"You must close those bright little eyes of yours, and drift quickly into the Land of Nod, or there will be no roses in these cheeks to-morrow. Good-night, my pretty little dear!" "Good-night, dear, kind Ruth!" sighed Daisy. And she watched the old lady with wistful, hungry eyes as she picked up her shaded night-lamp, that threw such a soft, sweet radiance over her aged face, as she quietly quitted the room. A sudden change came over Daisy's face as the sound of her footsteps died away in the hall. "Oh, God! help me!" she cried, piteously, struggling to her feet. "I must be far away from here when daylight breaks." She was so weak she almost fell back on her bed again when she attempted to rise. The thought of the morrow lent strength to her flagging energies. A strange mist seemed rising before her. Twice she seemed near fainting, but her indomitable courage kept her from sinking, as she thought of what the morrow would have in store for her. Quietly she counted over the little store in her purse by the moon's rays. "Seventy dollars! Oh, I could never use all that in my life!" she cried. "Besides, I could never touch one cent of Stanwick's money. It would burn my fingers--I am sure it would!" Folding the bill carefully in two she placed it beneath her little snowy ruffled pillow. Then catching up the thick, dark shawl which lay on an adjacent table, she wrapped it quickly about her. She opened the door leading out into the hall, and listened. All was still--solemnly still. Daisy crept softly down the stairs, and out into the quiet beauty of the still, summer night. "Rex," she wailed, softly, "perhaps when I am dead you will feel sorry for poor little Daisy, and some one may tell you how you have wronged me in your thoughts, but you would not let me tell you how it happened!" In the distance she saw the shimmer of water lying white and still under the moon's rays, tipped by the silvery light of the stars. "No, not that way," she cried, with a shudder; "some one might save me, and I want to die!" In the distance the red and colored gleaming lights of an apothecary's shop caught her gaze. "Yes, that way will be best," she said, reflectively. She drew the shawl closer about her, pressing on as rapidly as her feeble little feet would carry her. How weak she was when she turned the knob and entered--the very lights seemed dancing around her. A small, keen-eyed, shrewd little man stepped briskly forward to wait upon her. He started back in horror at the utter despair and woe in the beautiful young face that was turned for a moment toward him, beautiful in all its pallor as a statue, with a crown of golden hair such as pictures of angels wear encircling the perfect head. "What can I do for you, miss?" queried the apothecary, gazing searchingly into the beautiful dreamy blue eyes raised up to his and wondering who she could possibly be.