“How can you be so hard and unfeeling?” demanded his cousin, approaching. “Do you not see how you excite him by your refusals? And it is so little that he asks--simply to stay by him till the last hour, that may come sooner than any one expects. See how humbly he sues, when, as your husband, he has a right to command your obedience.” “I do not acknowledge that claim!” Daisie cried, with a flashing eye. “Nor do I urge it,” Royall Sherwood faltered quickly. “I waive all rights, if I have any, and ask your stay for sweet pity’s sake.” That humility touched her heart as no arrogant demands could have done, and it made it all the harder for her to withstand their appeals. But, bracing herself for a supreme effort, she reiterated: “I--I really cannot stay any longer than to-morrow. I am compelled to return to New York to my work. I--I--have written that I am coming.” “That makes no difference,” began Mrs. Fleming, but paused in consternation as a slight young figure dashed across the floor to Daisie, and a tremulous voice cried excitedly: “Cruel, hard-hearted girl! You shall not refuse his prayer! Will you let a man die of heartbreak when your kindness would save his life?” CHAPTER XIX. STRANGE EMOTION. It was the little, dark-eyed beauty, Annette Janowitz, who had been listening by the door for some minutes, and now, unable to restrain her excitement, rushed to Daisie’s side with a passionate protest: “Would you let a man die of heartbreak when your kindness would save his life?” Annette was terribly excited. Her slight frame trembled with emotion, and her large black eyes gleamed like stars out of her pale face, wasted and worn from recent illness. Her expression was one of the keenest anguish. Daisie looked up in wonder at her little friend, faltering: “Oh, Annette, how came you here at this midnight hour? Who told you what had happened?” The words produced a terrible effect on the little brunette. She gasped for breath, and turned as ashen pale as the dying man on the bed, seeming as if about to sink to the floor, until Mrs. Fleming hurriedly forced her into a chair. Then, utterly disregarding her friend’s question, she uttered wildly: “Royall Sherwood must not die! He must not die, for then the man that shot him would be a cruel murderer! And I am sure he would not wish it. He did not mean it. He made a terrible mistake, and--but what am I saying?” fearfully. “I don’t know anything about this, except that I’m so sorry--so sorry--and Mr. Sherwood’s life must be saved, no matter by what sacrifice! Listen to me, Daisie Bell: You must not refuse anything he asks you to do, for if you leave him he will surely die, and you will be his murderer, not that other one. No, not that other one, for I’m sure he made an awful mistake, and--and----Oh, stay here to nurse Mr. Sherwood; do, dear Daisie, and I will stay and help you all I can.”