The sweet, plaintive voice, as sweet as the silvery note of a forest bird, went straight to his heart. Whatever the mission of this beautiful, mysterious visitor, he would certainly respect her wishes. "I shall not mention it if you do not wish it," he said. "Thank you," she replied, simply; "you are very kind. My life seems made up of disappointments," she continued, as she walked slowly home under the restless, sighing green branches. It seemed so indeed. She was so young and inexperienced to be thrown so entirely upon the cold, pitiless world--cut off so entirely from all human sympathy. She entered the house quite unobserved. Eve--bright, merry, dashing Eve--was singing like a lark in the drawing-room, making the old house echo with her bright young voice. "How happy she is!" thought Daisy, wistfully. "She has home, friends, and love, while I have nothing that makes life worth the living." Like a shadow, she flitted on through the dim, shadowy hall, toward her own little room. She saw Gertie's door was ajar as she passed it, and the sound of her own name caused her to pause voluntarily. It was very natural for Daisy to pause. How many are there who would have passed on quietly, with no desire to know what was being said of themselves, when they heard their own names mentioned in such a sneering manner? Daisy certainly meant no harm by it; she paused, thoughtfully and curiously, as any one would have done. "I am sure I don't like it," Gertie was saying, spitefully. "It is an actual shame allowing Daisy Brooks to remain here. Uncle Jet was a mean old thing to send her here, where there were three marriageable young ladies. I tell you he did it out of pure spite." "I believe it," answered Bess, spiritedly. "Every one of my beaus either hints for an introduction or asks for it outright." "What do you tell them?" questions Gertie, eagerly. "Tell them! Why, I look exceedingly surprised, replying: 'I do not know to whom you refer. We have no company at the house just now.' 'I mean that beautiful, golden-haired little fairy, with the rosy cheeks and large blue eyes. If not your guest, may I ask who she is?' I am certainly compelled to answer so direct a thrust," continued Bess, angrily; "and I ask in well-feigned wonder: 'Surely you do not mean Daisy Brooks, my mother's paid companion?'" "What do they say to that?" asked Gertie, laughing heartily at her elder sister's ingenuity, and tossing her curl papers until every curl threatened to tumble down. "That settles it, doesn't it?" "Mercy, no!" cried Bess, raising her eyebrows; "not a bit of it. The more I say against her--in a sweet way, of course--the more they are determined to form her acquaintance."