Daisie did not mean for any one to guess that her poor heart was broken, so she did her part with the rest, laughing and singing like the happiest girl in the world, though all the while her poor heart was calling tenderly: “Oh, Dallas, my love, come back, come back!” CHAPTER XII. AN UNBIDDEN GUEST. Did the strange, mysterious influences ever about and around us, though beyond our ken, bear to Dallas Bain the yearning heart cry of his deserted love? Did they bring him back to her side that night? Far away, ’mid the busy haunts of the world of men, he had sought forgetfulness, and found it not. He was a haunted man--haunted by a face, a voice, a wealth of golden hair, a soul--for was not Daisie’s soul always following and seeking his in the mystery that held him from her side? So at last, by the force of her yearning, she drew him back. He was proud and angry, but insensibly his heart began to soften, he began to invent excuses, to believe that he had been too hasty, had judged her too harshly. “I did not let her explain. I left too quickly. If I had waited, she might have justified herself,” he thought. He began to doubt the cunning lies Mrs. Fleming had poured into his ears at their last interview. “What if her story were false? Perhaps she was trying to turn my heart against the girl, because she wanted to win me herself.” The more he thought of it, the more he began to soften toward the girl whose beautiful image filled his great, passionate heart. And because she haunted him so, because he began to realize all the strength of his love, and the pain of their separation, he suddenly determined to return to Gull Beach. “I will go and hear her story. Perhaps she can justify herself,” he said to his beating heart, as he opened the cottage gate. All was still and quiet, but a light shone through the parlor blinds, and he hoped that she was there thinking of him in sadness and tears that would change to love and joy when she saw him enter the room. His heart was beating almost to suffocation as he rang the bell at the door. There was a little delay, then it swung open, and in the glow of the hall lamp he saw a rather grim old lady in a widow’s cap and gown--Daisie’s Aunt Alice. She recognized him at once--the disturbing cause in the broken engagement--and stiffened herself implacably. “Good evening, Mrs. Bell. I see you know me. Is Miss Daisie at home?” he inquired eagerly. “No; she has gone away,” curtly. “May I ask where?” humbly. “Certainly. She is up at Sea View, staying with her friend Mrs. Fleming, cousin to the gentleman she is engaged to marry.” She saw Dallas give a great start of surprise and dismay, then he cried huskily: “Is--she--engaged to him still?” The old lady, seeing her opportunity to head him off, and pitiless to Daisie in her desire for the grand match, answered stolidly: