He could not doubt the truth of the statement Stanwick offered, and the absolute proofs of its sincerity. He could not curse her for her horrible deceit, because his mother had loved her so, and it was done through her blinding, passionate love for him; and he buried his face in his hands, and wept bitterly. It was all clear as noonday to him now why Daisy had not kept the tryst under the magnolia-tree, and the cottage was empty. She must certainly have attempted to make her escape from the school in which they placed her to come back to his arms. "Oh, dupe that I have been!" he moaned. "Oh, my sweet little innocent darling!" he cried. "I dare not hope Heaven has spared you to me!" Now he understood why he had felt such a terrible aversion to Pluma all along. She had separated him from his beautiful, golden-haired child-bride. His eyes rested on the certificate which bore Pluma's name, also his own. He tore it into a thousand shreds. "It is all over between us now," he cried. "Even if Daisy were dead, I could never take the viper to my bosom that has dealt me such a death-stinging blow. If living, I shall search the world over till I find her; if dead, I shall consecrate my life to the memory of my darling, my pure, little, injured _only_ love." He heard a low rap at the door. The servant never forgot the young man's haggard, hopeless face as he delivered Basil Hurlhurst's message. "Ah, it is better so," cried Rex to himself, vehemently, as the man silently and wonderingly closed the door. "I will go to him at once, and tell him I shall never marry his daughter. Heaven help me! I will tell him all." Hastily catching up the letter, Rex walked, with a firm, quick tread, toward the study, in which the strangest tragedy which was ever enacted was about to transpire. * * * * * "I am your mother, Pluma," repeated the woman, slowly. "Look into my face, and you will see every lineament of your own mirrored there. But for me you would never have enjoyed the luxuries of Whitestone Hall, and this is the way you repay me! Is there no natural instinct in your heart that tells you you are standing in your mother's presence?" "Every instinct in my heart tells me you are a vile impostor, woman. I wonder that you dare intimate such a thing. You are certainly an escaped lunatic. My mother was lost at sea long years ago." "So every one believed. But my very presence here is proof positive such was not the case." Pluma tried to speak, but no sound issued from her white lips. The very tone of the woman's voice carried positive conviction with it. A dim realization was stealing over her that this woman's face, and the peculiar tone of her voice, were strangely mixed up with her childhood dreams; and, try as she would to scoff at the idea, it seemed to be gaining strength with every moment.