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HIS HEART'S QUEEN
_By_ MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON
Author of
"Dorothy's Jewels," "Earl Wayne's Nobility," "The False and the True,"
"Helen's Victory," "Tina," "Trixy," etc.
A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
52 Duane Street New York
Copyright 1890, 1903
By Street & Smith
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Popular Books
By MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON
In Handsome Cloth Binding
Price per Volume, 60 Cents
Audrey's Recompense Magic Cameo, The
Brownie's Triumph Marguerite's Heritage
Churchyard Betrothal, The Masked Bridal, The
Dorothy Arnold's Escape Max, A Cradle Mystery
Dorothy's Jewels Mona
Earl Wayne's Nobility Mysterious Wedding Ring, A
Edrie's Legacy Nora
Faithful Shirley Queen Bess
False and The True, The Ruby's Reward
For Love and Honor, Shadowed Happiness, A,
Sequel to Geoffrey's Victory Sequel to Wild Oats
Forsaken Bride, The Sibyl's Influence
Geoffrey's Victory Stella Roosevelt
Girl in a Thousand, A Thorn Among Roses, A,
Golden Key, The Sequel to a Girl in a Thousand
Heatherford Fortune, The, Threads Gathered Up,
Sequel to The Magic Cameo Sequel to Virgie's Inheritance
He Loves Me For Myself, Thrice Wedded
Sequel to the Lily of Mordaunt Tina
Helen's Victory Trixy
Her Faith Rewarded, True Aristocrat, A
Sequel to Faithful Shirley True Love Endures,
Her Heart's Victory, Sequel to Dorothy Arnold's Escape
Sequel to Max True Love's Reward,
Heritage of Love, A, Sequel to Mona
Sequel to The Golden Key True to Herself,
His Heart's Queen Sequel to Witch Hazel
Hoiden's Conquest, A Two Keys
How Will It End, Virgie's Inheritance
Sequel to Marguerite's Heritage Wedded By Fate
Lily of Mordaunt, The Welfleet Mystery, The
Little Marplot, The Wild Oats
Little Miss Whirlwind Winifred's Sacrifice
Lost, A Pearle Witch Hazel
Love's Conquest, With Heart so True,
Sequel to Helen's Victory Sequel to His Heart's Queen
Love Victorious, A
For Sale by all Booksellers or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price
Transcriber's Note: Variant spellings, particularly bowlder
(boulder), clew (clue) and vail (veil), have been retained.
Also, the Table of Contents was missing so it has been created.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. A FRIGHTFUL ACCIDENT.
CHAPTER II. V. D. H. IS CLAIMED BY HER FRIENDS.
CHAPTER III. WILLFUL VIOLET HAS HER OWN WAY.
CHAPTER IV. A PARTING SOUVENIR.
CHAPTER V. VIOLET ASSERTS HERSELF.
CHAPTER VI. A CONFESSION AND ITS REPLY.
CHAPTER VII. "HE IS MY AFFIANCED HUSBAND."
CHAPTER VIII. "I'LL BREAK HER WILL!"
CHAPTER IX. VIOLET BECOMES A PRISONER.
CHAPTER X. "YOU WILL BE TRUE THOUGH THE OCEAN DIVIDES US."
CHAPTER XI. "DEATH HAS RELEASED YOU FROM YOUR PROMISE."
CHAPTER XII. "YOU HAVE GIVEN YOUR PROMISE AND YOU MUST STAND BY IT."
CHAPTER XIII. THE DAY IS SET FOR VIOLET'S MARRIAGE.
CHAPTER XIV. "THERE WILL BE NO WEDDING TO-DAY"
CHAPTER XV. "SHE IS MY WIFE."
CHAPTER XVI. "I MUST FIND HER--I MUST FOLLOW HER."
CHAPTER XVII. LORD CAMERON AND WALLACE BECOME FIRM FRIENDS.
CHAPTER XVIII. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW.
CHAPTER XIX. A RETROSPECTIVE GLANCE.
CHAPTER XX. VIOLET RETURNS TO AMERICA.
CHAPTER XXI. VIOLET MAKES AN ENGAGEMENT.
CHAPTER XXII. VIOLET AND HER UNRULY PUPIL.
CHAPTER XXIII. VIOLET GAINS A SIGNAL VICTORY.
CHAPTER XXIV. VIOLET MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT.
HIS HEART'S QUEEN
CHAPTER I.
A FRIGHTFUL ACCIDENT.
Just at sunset, one bright spring day, the car that plies up and down
the inclined plane leading from the foot of Main street up the hills to
the Zoological Gardens, of Cincinnati, started to make the ascent with
its load of precious human freight.
The car was full of passengers, though not crowded, while among the
occupants there were several young people, whose bright faces and
animated manner bespoke how light of heart and free from care they
were--what a gladsome, delightful place the world seemed to them.
One young lady, who was seated about midway upon one side of the car,
attracted especial attention.
She was, perhaps, seventeen years of age, slight and graceful in form,
with a lovely, piquant face, merry blue eyes, and a wealth of curling
golden hair, that clustered about her white forehead in bewitching
little rings.
She was richly dressed in a charming costume of tan-brown, trimmed with
a darker shade of the same color. Upon her head she wore a jaunty hat of
fine brown straw, with a wreath of pink apple-blossoms partially
encircling it, and fastened on one side with a pretty bow of glossy
satin ribbon, also of brown. A dainty pair of bronze boots incased her
small feet, and her hands were faultlessly gloved in long suede
gauntlets. A small, brown velvet bag, with silver clasps, hung at her
side, and in her lap lay an elegant music-roll of Russian leather.
Everything about her indicated that she was the petted child of fortune
and luxury. Her beautiful eyes were like limpid pools of water
reflecting the azure sky; her lips were wreathed with smiles; there was
not a shadow of care upon her delicate, clear-cut face.
Directly opposite her sat a young man whose appearance indicated that
his circumstances were just the reverse, although no one could ever look
into his noble face without feeling impelled to take a second glance at
him.
He was tall and stalwart of form, broad-shouldered, full-chested,
straight of limb, with a massive head set with a proud poise above a
well-shaped neck. He looked the personification of manly beauty,
strength, and health.
His face was one that, once seen, could never be forgotten. It was grave
and sweet, yet having a certain resolute expression about the mouth
which might have marred its expression somewhat had it not been for the
mirthful gleam which now and then leaped into his clear, dark-brown
eyes, and which betrayed that, beneath the gravity and dignity which a
life of care and the burden of poverty had chiseled upon his features
and imparted to his bearing, there lurked a spirit of quiet drollery and
healthy humor.
His features were strong and regular; the brow full and shapely, the
nose aquiline, the mouth firm, the chin somewhat massive. It was a
powerful face--a good face; one to be trusted and relied on.
The young man was, perhaps, twenty-three or twenty-four years of age,
though at first his dignified bearing might lead one to imagine him to
be even older than that.
He was clad in a very common suit, which betrayed his poverty, while at
his feet, in a basket, lay a plane and saw, which indicated that he
belonged to the carpenters' guild.
The pretty girl opposite stole more than one curious and admiring look
at this poor young Apollo, only to encounter a similar, though wholly
respectful glance from his genial and expressive eyes, whereupon the
lovely color would come and go on her fair, round cheek, and her eyes
droop shyly beneath their white lids.
When the car left its station at the base of the plane and began to make
its ascent, not one among all its passengers had a thought of the
terrible experience awaiting them--of the tragedy following so closely
in their wake.
It had nearly reached the top; another minute, and it would have rolled
safely into the upper station and have been made fast at the terminus.
But, suddenly, something underneath seemed to let go; there was an
instant's pause, which sent a thrill of terror through every heart; then
there began a slow retrograde movement, which rapidly increased, until,
with a feeling of terror that is utterly indescribable the ill-fated
people in that doomed car realized that they were being hurried swiftly
toward a sure and frightful destruction.
Cries and shrieks and groans filled the place. There was a frantic rush
for the door, the doomed victims seeking to force their way out of the
car to leap recklessly from the flying vehicle, and trust thus to the
faint hope of saving their lives.
But both doors were securely fastened--they were all locked within their
prison; there was no hope of escape from it and the terrible crash
awaiting them.
When the beautiful girl whom we have described realized the hopeless
situation, she gave one cry of horror, then seemed to grow suddenly and
strangely calm, though a pallor like that of death settled over her
face, and a look of wild despair leaped into her eyes.
Involuntarily she glanced at the young man opposite her, and she found
his gaze riveted upon her with a look of intense yearning, which
betrayed that he had no thought for himself; that all his fear was for
her; that the idea of seeing her, in all her bright young beauty, dashed
in pieces, crushed and mangled, had overpowered all sense of his own
personal doom.
She seemed to read his thoughts, and, like one in a dream or nightmare,
she almost unconsciously stretched forth her hands to him with a gesture
which seemed to appeal to him to save her.
Instantly he arose to his feet, calm, strong, resolute.
His face was as pale as hers, but there was a gleam in his eyes which
told her that he would not spare himself in the effort to save her.
"Will you trust me?" he murmured hoarsely in her ear, as he caught her
trembling hands in his.
Her fingers closed over his with a frantic clutch; her eyes sought his
in desperate appeal.
"Yes! yes!" Her white lips framed the words, but no sound issued from
them.
The car had now attained a frightful velocity; a moment or two more and
all would be over, and there was not an instant to lose.
The young man reached up and grasped with his strong, sinewy hands the
straps which hung from the supports above his head.
"Quick now!" he said to his almost paralyzed companion; "stand up, put
your arms about my neck, and cling to me for your life."
She looked helplessly up into his face; it seemed as if she had not the
power to move--to obey him.
With a despairing glance from the window and a groan of anguish, he
released his hold upon the straps, seized her hands again, and locked
them behind his neck.
"Cling! Cling!" he cried, in a voice of agony.
The tone aroused her; strength came to her, and she clasped him
close--close as a person drowning might have done.
He straightened himself thus, lifting her several inches from the floor
of the car, seized again the straps above, and swung himself also clear,
hoping thus to evade somewhat the terrible force of the shock which he
knew was so near.
He was not a second too soon; the crash came, and with it one frightful
volume of agonizing shrieks and groans; then all was still.
The car had been dashed into thousands of pieces, burying beneath the
_debris_ twenty human beings.
A group of horrified spectators had gathered in the street at the base
of the plane when it was rumored that the car had lost its grip upon the
cable, and had watched, with quaking hearts and bated breath, the awful
descent.
When all was over, kind and reverent hands began the sad work of
exhuming the unfortunate victims of the accident.
It was thought at first that all were dead--that not one had escaped;
that every soul had been hurled, with scarcely a moment's warning, into
eternity.
The brave young carpenter was found lying beneath two mangled bodies,
with the beautiful girl whom he had tried to save clasped close in one
of his arms; the other lay crushed beneath him.
"Brother and sister," some one had said, as, bending over them, he had
tried to disengage the lovely girl from his embrace.
He had only been stunned, however, by the shock, when the car struck,
and he now opened his great brown eyes, drawing in a deep, deep breath,
as if thus taking hold anew of the life that had so nearly been dashed
out of him.
This was followed by a groan of pain, and he became conscious that he
had not escaped altogether unscathed.
"Is she safe?" he gasped, his first thought, in spite of his own
sufferings, being for the girl for whom he had braved so much, while he
tried to look into the white, still face hidden upon his breast.
They tried to lift her from him, but her little hands were so tightly
locked at the back of his neck that it was no easy task to unclasp them.
"She is dead," a voice said, when at last she was removed, and some one
tried to ascertain if her heart was still beating; "the shock has killed
her."
"No, no!" sobbed the now completely unnerved young carpenter; "do not
tell me that she is--dead."
"Who are you, my poor fellow? Where do you live? Shall we take you to
the hospital, or do you want to go home?" they asked him.
"Oh, no, not to the hospital--home to my mother," the young man
returned, with difficulty, for his sufferings seemed to increase as he
came to himself more fully.
"No. ---- Hughes street," the poor fellow gasped, and then fainted dead
away.
They had not thought to inquire if the young girl was his sister, but
they took it for granted that she was, so they laid them side by side
and bore them away to Hughes street.
They found, upon inquiry, that the house referred to was occupied by a
Mrs. Richardson.
The woman was away when the sad cortege arrived at her home, but a
latch-key was found in the pocket of the young man, by which an entrance
was effected, and they deposited him upon a bed in a small room leading
from the sitting-room, while the young girl was laid upon a lounge in
the neat and cozy parlor. Then they hastened away to procure a physician
to examine the injuries of the two sufferers.
Mrs. Richardson returned, just about the time that the surgeon arrived,
to find that her only son had been one of the victims of the horrible
tragedy, a rumor of which had reached her while she was out, and that a
strange but lovely girl had also been brought, through mistake, to her
home.
The surgeon turned his attention at once to this beautiful stranger,
who, to all appearance, seemed beyond all human aid; but during his
examination his face suddenly lighted.
"She is not dead," he said; "the shock has only caused suspension of
animation. Her heart beats, her pulse is faint, but regular, and I
cannot find a bruise or a scratch anywhere about her."
He gave her into the hands of some women, who had come in to offer their
services, with directions how to apply the restoratives he prescribed,
and then turned his attention to the son of the house, who by this time
had recovered consciousness and was suffering intense pain from his
injuries.
His mother was bending over him in an agony of anxiety and suspense,
while she strove, in various ways, to relieve his sufferings.
"Wallace--Wallace!" she cried; "how did it happen that you were going up
in that car at this time of the day?"
"I cannot tell you now--some other time," he returned.
Then turning to the surgeon, who entered at that moment, while he strove
to stifle his groans in his anxiety to learn how it fared with the girl
whom he had so bravely tried to save, he asked, eagerly.
"How is she?"
"She is not injured; there is not a bone broken that I can discover, and
she will do well enough unless the shock to her nerves should throw her
into a fever or bring on prostration," the doctor replied.
"Thank Heaven!" murmured the carpenter, and then fainted away again.
A thorough examination of his condition revealed the fact that two ribs
had been fractured and his left arm broken in two places, while it was
feared that there might be other internal injuries.
All that could be done for him was done at once, and, though weak and
exhausted, he was otherwise comparatively comfortable when the surgeon
got through with him.
He then turned his attention once more to the fair girl in the other
room.
"You will have your hands more than full, Mrs. Richardson, with your son
and daughter ill at once," he remarked. "You must have an experienced
nurse to assist you."
"The poor girl is not my daughter; I do not even know who she is," the
woman replied, as she bent over the beautiful stranger with a tender,
motherly face.
"Not your child! Who can she be, then?" her companion inquired, in
surprise.
They searched in her pretty velvet bag, hoping to find her card or some
address; but nothing was found save some car tickets and a generous sum
of money.
The inscription upon her music-roll revealed scarcely more--only the
initials "V. D. H." being engraven upon its silver clasp.
She had recovered consciousness, but still lay so weak and faint that
the surgeon did not think it best to question her just then, and, after
taking one more look at his other patient, he went away to other duties,
but promised to look in upon them again in a couple of hours.
When he did return he found Wallace comfortable and sleeping; but the
young girl was in a high fever and raving with delirium.
"Shall I have her taken to the hospital?" Doctor Norton asked of Mrs.
Richardson. "The care of both patients will be far too much for you, and
her friends will probably find her there before long."
"I cannot bear to let her go," Mrs. Richardson replied, with staring
tears. "She is so young, and has been so delicately reared. I know that
she would have the best of care; still I recoil from the thought of
having her moved. Leave her here for a day or two, and, if my son is
comfortable, perhaps I can take care of her without neglecting him."
Thus it was arranged, and the physician went away thinking that women
like Mrs. Richardson were rare.
Two days later the following advertisement appeared in the Cincinnati
papers:
Wanted, information regarding Miss Violet Draper Huntington,
who left her home, No. ---- Auburn avenue, on Tuesday
afternoon, to take a music lesson in the city. Fears have
been entertained that she might have been one of the victims of
the Main street accident, but though her friends have thoroughly
searched the morgue and hospitals, no tidings of her have as
yet been obtained.
Doctor Morton read the above while on his way to visit his two patients
in Hughes street, and instantly his mind reverted to the initials
engraved upon the unknown girl's music-roll.
"V. D. H.," he said, musingly, as his eyes rested upon the name Violet
Draper Huntington in the advertisement. "That is my pretty patient, poor
child! and now we will have your friends looking after you and relieving
that poor overworked woman before another twelve hours pass."
He showed the advertisement to Mrs. Richardson upon his arrival at the
house, and she agreed with him that her lovely charge must be the Miss
Huntington referred to in the paper.
The girl continued to be in a very critical state. She was burning with
fever, was unconscious of her surroundings, was constantly calling upon
"Belle" and "Wilhelm" to "help her--to save her."
"She is not so well," the physician said, gravely, as he felt the
bounding pulse, "her fever is increasing. I shall go at once to Auburn
avenue and inform her relatives of her condition."