"You have no right to keep me here," panted Daisy. "I am--I am--" The words died away on her lips. Rex had told her she must not tell just yet. "You are a rash little fool," cried Septima, wrathfully. "You are the bane of my life, and have been ever since that stormy winter night John brought you here. I told him then to wash his hands of the whole matter; you would grow up a willful, impetuous minx, and turn out at last like your mother." Daisy sprung to her feet like lightning, her velvet eyes blazing, her breath coming quick and hot. "Speak of me as lightly as you will, Aunt Septima," she cried, "but you must spare my poor mother's name! Oh, mother, mother!" she cried, flinging herself down on her knees, and sobbing piteously, "if you had only taken me with you, down into the dark cruel waters!" "I only wish to Heaven she had!" fervently ejaculated Septima. At that moment a quick, hurried step sounded on the gravel path without, and John Brooks hastily entered the room. "Ah! thank God! here you are, Daisy. I was over at the Hall for you, and they told me you had left some hours before. I knew you had not been home, and I was sorely afraid something had happened you." Ah! how little he knew! Something had happened to her, the darkest and cruelest shadow that had ever darkened a girl's life was slowly gathering above her innocent head, and was soon to break, carrying in its turbulent depths a sorrow more bitter than death to bear. John Brooks glanced inquiringly from the one to the other, intuitively guessing he must have interrupted a scene. Daisy had struggled up from her knees to a sitting posture, putting her hair, curled into a thousand shining rings, away from her flushed face. "Have you been scolding Daisy again, Septima?" he asked, angrily, taking the panting little damsel from the floor and seating her upon his knee, and drawing her curly head down to his rough-clad shoulder, and holding it there with his toil-hardened hand. "What have you been saying to my little Daisy that I find her in tears?" "I was telling her if she did not mend her willful ways she might turn out like her moth--" "Hush!" exclaimed John Brooks, excitedly. "I shouldn't have thought you would have dared say that. What does Daisy know of such things?" he muttered, indignantly. "Don't let your senses run away with you, Septima." "Don't let your senses run away with you, John Brooks. Haven't you the sense to know Daisy is getting too big for you to take on your knee and pet in that fashion? I am really ashamed of you. Daisy is almost a woman!" snapped Septima, scornfully--"quite sixteen." John Brooks looked at his sister in amazement, holding little Daisy off and gazing into the sweet little blooming face, and stroking the long fluffy golden curls as he replied: