Part 2 (2/2)
Daisy was too young and childish anyway, and ought not to have been married for several years, and it was really quite as much a favor to Guy as a wrong. He was free again,-free to marry if he liked,-he had taken care to see to that, so--
”Stop!” Guy thundered out, rousing himself from his crouching att.i.tude upon the sofa. ”There is a point beyond which you shall not go. Be satisfied with taking Daisy from me, and do not insult me with talk of a second marriage. Had I found Daisy dead it would have hurt me less than this fearful wrong you have done. I say _you_, for I charge it all to _you_. Daisy could have had no part in it, and I ask to see her and hear from her own lips that she accepts the position in which you and your diabolical laws have placed her before I am willing to give her up. Call her, will you?”
”No, Mr. Thornton,” Mr. McDonald replied. ”To see Daisy would be useless, and only excite you more than you are excited now. You cannot see her.”
”Yes he will, father. If Guy wants to see me, he shall.”
It was Daisy herself who spoke, and who a second time had been acting the part of listener. Going up to Guy she knelt down beside him, and laying her arms across his lap, said to him.
”What is it, Guy what is it you wish to say to me?”
The sight of her before him in all her girlish beauty, with that soft, sweet expression on the face raised so timidly to his, unmanned Guy entirely, and clasping her in his arms he wept pa.s.sionately for a moment, while he tried to say:
”Oh, Daisy, my darling, tell me it is a horrid dream,-tell me you are still my wife, and go with me to the home I have tried to make so pleasant for your sake. It is not like Elmwood, but I will sometime have one handsomer even than that, and I'll work so hard for you. Oh, Daisy, tell me you are sorry for the part you had in this fearful business, if indeed you had a part, and I'll take you back so gladly. Will you, Daisy; will you be my wife once more? I shall never ask you again. This is your last chance with me. Reflect before you throw it away.”
Guy's mood was changing a little, because of something he saw in Daisy's face,-a drawing back from him when he spoke of marriage.
”Daisy must not go back with you; I shall not suffer that,” Mr. McDonald said, while Daisy, still keeping her arms around Guy's neck, where she had put them when he drew her to him, replied:
”Oh, Guy! I can't go with you; but I shall like you always, and I'm sorry for you. I never wanted to be married; but if I must, I'd better have married _Tom_, or that old Chicago man; they would not have felt so badly, and I'd rather hurt them than you.”
The utter childishness of the remark roused Guy, and, with a gesture of impatience, he put her from him, and rising to his feet, said angrily:
”This, then, is your decision, and I accept it; but, Daisy, if you have in you a spark of true womanhood, you will some time be sorry for this day's work; while _you_!” and he turned fiercely upon Mr.
McDonald,-”words cannot express the contempt I feel for you; and know, too, that I understand you fully, and am certain that were I the rich man I was when you gave your daughter to me, you would not have taken her away. But I will waste no more words upon you. You are a _villain_!
and Daisy is”--His white lips quivered a little as he hesitated a moment, and then added: ”Daisy _was_ my wife.”
Then, without another word, he left the house, and never turned to see the white, frightened face which looked after him so wistfully until a turn in the street hid him from view.
CHAPTER VI.-EXTRACTS FROM DIARIES.
_Extract 1st.-Mr. McDonald's._
May --.
Well, that matter is over, and I can't say I am sorry, for the expression in that Thornton's eye I do not care to meet a second time.
There was mischief in it, and it made one think of six-shooters and cold lead. I never quite indorsed the man,-first, because he was not as rich as I would like Daisy's husband to be; and second, because even had he been a millionaire it would have done _me_ no good. That he did not marry Daisy's family, he made me fully understand; and for any good his money did me, I was as poor after the marriage as before. Then he must needs lose all he had in that foolish way; and when I found that Daisy was not exceedingly in love with married life, it was natural that, as her father, I should take advantage of the laws of the State in which I live, especially as _Tom_ is growing rich so fast. On the whole, I have done a good thing. Daisy is free, with ten thousand dollars which Thornton settled on her; for, of course, I shall prevent her giving that back as she is determined to do, saying it is not hers, and she will not keep it. It is hers and she shall keep it, and Tom will be a millionaire if that gold mine proves as great a success as it seems likely to do; and I can manage Tom, only I am sorry for Thornton who evidently was in love with Daisy; and, as I said before, I've done a nice thing after all.
_Extract 2nd.-Miss Thornton's Diary._
June 30th, 18-.
To-day, for the first time, we have hopes that my brother will live; but, oh! how near he has been to the gates of death since that night when he came back to us from the West, with a fearful look on his face, and a cruel wound in his heart. I say us, for Julia Hamilton has been with me all through the dreadful days and nights when I watched to see Guy's life go out and know I was left alone. She was with me when I was getting ready for Daisy, and waiting for Guy to bring her home,-not to Elmwood,-that dear old place is sold, and strangers walk the rooms I love so well,-but here to the brown cottage on the hill, which, if I had never had Elmwood, would seem so pleasant to me.
And it is pleasant here, especially in Daisy's room, which we shall never use, for the door is shut and bolted, and it seems each time I pa.s.s it as if a dead body were lying hidden there. Had Guy died I would have laid him there and sent for that false creature to come and see her work. I promised her so much, but not from any love, for my heart was full of bitterness that night when I turned her from the door out into the rain. I shall never tell Guy that, lest he should soften toward her, and I would not have her here again for all the world contains. And yet I did like her, and was looking forward to her return with a good deal of pleasure. Julia had spoken many a kind word for her, had pleaded her extreme youth as an excuse for her faults, and had led me to hope for better things when time had matured her somewhat and she had become accustomed to our new mode of life.
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