"Suppose that, by exercise of any power you think you possess, you could really compel me to be your wife, do you think it would benefit you? I would learn to despise you. What would you gain by it?" The answer sprung quickly to his lips: "The one great point for which I am striving--possession of Whitestone Hall;" but he was too diplomatic to utter the words. She saw a lurid light in his eyes. "You shall be my wife," he said, gloomily. "If you have been cherishing any hope of winning Rex Lyon, abandon it at once. As a last resort, I would explain to him how cleverly you removed the pretty little girl he loved from his path." "You dare not!" she cried, white to the very lips. "You have forgotten your own share in that little affair. Who would believe you acted upon a woman's bidding? You would soon be called to account for it. You forget that little circumstance, Lester; you dare not go to Rex!" He knew what she said was perfectly true. He had not intended going to Rex; he knew it would be as much as his life was worth to encounter him. He was aware his name had been coupled with Daisy's in the journals which had described her tragic death. He knew Rex had fallen madly, desperately in love with little Daisy Brooks, but he did not dream he had made her his wife. "You have not given me time to explain why I am here." "I have heard all about it," he answered, impatiently; "but I do not understand why they sent for you." "Mrs. Lyon requested it," she replied, quietly. "Rex simply obeyed her wishes." "Perhaps she looked upon you as her future daughter-in-law," sneered Lester, covertly. "I have followed you to Florida to prevent it; I would follow you to the ends of the earth to prevent it! A promise to me can not be lightly broken." Not a feature of that proud face quivered to betray the sharp spasm of fear that darted through her heart. "You should have waited until you had cause to reproach me, Lester," she said, drawing her wrap closer about her and shivering as if with cold. "I must go back to the house now; some one might miss me." He made no reply. The wind bent the reeds, and the waves of the sea dashed up on the distant beach with a long, low wash. He was wondering how far she was to be trusted. "You may have perfect confidence in me, Lester," she said; "my word ought to be sufficient," as if quite divining his thoughts. "You need have no fear; I will be true to you."