended to befriend Susan Rivers’ child even 
 as she had befriended his daughter. You will disgrace and 
 degrade me — your power stops there.” 
 
 The fury in his face would have alarmed her, but she 
 never saw it. 
 
 44 Ralph,” she said, 44 in yonder house everything is pre- 
 pared for my wedding. I love rank and luxury; I love 
 Lord Lisle. Make a compact with me. Leave me in 
 peace — leave me to take my own path, and you take yours. 
 1 will make you a rich man — rich beyond your wildest 
 dreams. You gain nothing by disgracing me.” 
 
 44 Yes,” he replied, angrily, 44 1 gain my revenge.” 
 
 44 You refuse, then?” she asked. 
 
 44 1 refuse. I have sworn and you have sworn that you 
 will be my wife. That vow shall be kept!” 
 
 44 Never!” she said, calmly. 44 1 prefer death. 1 have 
 sinned myself, but 1 could never stoop so low as to marry 
 the man who could trade upon a woman’s secret. Do your 
 worst; you can not hurt me much. I will go with you, 
 and look Lord Lisle in the face while you tell your story. 
 I am no coward. When all is done— when your worst 
 vengeance is wreaked unon me — I am the victor — not 
 you.” 
 
LORD lisle’s daughter. 173 
 
 She was frightened then, for he seized her arm with a 
 cruel, hard grasp. 
 
 “ No/* he said, “you shall never conquer — 1 will kill 
 you first. ” 
 
 She looked in the fierce, angry face bent over her. 
 
 “ Ralph!” she said, “ you can not mean it?” 
 
 As she stood there alone in the silent depths of the 
 woods with that fierce, wild man. Captain Darcy^s words 
 flashed across her: “ If ever you want a friend with a true 
 heart and a strong arm, remember me.” 
 
 Ah! if he could but come to save her now! 
 
 “ I do mean it!” he said. “If 1 am mad, you have 
 made me so! You shall not leave this place alive unless 
 you promise to be my wife — to go away with me now and 
 at once!” 
 
 The hapless girl saw something shining in his hands, 
 and turned to fly. There was a rush — a struggle — a sharp, 
 shrill cry — a shot fired — and the deed was done. 
 
 The sun saw it, and still shone on; the smiling heavens 
 did not grow black and angry at the ruthless crime. 
 
 Down in the thick, dew-laden grass, crushing the fra- 
 grant flowers, she fell, her death-like features hidden by the 
 fern leaves. There had been no time to repent — no time 
 to ask for mercy — no time to plead for pardon. 
 
 He stood for one moment stunned by his own act, then 
 he knelt by her side and called her. He raised the white 
 face from the ground and saw death there. 
 
 “ 1 did not mean it,” he gasped — “ I did not mean it! 
 You drove me mad, Rita!” 
 
 Down again fell the dead face, and he turned, with a 
 cry that rang through the silent woods — rang up to the 
 high heavens. He turned and fled. 
 
 Blind with mad fury, glutted revenge, and wounded, 
 outraged love, the air like a red-hot mist around him, he 
 fled from the sight of the dead features that were to haunt 
 him until his last hour. 
 
174 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The birds, scared for a time by the shot, resumed their 
 song; the sunbeams began to pierce the dense foliage and 
 glisten in the dew-drops; the little brook murmured its 
 own story; the flowers gave forth fresh fragrance, all heed- 
 less of the crushed heap of shining silk and gleaming jewels 
 — all heedless of the hair stirred by the summer wind or of 
 the white face hidden by the fern leaves. 
 
 The breakfast-bell rang in Lisle Court. Daisy was the 
 first to descend. Lord Lisle and Mrs. Wyverne soon 
 joined her. 
 
 Philip’s first question was: 
 
 44 Where is Rita?” 
 
 44 She will be down soon, without doubt,” said Mrs. 
 Wyverne. 46 1 have not heard how she is. ” 
 
 44 She promised to see me before I went' away,” said 
 Lord Lisle. 46 1 must go at eleven — it is nearly ten now. 
 We are all late this morning.” 
 
 No Rita came, and Mrs. Wyverne sent one of the foot- 
 men to summon Therese. 
 
 The maid came in, bowing profoundly to Lord Lisle. 
 
 44 How is Miss Lisle this morning?” asked Mrs. Wy- 
 verne. 
 
 44 My lady has not rung yet,” replied the maid. 44 She 
 wished me last night not to disturb her until she rang.” 
 
 44 1 will go,” said Daisy. 44 1 will remind her that Lord 
 Lisle goes at eleven. Do not wait breakfast for me; I 
 shall stay with Rita.” 
 
 Daisy was absent ten minutes or more. She returned 
 looking pale and startled. 
 
 44 Rita has gone out,” she said, slowly. 
 
 Lord Lisle looked relieved. 
 
 44 She is all right, then, I suppose,” he said, 44 and has 
 gone for a pleastat early morning walk.” 
 
 44 It seems strange,” said Mrs. Wyverne. 44 Why did 
 she not ring for Therese?” 
 
 At that moment she caught sight of the maid’s scared 
 
LORD lisle’s daughter. 175 
 
 look as she stood at the door. A sudden presentiment of 
 some great trouble seized her. 
 
 “ What is it, Daisy?” she asked, starting from her seat. 
 
 Daisy went up and threw one arm round her. 
 
 “Do not be frightened,” she said. “ Therese is 
 alarmed. Eita has gone out; but the strangest thing is, 
 her bed has not been slept in, and the things laid ready for 
 her to put on have never been touched.” 
 
 Therese came in. 
 
 “ I can not understand it, madame,” she said to Mrs. 
 Wy verne. “ My lady has not even taken off her jewels or 
 her dinner-dress — 1 can not find them.” 
 
 Mrs. Wy verne turned to Lord Lisle. 
 
 “ Philip, my dear,” she said, “ what is it? See what it 
 means.” 
 
 “It means nothing,” said Lord Lisle, gently. “Eita 
 has in all probability gone out. She is somewhere in the 
 gardens or in the grounds — perhaps even somewhere in the 
 house. Daisy and I will look for her. Therese, stay with 
 Mrs. Wy verne. Not one word of this nonsense before the 
 servants, mind!” 
 
 “ Tell her how she has frightened me,” said the elder 
 lady, in a trembling voice. “ Bring her here quickly.” 
 
 They went to the drawing-room — the library — the state- 
 rooms— they searched the whole house, but there was no 
 sign of Eita. Daisy grew frightened. 
 
 “ It is all nonsense!” said Lord Lisle. “ She is out in 
 the grounds.” 
 
 He called Drayton and Manners, two of the footmen, 
 and told them “ Miss Lisle was in the grounds. Would 
 they go and tell her the breakfast-bell had rung?” 
 
 The men went on their errand. Lord Lisle stood by 
 the library window. Neither Daisy nor he spoke one 
 word. 
 
 The men were absent nearly half an hour. Neither on© 
 nor the other had been able to discover Miss Lisle. 
 
176 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Then, for the first time, Lord Lisle felt alarmed. 
 
 * “Go and tell Mrs. Wyverne, Daisy,” he said. 4 4 Ask 
 her to come up into Rita’s room.” 
 
 They all stood there, helpless and uncertain what to do. 
 Nothing seemed out of place. There was no disarray of 
 jewels or dress; the pretty white morning wrapper, with 
 its crimson ribbons, lay untouched upon the chair. 
 
 46 She has not slept here,” said Mrs. Wyverne; 44 that is 
 certain. Philip, what has become of my child?” 
 
 44 We will soon know,” he replied. 
 
 The great bell in the hall was rung, the men-servants 
 all assembled, and in less than ten minutes they were dis- 
 persed over the grounds, searching for one they would 
 never find in life again. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 44 Are you going with the men?” asked Daisy of Lord 
 Lisle. 
 
 44 Yes,” he replied. 44 There is no journey to London 
 for me this morning. I shall do nothing until we have 
 solved this mystery. It may be all right, but 1 begin to 
 feel doubtful. Go to Mrs. Wyverne, Daisy, and do not 
 leave her. There was a secret, after all, you see, and 
 something tells me that we shall discover it.” 
 
 She saw his pale, stern face, and pitied him. Even 
 should all come right, it was not pleasant to have had all 
 this fright and disturbance over the woman he was to 
 marry. 
 
 Daisy went back to the breakfast-room. The whole 
 house was in commotion. The rumor of Miss Lisle’s dis- 
 appearance had spread among the servants, and they were 
 all in confusion. Mrs. Wyverne was lying back, pale and 
 faint, upon the sofa. 
 
 44 Daisy,” she said, in a trembling voice, 44 tell me the 
 
LORD lisle’s daughter. 177 
 
 worst quickly. This suspense is killing me. Thank 
 Heaven, my dear son did not live to see this day.” 
 
 “ The worst is, that Kita is missing,” the young girl 
 said, gently. 44 Lord Lisle and the men-servants are gone 
 in search of her. All may yet be well.” 
 
 “ Nay,” interrupted the poor lady, 44 my heart tells me 
 differently. Oh, Daisy! if Philip’s surmise be right — if 
 there be any secret or mystery, what shall we do? She 
 has been so strange lately — so unlike herself.” 
 
 Daisy took the trembling hands in her own. She 
 soothed and comforted the grieving, sorrowful lady as no 
 one else could have done. 
 
 44 Whatever it is, we must bear it,” she said. 
 
 So the long, sunny hours of that morning passed, and 
 there came no news of the beloved one lost forever. 
 
 Lord Lisle followed the men into the park. He was be- 
 wildered. They turned to him for directions, and he knew 
 not what to say. The sun shone so brightly, the flowers 
 bloomed, the birds sung — everything was bright and gay. 
 What shadow of sorrow or wrong could fall that beautiful 
 morning? There was not a cloud on the smiling summer 
 sky — not a sign in the clear, perfumed breeze. 
 
 44 Where shall we go, my lord?” asked one of the men. 
 44 Perhaps the young lady has met with an accident while 
 Walking in the park. Shall we go there first?” 
 
 But even as he stood giving his directions, he saw three 
 of the servants running from the stile that led into the 
 woods, white and breathless, calling loudly for help. 
 
 He went to meet them. Jennings, the footman who 
 usually waited upon Miss Lisle, came first. 
 
 44 My lord,” he said, 44 1 am afraid there is something 
 wrong in the woods. Something is lying there we dare not 
 touch. Will you come?” 
 
 They went all together, leaving the bright, warm sun* 
 shine, and going into the cool, deep shade of the woods. 
 The birds were singing in the hearts of the tall treea 
 
178 
 
 LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Something— a confused mass of shining silk— lay in the 
 long,*thick grass. The wind played with a mass of black, 
 rippling hair. 
 
 They drew near with hushed breath. One round, white 
 arm, clasped by a diamond bracelet, lay still and cold on 
 the silken robes. Lord Lisle knew what lay there when 
 he saw that. 
 
 i The men drew back as he went to the quiet figure. He 
 parted the mass of fern leaves, and raised the face, beauti- 
 ful and still in death. 
 
 There was a loud cry of grief and horror; but he knelt 
 in silence, lifting the prostrate figure, and raising the head. 
 
 As he did so, he caught sight of the fatal pistol. 
 
 “ Oh, dreadful deed!" he cried. “ She has been mur- 
 dered — shot! Who can have done this? Run, Jennings, 
 Martin! Get out the swiftest horses! Fly for your lives! 
 Fetch the nearest doctor, and telegraph for more!" 
 
 44 It is all useless, my lord," said the butler. “The 
 poor lady has been dead for hours — shot through the 
 heart." 
 
 He saw it was all in vain. A deep sob broke from his 
 lips as he tenderly covered the white face. He did not 
 think how she came by her death. He only felt the 
 bright, beautiful girl, who loved him so dearly — who 
 was soon to be his wife — lay before him dead. 
 
 The men went back for awhile; they would not intrude 
 upon their young lord's sorrow. The pitiful sight hidden 
 by the fern leaves brought tears into many eyes. 
 
 They made a rude litter of twisted branches, and then 
 Lord Lisle, rising from the dead girl's side, turned to 
 them. 
 
 46 My men," he said, “ we will carry her home — back 
 to the house where, in a few days' time, she was to have 
 been married — where all her bridal splendor awaits her; 
 then we will hunt the world through to find the one who 
 did the deed," 
 
LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 179 
 
 There was a murmur of hate and execration. The mur- 
 derer would have fared badly had he fallen into the hands 
 of those angry men. They then gently raised the silent 
 figure and laid it on* the litter, while kindly hands folded 
 the silken robes around her. 
 
 Surely the summer sun never shone upon so sad a sight. 
 The bright beauty of all around seemed a cruel mockery. 
 They went through the park, where she never more would 
 tread, and carried their sorrowful burden to the Hall. 
 
 “Be cautious,” said Lord Lisle. “Do not let the 
 ladies know.” 
 
 In silence they carried her up the broad marble staircase 
 decorated for her wedding, into the room she had that 
 morning left. In silence and tears they laid her upon the 
 bed where so lately her wearied head had lain. They left 
 some to watch in the darkened room, and then Lord Lisle 
 went down to seek those who waited for him so anxiously. 
 
 Mrs. Wy verne started up at his entrance. 
 
 “ Philip,” she cried, “ have you found her?” 
 
 “ Yes,” said Lord Lisle, sorrowfully; “we have found 
 her.” 
 
 “ Where, and how?” she asked. 
 
 But when he sat down by her side, and tried to tell her, 
 his courage and strength gave way. Lord Lisle buried his 
 face in his hands, and wept aloud. 
 
 He told them at last, holding their hands in his, and 
 begging them, for Heaven’s sake, to bear it well. Daisy’s 
 scream of horror rang in his ear for days afterward. Mrs. 
 Wyverne looked as though she would die from the shock. 
 
 “ Who can have done it?” cried Daisy, beside herself 
 with grief. “ My sister had no enemy; she never did any 
 one wrong or harm.” 
 
 “ She had a secret in her life,” said Lord Lisle— “ some 
 secret that has cost her dear. Paul, the head gardener, 
 who has just returned from Thornton, tells me he saw 
 Miss Lisle cross the park this morning with a tall, dark 
 
180 
 
 lorl Bible's daeghter. 
 
 man. He paid no particular attention to him, believing 
 him to be a visitor. Eely upon it, that man is her mur- 
 derer. Who was he, Daisy, and what had he to do with 
 your sister, who was to have been my wife?” 
 
 They went up to the room where weeping attendants 
 watched their dead lady. We leave them there — grief is 
 sacred, and their sorrow was no light one. 
 
 Lord Lisle took no rest; the whole country-side was 
 roused to search for the perpetrator of the dark deed; the 
 news ran like wildfire, and created a sensation that was 
 never equaled. 
 
 “ The beautiful Miss Lisle, who was to have been mar- 
 ried next week, had been found dead, shot through the 
 heart.” 
 
 Lord Lisle telegraphed to London for the first detectives 
 in the city to be sent down at once. They came; the 
 neighboring gentry all joined in the search; a reward of 
 two thousand pounds was offered by Lord Lisle; govern- 
 ment offered two hundred more; but all seemed vain. 
 There was no clew, no trace, no sign of the assassin. 
 
 A few days passed in mourning and gloom that no words 
 can describe. An inquest was held at the Hall, but no 
 evidence could be procured which threw any light upon the 
 most mysterious murder of modern times. The pistol 
 found near the spot bore neither mark nor name; still, the 
 detectives hoped to obtain some clew from it. 
 
 All England rang with the news. People who had seen 
 Miss Lisle in all the splendor of her beauty, could hardly 
 credit the fact. Never was anything so sad; young, love- 
 ly, wealthy, about to be married to a man she loved. 
 Popular indignation was aroused as it had seldom been 
 before. 
 
 The day came when all that was mortal of the erring, 
 unhappy girl was hidden forever from the sight of men. 
 With all her grand beauty, her glaring faults, Margaret 
 Rivers passed away, and her place knew her no more. 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 181 
 
 There never was a sight to equal that funeral proces- 
 sion; the guests invited for the wedding came to do more 
 honor to it. The bells that should have rung out a merry 
 peal for her marriage tolled for her death. Those who 
 saw it will never forget it. They will never forget the 
 aged lady whose tears and sighs moved all hearts; the 
 golden-haired sister whose sweet face was, perhaps, the 
 saddest sight of all; or the pale, sorrow-stricken mourner 
 who was so soon to have been the husband of Margaret 
 Eivers. 
 
 They laid her to rest in the old family vault in the 
 pretty green church-yard of Thornton, The sun shines 
 over her grave, flowers bloom near it, and birds sing round 
 it. She, with all her faults and sins, her sorrows and 
 fears, will rest well until all earthly rest be ended in this 
 world. 
 
 It was the evening of the day of the funeral. The 
 guests had all departed; the confusion was all over, and a 
 somber quiet had fallen upon Lisle Court. 
 
 Mrs. Wy verne sat in her own room; Daisy was with 
 her. Although the day was warm a fire burned in the 
 grate; the chill of sorrow had taken possession of the poor 
 lady. Daisy, in her deep mourning-dress sat by her side, 
 trying to forget her own sorrows in soothing that of others. 
 
 Lord Lisle was alone in the library^ wearied and exhaust- 
 ed by the horror and misery he had passed through, unable 
 to read, to write or to do anything, save think of the 
 scenes he would have given worlds to forget. 
 
 It was not yet dark; but he had drawn the blinds, ’ 
 unable to endure the sight of the summer sun. 
 
 The butler came in to say that a man requested to see 
 his lordship on very important business. 
 
 “ I can not see him to-night, Martin," said Lord Lisle, 
 wearily; “lam tired and ill." 
 
 “ So I told him, my lord," was the reply; “ but he im- 
 plored me so earnestly to ask your lordship for an inter- 
 
m 
 
 LOUD LISLE^S DAtGUTEk. 
 
 view 1 could not refuse. His manner is so strange, my 
 lord, I can not help thinking he has something of vital 
 importance to communicate.” 
 
 “ What kind of man is he?” asked Lord Lisle. 
 
 “ Tall and dark, my lord; with a strange, wild face — 
 fierce and handsome.” 
 
 As the man said the words there suddenly flashed across 
 Lord Lisle the remembrance of the man whom he had seen 
 speaking to Rita on the cliff at Suubay. .Could it be the 
 same, and had he come to tell the secret that belonged to 
 her? 
 
 ‘‘Show him up,” said Lord Lisle; “and, Martin, see 
 that some of the men are at hand to answer the bell.” 
 
 It was the same — Lord Lisle knew him at a glance — the 
 same man who had rushed past him that day on the cliff. 
 
 The butler withdrew and closed the door behind him. 
 Then Lord Lisle, looking in the man’s face, found it 
 white, worn, and wild, as though rest, sleep, and peace 
 were strangers to him. He came near the table, and Philip 
 saw that his hands trembled and his lips quivered. 
 
 “ Sit down,” said Lord Lisle, kindly: “ you look ill.” 
 
 The man took no heed of his words. 
 
 “ My lord,” he said, suddenly, “ my name is Ralph 
 Ashton. The girl who has been buried to-day, who was 
 to have been your wife next week^ was my promised wife 
 four years ago — bound to me by every tie — bound to me 
 by love so passionate, by an oath so solemn, nothing could 
 break it. 
 
 “You may look at me, my lord; but my words are 
 true; she was mine, and I loved her — ah, what words can 
 tell how! The ground whereon she stood was precious to 
 me; I worshiped her; I was. her slave. She said she loved 
 me. She gave me sweet kisses, sweet words, and loving 
 looks. When I went away to sea she swore to be true 
 until I returned, and then to be my wife. 
 
 “ When 1 returned she was gone — she had tried to pro- 
 
LOUT) LISTENS DAUGHTER. 
 
 rent me from knowing where. I sought her— found her. 
 She flung my love back with scornful words; she roused 
 all the pride and anger in me. I was a man; she turned 
 me into a deviL” 
 
 “ Why tell me all this?” interrupted Lord Lisle. 5 Let 
 the poor girl's faults be buried with her.” 
 
 “ You must hear it!” he cried; “it concerns you most 
 of all. I meant to keep her secret; but, it seems to me, if 
 her soul is to rest justice must be done.” 
 
 He drew a packet of papers from his pocket. 
 
 “ There, my lord,” he said; 44 look at these. You will 
 find from them that the girl who lies in Thornton Church- 
 yard duped you as she duped me; deceived and tricked 
 you as she did me. She was not the late Lord Lisle's 
 daughter, she was the child of Susan Rivers. The fair- 
 haired girl she called her sister is Miss Lisle. Look at 
 these papers and let justice be done.” 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Too bewildered for words. Lord Lisle opened the packet 
 before him ; from it there fell a picture. He raised it, and 
 saw before him Daisy's face; the sweet, spiritual face, the 
 tender violet eyes and golden curls of a little child. He 
 recognized it in one moment; then he read the words writ- 
 ten in Margaret Wy verne's hand. 
 
 Like one in a dream he opened the letters and read the 
 passages where the young mother spoke lovingly of her 
 little Daisy's golden curls. Proof was heaped upon proof. 
 
 4 4 The strongest proof of all,” continued Ralph Ashton, . 
 in the same constrained, passionless voice, 44 is the fact of 
 her death. She never denied the charge — never. She 
 told me she would rather brave the disclosure than be my 
 wife. If you want further evidence, my lord, go to Deep- 
 dale; there are people there who can swear that this is the 
 portrait of the child brought by the strange young lady to 
 
184 LOUD lisle's daughter. 
 
 Susan Rivers. They will swear that the dark-eyed, dark- 
 haired girl called Rita was Susan Rivers’ own child.” 
 
 44 This was her secret then/’ murmured Lord Lisle j 
 44 poor, unhappy girl!” 
 
 44 That was her secret, my lord,” replied the man. 
 64 That you may be sure I am not slandering the dead, 1 
 bring you the letters 1 received from her some weeks since 
 in London. You know her writing — read these. ” 
 
 He read the letters composed with such skillful art. 
 There could be no doubt about- them; at the very time she 
 was his promised wife she had corresponded with this man. 
 
 Lord Lisle leaned back in his chair, stunned, unable to 
 think or speak. 
 
 44 She always loved riches and grandeur,” continued 
 Ralph Ashton. 44 She was very beautiful, and she longed 
 for dresses and jewels to set off her beauty. She loved 
 luxury and wealth. I can imagine how it was all done, 
 my lord. The rightful Miss Lisle was away from home 
 when Susan Rivers came to die. She must have trusted 
 the secret to her own child, who used it for her own pur- 
 poses. Let justice be done, my lord,” he continued. 
 44 Let the true Miss Lisle take her place.” 
 
 44 1 will place the whole matter in the hands of a skill- 
 ful lawyer. We must have legal as well as moral proof,” 
 said Lord Lisle. 
 
 44 So be it,” replied Ralph Ashton. 44 If inquiry is 
 made there is no fear. Miss Lisle will have her own.” 
 
 As Lord Lisle sat listening to the strange voice, details 
 long forgotten, words and actions he had thought strange 
 — all rushed up through his mind; each one corroborated 
 the story he had heard. All that seemed a mystery to 
 him was clear now. 
 
 Ralph Ashton told the whole story, from the meeting 
 with Rita until that morning when she had met him for 
 the last time, and said she preferred death to becoming his 
 wife. 
 
LORD LISLE* S daughter. IBS 
 
 He stopped then, and his lips, dry and parched, trem- 
 bled convulsively. 
 
 44 There remains but one thing more, my lord, to be 
 discussed, and that is the murder. They tell me you 
 have clever detectives here from London. Will you be 
 pleased to let me see one?” 
 
 Lord Lisle rang the bell, and in a few minutes Mr. 
 Grey, from Scotland Yard, entered the room. 
 
 Ealph Ashton stood up before him. 
 
 44 You are a police officer?” he asked. 
 
 44 1 am,” replied the detective, quietly. 
 
 44 1 surrender myself to you,” he said, 44 for the murder 
 of Margaret Kivers! I shot her through the heart! I 
 killed her; but I swear I never meant it. She insulted 
 me, maddened me, and I fired!” 
 
 A cry of rage and horror came from Lord Lisle. He 
 started from his chair. 
 
 44 Nay, my lord,” said the detective, interposing. 
 44 Let the law take its course.” 
 
 44 Ah!” said Ealph, 44 let the law take its course, my 
 lord. I am not worth your anger. See, my hands trem- 
 ble, and my limbs fail — not from fear. Since she fell 
 dead, and I saw her face, 1' haven’t slept, eaten, or rested. 
 There will be little left for the law to do, my lord. Let 
 it be carried out. Let Heaven judge who is more to 
 blame — the woman who deceived and maddened me, or I 
 who struck her down in the heat of passion and wrath. 
 Let the All-seeing Power above judge. 1 have done with 
 men!” 
 
 44 Eemove him!” said Lord Lisle. 44 May God have 
 mercy on him!” 
 
 He was led away, and Lord Lisle never saw the man 
 again. Before the time for the trial came, Ealph Ashton 
 died. From the evening he gave himself up, he had never' 
 one sensible moment. He died of brain fever; and even 
 
186 liORD LISLE^S DAtJGMtfEifc. 
 
 those he had most deeply sinned against were glad that it 
 was so. 
 
 His confession of the crime was published without nam- 
 ing the motives that led to it. Most people believed him 
 to have been mad, or to have slain the unhappy girl for 
 plunder. Beyond the few members of the family, no one 
 ever heard the tragic love story of Ralph Ashton. 
 
 Lord Lisle sat for some time in silence. He was over- 
 whelmed by the discovery. No shadow of doubt rested on 
 his mind of its truth. He remembered the picture of Lady 
 Sybella Lisle, and Daisy’s perfect resemblance to that fair 
 and noble lady. He remembered .a thousand trifles, 
 “ light as air,-’ yet each bearing a strong confirmation of 
 the truth of the unhappy man’s story. 
 
 A task lay before him — the news had to be told to Daisy 
 and Mrs. Wy verne. He sent to ask if he could be re- 
 ceived, and the answer was “ Yes.” 
 
 Lord Lisle never remembered all the details of that 
 scene. Daisy’s tears and sobs; her mingled joy and sor- 
 row; her grief for the unhappy girl who had betrayed her; 
 her unavailing regret that her father had not known the 
 truth before he died. 
 
 Her only comfort was that he had loved her so well, and 
 had died in her arms. 
 
 “ It was strange,” said Philip, “ how Lord Lisle loved 
 you. Daisy, nature does speak, after all.” 
 
 She shed tears over the faded letters of her mother. 
 
 “I never forgot her,” she said. “I dreamed of her 
 continually; and the face that bends over me in my sleep 
 is the same that hangs in my dear father’s room. 1 felt 
 there was something strange, yet 1 never dreamed of this. 
 You must spare her, Lord Lisle — we must bury her faults 
 in silence.” 
 
 “Justice must be done to you,” said Philip, “and 
 speedily, too.” 
 
 But, in her sweet, persuasive way, she pleaded for pity 
 
£6M) LISLE^S DAUGHTEE. 18 ? 
 
 and mercy for the one who was beyond all praise or blame; 
 and Lord Lisle promised to spare her memory and shield 
 her as far as possible. 
 
 Skillful lawyers were engaged; the case was well sifted. 
 Lord Lisle, Daisy, and Mrs. Wy verne went to Deepdale. 
 There all legal doubt ended. Many there were who swore 
 that the little child brought by the strange lady to Susan 
 Eivers was no other than Daisy. They recognized her. 
 Every shadow of doubt was cleared np. Lord Lisle’s 
 daughter was found at last. 
 
 A somewhat garbled statement of the case went abroad, 
 telling that a mistake, now rectified, had been made, leav- 
 ing every one who read it quite undecided as to whether 
 the detective who managed the business or the late Lord 
 Lisle was most to blame. No one understood it clearly — 
 it was a nine-days’ wonder, and then died away, some peo- 
 ple thinking it as well that the mistake was not discovered 
 until after the death of her who had been 46 Miss Lisle.” 
 
 Lord Lisle, with great pomp and ceremony, introduced 
 Daisy, even as Eita had been introduced before her, to all 
 the dependents and tenants of Lisle Court as the rightful 
 daughter of their late lord. He said a mistake had arisen 
 over the identity of the young ladies, both brought up 
 together, and that circumstances had arisen which ex- 
 plained the error. 
 
 She might have been proud of the devotion and homage 
 offered to her, for Daisy’s gentle rule had won esteem and 
 liking from all. 
 
 They welcomed their young mistress most warmly; but 
 Daisy’s greatest comfort was that Eita’s name had been 
 spared. 
 
 Then, by Lord Lisle’s advice, the two ladies went abroad 
 — it was better, he thought; the story would die away; and 
 in his own heart he resolved that, if prayers and love could 
 win her, Daisy should return to England as Lady Lisle, 
 
188 
 
 LORD LISLE $ S DAUGHTER. 
 
 They went to Italy. Lord Lisle joined a party of 
 friends who were about “ doing Egypt and the Pyramids.” 
 
 During his absence the steward had orders for great 
 alterations at Lisle Court. That part of the wood where 
 the fatal tragedy had taken place was to be destroyed, the 
 trees cut down, and the ground cultivated. The rooms 
 used by the unhappy girl were dismantled and left empty 
 — everything that had belonged to her was given away. 
 The splendid portrait, painted with such exquisite skill, 
 was placed in an old lumber-room. No one could bear 
 either to look upon or destroy the beautiful dark face 
 glowing there. 
 
 % ^ ^ % 4 : % ^ 
 
 Three years passed away, and the desire of Lord Lisle’s 
 heart was gratified. He wooed and won the lovely, gentle 
 girl he had loved so long and so well. 
 
 They returned to Lisle Court, and the whole country- 
 side seemed aroused to welcome them. Lady Lisle was 
 presented at Court, where her delicate beauty and grace 
 made her a great favorite. 
 
 She was loved and admired as Rita had never been. 
 Her influence was that of a good and noble woman. The 
 frivolities of fashion did not engross her; gayely did not 
 absorb her whole time and attention. Lord Lisle never 
 knew his own power and capabilities of doing good until 
 his young wife taught him some of the high and holy les- 
 sons she had long learned. 
 
 They went once to see Rita’s grave — a plain slab of 
 white marble. It told the truth, for it said that 6 6 Mar- 
 garet Rivers ” slept there. 
 
 Years afterward a man, bearing upon his face the marks 
 of long travel, came there. Captain Darcy never forgot 
 the beautiful, brilliant girl he had loved so passionately. 
 The cruel story of her murder came to him over the In- 
 dian seas; and then he heard that she was not Lord Lisle's 
 
LORD LISLE'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 189 
 
 daughter. It made no difference to him. The first spot 
 he visited in England was Rita's grave. 
 
 Had she been living, he would gladly have laid th© 
 honors he had won at her feet; every hope and wish, all 
 the love of his heart, was buried with her. Captain Darcy 
 lived his life bravely and well, but it had no more of joy 
 or brightness for him. 
 
 * * ❖ * * Jfs 
 
 One beautiful evening in June a pretty little group was 
 on the lawn of Lisle Court. A lady with golden hair sat 
 at the feet of Mrs. Wyverne, now grown old and feeble. 
 Lord Lisle lay on the grass near them, enjoying at one 
 and the same time the flavor of a cigar and the gambols 
 of his children. 
 
 “Daisy," said Lord Lisle, turning to his wife, “that 
 eldest boy of yours is about the greatest tease I ever saw. 
 Come here, little Pearl. What has he done to you?" 
 
 A noble boy, with his father's laughing eyes, brought 
 his sister by the hand. 
 
 44 I have done nothing to her, papa," he said. “ Boys 
 do not fight little girls. She cried because I threw a stone 
 at her doll." 
 
 Lord Lisle took his young heir in his arms and gave him 
 a lecture on the value of kindliness. 
 
 The child nestled in his father's arms and listened pa- 
 tiently. 
 
 44 Papa," he cried, suddenly, 44 I went with Jennings to- 
 day into some of those empty rooms in the western wing. 
 I saw the picture of a lady with such a beautiful face. 
 Jennings said I must never tell you I had seen it. Who 
 was she, papa?" 
 
 At the singular, childish question, a shade of sorrow fell 
 over the fair face of Lady Lisle. Her husband looked at 
 her, and gave a deep sigh. 
 
 4 4 It was some one we knew long since," he said, gently 
 gome one who was very unhappy, and who died?" 
 
190 
 
 LORD LISLE’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Lord and Lady Lisle never told to their children the 
 story of the unhappy girl who for so short a time had 
 borne their name. They never forgot her, even on that 
 bright June evening, when the sun shone upon the bloom- 
 ing flowers, when, the birds sung gayly, and the rippling 
 w r aters of the pretty fountains told of the fair summer, 
 when the air, full of fragrance, whispered of youth, love, 
 and happiness — even then her memory fell upon them like 
 the shadow of a passing cloud. 
 
 Lisle Court is a happy home now. Fair children bloom 
 there; Lord Lisle is beloved and esteemed by all who know 
 him. Earth seems to have lavished her most precious 
 treasures, Heaven its choicest gifts, upon Lord Lisle’s 
 daughter. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 ] 
 
 I