“Yes. Wasn’t it a piece of impudence? But she got around me with that winning way of hers that makes fools of all the men--and some of the women, too--and I promised to keep her secret myself, and to beg you.” “Her secret?” “Yes; that she flirted with you. She’s afraid for Royall to find out lest he break the engagement. And she cried, and vowed she loved him truly, though I fear it’s just his money. She said: ‘Oh, Mrs. Fleming, no one knows it but you and Mr. Bain. Don’t betray me to dear Royall, please don’t; and ask him--Mr. Bain, that dear, impetuous fellow--not to tell of me. I did wrong, I know; but he was so much in earnest, and I was only having a little fun. And Mr. Bain owes me something for causing me that accident yesterday.’” His great eyes flashed with contempt, and he cried hotly: “Very well, then. I will pay my debt by silence. Tell her she need not fear that I shall betray her to Royall. I am as much ashamed of that affair as she is, and I wish I could say, as she does, that I was only having a little fun. But I was in earnest, as she knows, and so--I must suffer,” bitterly. “But you must not learn to despise true, loving women for the sake of one false coquette,” she murmured, and just then dinner was ceremoniously announced. CHAPTER VIII. A TERRIBLE MISTAKE. So Annette waited in vain that evening for Dallas Bain to call in reply to her invitation, and she could hardly wait till after breakfast the next morning to rush to Daisie and tell her the bad news. Daisie was still in bed, for her sprained foot was worse this morning from her rash effort to walk on it yesterday. Tears rushed to her lovely eyes, and she sobbed aloud with grief and disappointment. “I see how it is, Annette,” she cried. “He misunderstands me, and is too proud to give a sign that he cares. He will never forgive me until I explain everything to him.” “Write him a letter, and I will carry it to him myself, and plead your cause in person. Then his hard heart will surely be melted,” returned the vivacious little beauty. So Daisie was propped up in bed, and, with a throbbing heart and blushes that came and went like the roseate glow of dawn, she penned Dallas Bain the sweetest epistle that ever gladdened a true lover’s heart. She was fighting for her life’s happiness, dear little Daisie, and every word was eloquent with truth and love. Ah, the pity of it that he had gone away too soon to receive it--gone away with that proud, aching heart and that distrust of all fair women for the sake of one cruel misunderstanding. Annette took the letter and beamed encouragingly upon her forlorn friend. “Now, cheer up, Daisie, for I shall have him here to call on you this evening,” she predicted brightly. “You see, I owe Mrs. Fleming a party call, and I will go to make it this afternoon. I shall be sure to see Mr. Bain there, and I will give him this letter, and make sure he reads it; then all the trouble will be over.”