Daisy Brooks; Or, A Perilous LoveLibbey, Laura Jean
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Daisy Brooks; Or, A Perilous Love
Libbey, Laura Jean
Adventure stories; Dime novels; Fiction; Love stories
DAISY BROOKS;
Or,
A Perilous Love.
by
LAURA JEAN LIBBEY,
Author of
"Parted on Her Bridal Tour," or "Miss Middleton's Lover,"
"When His Love Grew Cold," "He Loved, But Was Lured Away,"
"When Lovely Maiden Stoops to Folly," "The Crime of Hallow E'en,"
"Lovers Once, But Strangers Now," Etc., Etc.
Copyright 1883, by George Munro.
Copyright 1911, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company.
Dramatic Rights Reserved by Laura Jean Libbey-Stillwell.
New York:
J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company,
57 Rose Street.
DAISY BROOKS.
CHAPTER I.
A warm day in the southern part of West Virginia was fast drawing to a
close; the heat during the day had been almost intolerable under the
rays of the piercing sun, and the night was coming on in sullen
sultriness. No breath of cooling air stirred the leafy branches of the
trees; the stillness was broken only by the chirping of the crickets,
and the fire-flies twinkled for a moment, and were then lost to sight
in the long grasses.
On one of the most prosperous plantations in that section of the
country there was a great stir of excitement; the master, Basil
Hurlhurst, was momentarily expected home with his bride. The negroes
in their best attire were scattered in anxious groups here and there,
watching eagerly for the first approach of their master's carriage on
the white pebbled road.
The curtains of Whitestone Hall were looped back, and a cheerful flood
of light shone out on the waving cotton fields that stretched out as
far as the eye could reach, like a field of snow. The last touches had
been given to the pillars of roses that filled every available nook
and corner, making the summer air redolent with their odorous
perfumes. Mrs. Corliss, who had maintained the position of housekeeper
for a score of years or more, stood at the window twisting the
telegram she held in her hand with ill-concealed impatience. The
announcement of this home-coming had been as unexpected as the news of
his marriage had been quite a year before.
"Let there be no guests assembled--my reasons will be made apparent to
you later on," so read the telegram, which puzzled the housekeeper
more than she cared to admit to the inquisitive maid, who stood near
her, curiously watching her thoughtful face.
"'Pears to me it will rain afore they get here, Hagar," she said,
nervously, and, as if in confirmation of her words, a few rain-drops
splashed against the window-pane.
Both stood gazing intently out into the darkness. The storm had now
commenced in earnest. The great trees bent to and fro like reeds
before the wind; the lightning flashed, and the terrific crash of
roaring thunder mingled with the torrent of rain that beat furiously
against the casement. It seemed as if the very flood-gates of heaven
were flung open wide on this memorable night of the master's return.
"It is a fearful night. Ah! happy is the bride upon whose home-coming
the sunlight falls," muttered Mrs. Corliss under her breath.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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