A silent, miserable cortège, they filed into the hall, where so lately mirth and joy reigned, now still and lonely, with scared servants gliding to and fro, turning down the brilliant lights, and removing the traces of festivity. Letty Green was waiting with Cullen at the door to conduct them to the dying man, and as they went along the corridor Mrs. Fleming herself came to meet them, her eyes dim with tears, that made her festal robes look strangely out of place. She took Daisie’s hand, and whispered: “You will soon be free now. Poor Royall cannot live long. It is his love for you that has caused his death. That wretch killed him!” “That wretch?” Daisie sobbed uncomprehendingly; and Mrs. Fleming hissed in her ear: “Who but his cruel rival?” Daisie would have sunk to the floor but for the widow’s supporting arm, and she moaned, in distress: “Ah, no, no, no!” They were almost at the door, the minister and Mrs. Bell in advance, when, pausing a moment, Mrs. Fleming muttered: “Compose yourself. I have told no one the truth, and perhaps I never shall. That will depend on you, Daisie Bell. But listen: When the fatal shot was fired, I looked around quickly, and saw the cruel murderer rushing from the scene. He was tall, and dark, and handsome, and I knew him at once; and I shrieked out his name, but I think no one heard it. So presently, even while they were all crying out to know who did it, I feigned swooning, and answered nothing, for a thought came to me, that----But come, let us go in to Royall now, poor boy!” dragging her over the threshold. CHAPTER XVIII. “BE KIND TO ME.” Half dazed with horror, Daisie followed Mrs. Fleming over the threshold into the darkened room, where a grave-faced physician watched by the bedside of the dying man. She saw Royall Sherwood lying among the pillows, his delicate blond complexion changed to a purplish pallor, his eyes closed, lying as still as if already dead. The physician came to them softly, and whispered: “He has fallen asleep, and it might be better not to disturb him until he awakes naturally.” “But will he ever awake?” whispered Mrs. Fleming, with a stifled sob. “Oh, yes, I think so. You may withdraw into another room, and I will call you as soon as he opens his eyes.” They obeyed him, going softly to another room, where Mrs. Fleming left Daisie alone a few moments, saying: “I must go and see to your aunt’s comfort; then I will return, for I have something very serious to say to you.” Daisie was left alone in the luxurious boudoir, where the electric lights, filtered through rosy globes, shed a warm, pink glow on her pallid face. But she did not think of envying the rich widow her wealth and splendor. Her heart sped on the wings of love to Dallas, from whom she had been so cruelly parted, and, with a sudden feeling that she was powerless in the grasp of the untoward fate that beset her, she fell on her knees, praying humbly: “Oh, God, deliver me from the snare of my enemies!”