“It shall be as you wish, my angel,” he answered tenderly, in the great happiness of feeling that she would soon be all his own. Who could not be patient, having gained so sweet a promise? So the April days came and went, till it was three weeks since the fire and his coming to Gull Beach. Annette had written to say that Ray Dering--all knew him by his own name now, for when he believed himself dying he had confessed his sin to Royall and won his forgiveness--was convalescing fast, and would soon be well again. She was busy buying her wedding clothes in New York, and mamma had consented for her to marry Ray in June, when they would go abroad for a trip. Royall had told Daisie of Ray’s confession, and added: “But we must never betray the poor fellow’s secret to any one else--not even Lutie. He saved my life so nobly that his confidence shall be sacred.” Daisie was more glad to hear this secret than he guessed, for she had been tormented by the mystery of who had wounded Royall ever since Mrs. Fleming had told her she had seen Dallas Bain commit the crime--not that she believed the story, but she feared the wicked woman might dare to accuse Dallas of it to gain revenge for his scorn. The first day of May--would Daisie ever forget it?--Royall remained all day with his “sweetheart,” as he gayly called her, humoring her whims; and on kissing her good-by, he said tenderly: “A dozen kisses this time, sweetheart, because I am going to New York to-night, to be gone a few days, to meet poor Lutie, who has written me that she has come home, disappointed, from California, and wants to see me about pressing business matters.” How glad Daisie was afterward that she let him take all the kisses he wanted, and that she even clasped her white arms tenderly about his neck, and sent him away happy, confident that he was winning her love at last. Was it true? Was she going to find happiness with him at last, or was it only a pitiful playing at love? He was fated never to know. Between the dark and the dawn, his train broke through a trestle, and crashed down into a raging hell of swollen waters. The twoscore souls among whom he perished were hurled in an instant from life to death. Full of hope and joy, dreaming of his love--Daisie--Royall Sherwood went to death through the gates of sleep. The waters gave up his bruised body the next morning, and on his lips was a smile--the smile that Daisie’s caress had left shining there. Two days later he had a grand funeral, at which Mrs. Fleming was the chief mourner, for his young widow was too ill to attend it. She had a relapse from the awful shock of the news, and hovered for days between life and death. When she was well enough to sit up again, she found two very tender letters awaiting her perusal. One was a very fond and tender note from Annette, proffering her sympathy, and telling her of the grand funeral, and how beautiful the new mound looked in Greenwood, all banked with fragrant flowers.