The other letter was from Mrs. Fleming, whose pride, crushed and broken by the death of the cousin she had truly loved, stooped now to crave forgiveness of her she had wronged. Think kindly of his memory, now that he is gone; for indeed I am most to blame, and I feel that Heaven has punished me for my sin in taking him away, when we were always so fond of each other, having no nearer kin. I know you can never be real friends with me; but won’t you pretend to be friends, so that the world--Royall’s world and mine--need never know how that marriage came about? I would like to come and see you, so that people might say we love each other for Royall’s sake. May I? And, Daisie, will you please me by wearing black for him? It would please him if he could know. Of course you will marry Lord Werter after a while; it is only right you should. I have not a word to say. I loved him myself--perhaps Royall told you that--but Dallas cared only for you, and you two will be happy together at last, despite all my wicked scheming. It is the will of Heaven. Oh, if you could find it in your tender heart to pity and forgive me! The next mail carried the repentant woman an envelope sealed in black, and one tear-blotted line: I forgive--for Royall’s sake. DAISIE. CHAPTER XXXVIII. “LOVE IS LORD OF ALL.” Two years, and the grass was green on Royall Sherwood’s grave. Many times had a beautiful form, robed in somber black, knelt by that low, green mound; many times had Daisie hung flowers upon the broken marble shaft, and watered them with her gentle tears. For “pity is akin to love,” and Daisie did not have to pretend a sorrow she did not feel. Her grief was deep and fervent for the hopeful life cut off in its morning. Once, when Lutie Fleming had come with her to the grave, she had said mournfully: “Oh, if he had lived I must have learned to love him by and by--he must have won me by the strength of his own love. Now I will always live single for his sake.” “No, Daisie, do not say that in your grief and remorse, for there was another who was so cruelly wronged in the past that you must soon begin to think of his claims. You know whom I mean, dear.” Yes, Daisie knew. Soon after Royall’s death he had sent her one sympathetic line: God bless you, my sweet little Daisie! And so noble and gentle was his heart that he did not, for more than a year, intrude on the quiet mourning for the dead by recalling himself to her memory. Yet Dallas knew that she would not forget. When a year had passed, Mrs. Fleming showed how much her heart had changed by saying: “You ought to lighten your mourning now, Daisie. Lord Werter has been very patient and forgiving, but he will be coming soon.” And within the month came another short letter: May I come now, Daisie? Or have you changed? The answer went back: