Transcriber’s Notes:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_), and text
enclosed by equal signs is in bold (=bold=).
Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
* * * * *
LAURA SERIES No. 2
BETROTHED FOR A DAY
BY LAURA JEAN LIBBEY
[Illustration]
STREET & SMITH PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
* * * * *
BETROTHED FOR A DAY;
OR,
Queenie Trevalyn’s Love Test
BY
MISS LAURA JEAN LIBBEY
_The Greatest Living Novelist, whose stories no author has ever been
able to equal, and whose fame as the Favorite Writer of the People
has never been surpassed_,
AUTHOR OF
“The Lovely Maid of Darby Town,” “What is Life Without Love?”
“Sweet Dolly Gray,” “Sweetheart Will You be True?”
“The Price of Pretty Odette’s Kiss,” “Sweet Kitty Clover,”
“Ought We to Invite Her?” “Parted by Fate,”
“Ione,” “We Parted at the Altar,” etc.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS
238 WILLIAM STREET
* * * * *
Copyright, 1901
By Norman L. Munro
Betrothed for a Day
* * * * *
BY LAURA JEAN LIBBEY
The Laura Series
Almost every reader, in the course of his or her experience, has read
at least one of Laura Jean Libbey’s most enjoyable novels. Probably,
upon finishing the tale the only regret the reader had was that it was
not twice as long.
This may also be applied to the author’s new stories, all of which
Messrs. Street & Smith have recently purchased at a round figure.
These, the best productions from the pen of an author, all of whose
works may conscientiously be classed as excellent, will be published in
a new line called the Laura Series.
These stories have never appeared in book form--they are not old ones.
They are guaranteed to be the latest and best--representing the full
talent of this remarkable writer.
We give herewith a list of those published and others scheduled.
_By_ LAURA JEAN LIBBEY
1. The Lovely Maid of Darby Town.
2. Betrothed for a Day.
3. What Is Life Without Love?
4. Sweet Dolly Grey.
5. Sweetheart, Will You Be True?
6. Gladys, the Music Teacher’s Daughter.
7. Madcap Laddy, The Flirt.
8. The Prince of Pretty Odette’s Kiss.
9. Sweet Kitty Clover.
10. Ought We to Invite Her?
* * * * *
BETROTHED FOR A DAY.
CHAPTER I. A STRANGER’S LOVE.
“Her lips were silent--scarcely beat her heart,
Her eyes alone proclaimed, ‘we must not part;’
Thy hope may perish, or thy friends may flee,
Farewell to life, but not adieu to thee.”
It was on the last night of the season at gay Newport; on the morrow,
at the noon hour, there was to be a great exodus of the summer guests,
and by nightfall the famous Ocean House would be closed.
The brilliant season of 1901 would be but a memory to the merry
throng--dancing, laughing, flirting to their hearts’ content to-night
in the magnificent ballroom; and every one seemed intent upon making
the most of the occasion.
As usual, “the beautiful Miss Trevalyn,” as every one called her, was
the belle of the ball, as she had been the belle of the season, much
to the chagrin of a whole set of beauties who had come this summer to
take Newport by storm and capture the richest matrimonial prize. Even
Miss Queenie Trevalyn’s cruelest enemy could not help but admit that
she was simply perfect to-night as she floated down the plant-embowered
ballroom, a fairy vision in pink tulle, fluttering ribbons and garlands
of blush-roses looping back her long jetty curls. Here, there and
everywhere flashed that slender pink figure with the lovely face, rosy
and radiant with smiles and flushed with excitement, her red lips
parted, and those wondrous midnight-black eyes of hers gleaming like
stars.
“Who is the gentleman with whom Miss Trevalyn is waltzing?” asked an
anxious mother--a guest from one of the cottages--whose four unmarried
daughters were at that moment playing the disagreeable part of wall
flowers.
Her companion, an old-time guest of the hotel, who kept strict
tabs upon the other guests, and prided herself upon knowing pretty
thoroughly everybody else’s business, leaned forward from her seat on
the piazza and raised her lorgnette to her eyes, critically surveying
the young lady’s partner.
He was a tall, handsome, distinguished man of at least thirty, bronzed
and bearded, with a noble bearing that could not fail to attract
attention anywhere. He was a man whom men take to on sight, and women
adore.
His eyes were deep blue and his hair was a dark, chestnut brown--a
shade darker perhaps than the trim beard and mustache were.
“That is just what everybody here has been trying to find out,” was the
reply, “but no one seems to know; he came here quite a month ago, and
the first evening of his arrival proved himself a hero. It happened in
this way: The elevator boy, upon reaching the fourth floor, had stepped
out of the car for a moment to lift a heavy satchel for a lady who had
come up with him, to a room a couple of doors distant, and in that
moment two persons had entered the elevator--Miss Queenie Trevalyn and
the distinguished-looking new arrival. No one could tell just how the
terrible affair occurred, whether one or the other brushed against the
lever accidentally or not, but the next instant, with the rapidity of
lightning, and without an instant’s warning, the car began to shoot
downward.
“Wild cries of horror broke from the lips of the guests at each landing
as it shot past. They realized what had happened; they could see that
there was some one in the car, and they realized that it meant instant
death to the occupants when the car reached the flagging below.
“Some one who heard the horrible whizzing sound from below, and knew
what had occurred, had the presence of mind to tear aside the wire
door. What occurred then even those who witnessed it can scarcely
recount, they were so dazeny. Anyhow, seeing the clearing straight
ahead, the stranger made the most daring leap for life that was ever
chronicled either in tale or history, through it; he had Miss Trevalyn,
who was in a deep swoon, clasped tightly in his arms.
“Out from the flying, death-dealing car he shot like an arrow from
a bow, landing headforemost among the throng, who fairly held their
breath in horror too awful for words.
“The car was wrecked into a thousand fragments.
“By the presence of mind of the heroic stranger Miss Trevalyn’s and his
own life were spared, and they were little the worse, save from the
fright, from their thrilling experience.
“They would have made a great furore over Mr. John Dinsmore at the
Ocean Hotel after that, but he would not permit it. He flatly refused
to be lionized, which showed Newport society that he was certainly
careless about being in the swim, as we call it.
“His heart was not proof against a lovely girl’s attractions, however.
He finished by falling in love with Miss Trevalyn in the most approved,
romantic style, and has been her veritable shadow ever since, despite
the fact that there are a score of handsome fellows in the race for her
favor, and one in particular, a young man who is heir to the fortune of
his uncle, a multi-millionaire, who was supposed to be the lucky winner
of the queen’s heart up to the day of the thrilling elevator episode.”
“I suppose she will marry the fine-looking hero who saved her life,”
said the mother of the four unwedded maidens.
The other returned significantly:
“If he is rich, it is not unlikely; if he is poor, Queenie Trevalyn
will whistle him down the wind, as the old saying goes. Lawrence
Trevalyn’s daughter is too worldly to make an unsuitable marriage. Her
father is one of the ablest lawyers at the New York bar, and makes no
end of money, but his extravagant family succeeds splendidly in living
up to every dollar of his entire income, and Miss Queenie knows that
her only hope is in marrying a fortune; she is quite as ambitious
as her parents. With her the head will rule instead of the heart, I
promise you; that is, if one can judge from the score of lovers she
has sent adrift this season.”
“I really thought she cared a little for young Ray Challoner, the
millionaire. I confess I had expected to see her pass most of her
last evening at Newport dancing with him exclusively; but perhaps she
is pursuing this course to pique him into an immediate proposal. A
remarkably shrewd and clever girl is Queenie Trevalyn.”
“Is this Mr. Challoner deeply in love with her, too?” asked the mother
of the four unwedded girls, trying to veil the eagerness in her voice
behind a mass of carelessness.
“Hopelessly,” returned her informant, “and for that reason I marvel
that he is not on hand to sue for every dance and challenge any one to
mortal combat who dares seek the beauty’s favor.”
Meanwhile, the young girl who had been the subject of the above gossip
had disappeared through one of the long French windows that opened
out upon the piazza, and, leaning upon the arm of her companion, had
floated across the white sands to the water’s edge.
For a moment they stood thus, in utter silence, while the tide rippled
in slowly at their feet, mirroring the thousands of glittering stars in
the blue dome above on its pulsing bosom.
Queenie pretends the utmost innocence in regard to the object he has in
view in asking her to come down to the water by whose waves they have
spent so many happy hours, to say good-by.
A score or more of lovers have stood on the self-same spot with her in
the last fortnight, and ere they had turned away from those rippling
waves they had laid their hearts and fortunes at her dainty feet, only
to be rejected, as only a coquette can reject a suitor.
Yes, she knew what was coming; his troubled face and agitation was a
forerunner of that, but her tongue ran on volubly and gayly, of how she
had enjoyed Newport, and how sorry she would feel as the train bore her
away to her city home.
And as she talked on in her delightful, breezy way, his face grew
graver and more troubled.
“He is going to ask me to marry him, and it depends upon his fortune as
to whether I say yes or no. He has been wonderfully silent as to what
he is, but if I am good at guessing, I should say that he is a Western
silver king--he must be worth twice as many millions as Ray Challoner,”
Queenie said to herself.
She had adroitly led up to a proposal of marriage by knowing just
what to say, and how to use her subtly sweet voice in uttering the
sentiments low and falteringly, to arouse him to a declaration of the
tender passion.
Standing there, he was thinking of the gulf which lay between him and
this fair young girl whom he had learned to love, and that he should
leave her without revealing one word of what was in his heart; but as
he turned to her to make some commonplace remark, and suggest returning
to the ballroom, she looked so irresistibly sweet and gracious, his
heart seemed swept away from him by storm.
He never knew quite how it came about, but he found himself holding her
hands crushed close to his bosom, while his white lips murmured:
“This has been a month in my life which will stand out clear and
distinct--forever. In it I have tasted the only happiness which I have
ever known; nothing will ever be like it to me again. Will you remember
me, I wonder, after you have returned home?”
“Why should I not?” she murmured, shyly. “You have helped me to pass
the happiest summer I have ever known.”
“Do you really mean that, Miss Trevalyn--Queenie!” he cried, hoarsely,
wondering if his ears had not deceived him.
“Yes,” she sighed, glancing down with a tenderness in her tone which
she intended that he should not mistake.
“I should not speak the words that are trembling on my lips, but your
kindness gives courage to my frightened heart, and I will dare incur
your displeasure, perhaps, by uttering them; but you must know, you who
are so beautiful that all men love you--you whom to gaze upon is to
become lost.”
“I--I do not know what you mean, Mr. Dinsmore,” she murmured, with shy,
averted eyes and downcast, blushing face, thinking how different this
proposal was to the score of others she had received.
“May I dare tell you? Promise me you will not be very angry,” he said,
humbly, “and that you will forgive me.”
But he did not wait for her answer, he dared not pause to think, lest
his courage should fail him, but cried huskily:
“Pardon me if I am brusque and abrupt, sweet girl, but the words are
forcing themselves like a torrent from my heart to my lips--ah, Heaven,
you must have guessed the truth ere this, Queenie! I love you! I love
you with a passion so great it is driving me mad. Let me pray my prayer
to you, let me kneel at your feet and utter it. Ah, Heaven! words fail
me to tell you how dearly I love you, my darling. My life seems to
have merged completely into yours. I love you so dearly and well, if
you send me from you, you will wreck my life--break my heart. I cast
my life as a die upon your yes or no. Look at me, darling, and answer
me--will you be my wife, Queenie. For Heaven’s sake say yes and end my
agitation and my misery. Is your answer life or death for me, my love?”