And Rex, all unconscious of the strange, invisible thread which fate was weaving so closely about him, quickly made his way through the fast-gathering darkness down the old familiar path which led through the odorous orange groves to the old stone wall, guided by the shrill treble of Birdie's childish voice, which he heard in the distance, mingled with the plaintive murmur of the sad sea-waves--those waves that seemed ever murmuring in their song the name of Daisy. Even the subtle breeze seemed to whisper of her presence. CHAPTER XX. "I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered my little sister," said Rex, extending his hand to the little veiled figure standing in the shade of the orange-trees. "Allow me to thank you for it." Poor Daisy! she dared not speak lest the tones of her voice should betray her identity. "I must for evermore be as one dead to him," she whispered to her wildly beating heart. Rex wondered why the little, fluttering, cold fingers dropped so quickly from his clasp; he thought he heard a stifled sigh; the slight, delicate form looked strangely familiar, yet he could see it was neither Eve, Gerty, nor Bess. She bowed her head with a few low-murmured words he scarcely caught, and the next instant the little figure was lost to sight in the darkness beyond. "Who was that, Birdie?" he asked, scarcely knowing what prompted the question. Alas for the memory of childhood! poor little Birdie had quite forgotten. "It is so stupid of me to forget, but when I see her again I shall ask her and try and remember it then." "It is of no consequence," said Rex, raising the little figure in his arms and bearing her quickly up the graveled path to the house. As he neared the house Rex observed there was great confusion among the servants; there was a low murmur of voices and lights moving to and fro. "What is the matter, Parker?" cried Rex, anxiously, of the servant who came out to meet him. "Mrs. Lyon is very ill, sir," he answered, gravely; "it is a paralytic stroke the doctor says. We could not find you, so we went for Doctor Elton at once." It seemed but a moment since he had parted from his mother in the gathering twilight, to search for Birdie. His mother very ill--dear Heaven! he could scarcely realize it. "Oh, take me to mother, Rex!" cried Birdie, clinging to him piteously. "Oh, it can not, it cannot be true; take me to her, Rex!" The sound of hushed weeping fell upon his ears and seemed to bring to him a sense of what was happening. Like one in a dream he hurried along the corridor toward his mother's boudoir. He heard his mother's voice calling for him. "Where is my son?" she moaned. He opened the door quietly and went in. Her dark eyes opened feebly as Rex entered, and she held out her arms to him. "Oh, my son, my son!" she cried; "thank Heaven you are here!" She clung to him, weeping bitterly. It was the first time he had ever seen tears in his mother's eyes, and he was touched beyond words.