“Ah, cruel as the grave,
Go, go, and come no more!
But canst thou set my heart
Just where it was before?
Go, go, and come no more!
Go, leave me with my tears,
The only gift of thine
Which shall outlive the years.”
The letter which Jess had received from Mrs. Bryson of Blackheath Hall
on that memorable day on which she was to prepare for her journey to
visit the Trevalyns--had contained another item that had troubled the
young girl greatly.
It ran as follows:
“We were greatly surprised, and need I add, pleased, by an unexpected
visit from your affianced husband. Mr. Dinsmore was greatly troubled,
however, over the fact that you had been permitted to go away from the
hall.
“‘Mischief will come of it. A presentiment which I cannot shake off
tells me so.’ He seems so downhearted over it that----Forgive me for
breaking my promise to you, Jess. I thought it wisest and best to tell
him where you had gone, to visit the Trevalyn family of New York. I
also told him of the little incident which had intercepted your visit,
and that you were on the farm of Lawyer Abbot’s brother-in-law, but
were to start for New York with Lawyer Abbot the day after my letter
reached you.
“Still he did not seem to be thoroughly satisfied. He walked the length
of the drawing-room up and down with knitted brows, his face haggard
and anxious.
“‘I repeat that I fear mischief will come of it,’ he declared. ‘Jess is
a girl who has never been away from the seclusion of Blackheath Hall.
She does not know the world of men and women beyond these confines. Ten
to one she will as likely as not fall in love with some farmhand there,
and marry him out of hand, or elope with him, or do something equally
hoydenish. You know Jess is not like other girls.’
“To appease his annoyance, we agreed that he should meet you and Lawyer
Abbot at the first junction the other side of Caldwell, and finish the
journey with you.”
It was little wonder, after reading that, that Jess had consented at
once to wed the man of her own choice when he had asked her to do so,
and made no demurrer when he declared the marriage must take place
without delay--that marriage that seemed now almost like a dream to
Jess as the train bore her quickly away from her newly made husband.
Her thoughts were so confused she did not realize what she had said or
done that he should get so angry with her on that homeward walk. It was
the last drop in her cup of sorrow when he parted so coldly from her,
without one good-by kiss, one tender word of farewell.
Jess had watched the tall figure out of sight, and then gave way to the
bitterest, most passionate weeping that her girlish eyes had ever known.
But to return at this point to Ray Challoner, who was passing himself
off so successfully as John Dinsmore, the heir prospective of
Blackheath Hall.
When he had returned to the hall from his hasty trip to New Orleans, it
was with the full determination of pushing the marriage forward to a
climax as quickly as possible. His rage knew no bounds when he learned
that fate had served him so dastardly a trick as to send Jess away on a
visit.
He thanked his stars, however, that the trip north, to the home of
Queenie Trevalyn, in New York, had been intercepted.
He was quick to plan, and equally quick to execute, and he determined
that Jess should never get to the home of his former sweetheart,
Queenie Trevalyn, if by human ingenuity he could prevent it, for it
would never, never do for Jess to tell them that she was soon to marry
the hero of that past summer at Newport; for, if she were to describe
him, the description would be so vastly different from what they knew
John Dinsmore to be, that investigations would be sure to be set on
foot, and the wild plot of Raymond Challoner to win the Dinsmore
millions would be frustrated--nipped, as it were, in the bud.
He remembered Queenie Trevalyn’s parting words to him:
“From this hour we are bitter enemies, Mr. Challoner. Enemies to the
death. You have insulted my pride, and the day will come when you will
bitterly rue it!”
To lose him this heiress would be just the kind of revenge most
pleasing to Queenie Trevalyn, who realized all too well his love of
wealth and luxury.
No; Jess must never reach New York and hear the story of how John
Dinsmore had been Queenie’s admirer, and all the rest she had to tell,
for no doubt, out of pique, Jess would not take him then, believing him
one and the same John Dinsmore, of course.
No; he would meet Lawyer Abbot and Jess ere they reached New York,
manage somehow to get the lawyer out of the way, and then marry Jess
then and there, whether she would or no, and by fair means or foul.
But once again fate checkmated him. By a change in the railroad
schedule, which took effect on the day she started north, Raymond
Challoner missed Lawyer Abbot and Jess, and consequently they went on
to New York one train in advance of him.
He raved and cursed like a madman when he reached the junction where he
expected to meet them and found this to be the case. He would have to
go by a train which reached New York some seven hours later, there was
no help for it, and he was therefore obliged to make the best of the
matter after his chagrin had worn itself out.
As the lightning express bore him along, he contented himself with
laying out his plans.
Of course it would never do for him to go to the home of Queenie
Trevalyn calling himself John Dinsmore, as he inquired for Jess--never
in the world. He must wait and watch for the first opportunity of
seeing Jess alone, and then, well, then he would carry out his
deep-laid plan of marrying the girl ere she ever had the opportunity of
returning to the house.
He bethought himself that the best, and the safest place for him to go,
in the meantime, was his Uncle Brown’s.
“Not that the old curmudgeon will be glad to see me; more than likely
he will shut the door in my face; but I’ll swallow down that insult,
or any more that he may offer, to see if it is possible to patch up a
truce with him and get into his good graces again. I am sure that he
has cut me off without a shilling, as he notified me that he would do.
Still, while there’s life there’s hope, as the old saying goes.”
Upon reaching New York Raymond Challoner suited the action to the
resolve, and made his way to his uncle’s home at once. He took a cab
until he reached within half a block of his destination, then dismissed
the vehicle, knowing that it would never do for his miserly old uncle
to behold him indulging in the luxury of riding.
“Hello!” muttered Challoner, rubbing his eyes in amazement as he stood
before the street number he was looking for, “am I mad, or do my eyes
deceive me? The place painted, and lace curtains at the windows, and
an air of luxury around his miserly abode. Surely something out of the
ordinary run of events has transpired. The old man has slipped off this
mortal coil, or rented the house to some one who knows better than he
did how to keep up a house in a first-class neighborhood--that will be
a pride, instead of a disgrace and a nuisance to the people on both
sides of him.
“He vowed he would live here till the day he died. Now, who knows if he
changed his mind in this instance, he might do it in the affair of the
will--make a new one leaving his vast possessions to me? Well, well,
we shall see. If others live here now, they can probably give me some
information as to where the old bundle of bones, or, rather, my dear
uncle, has gone to.”
He ran lightly up the steps and rang the bell, noting that even the old
bell had been removed and a brand new silver one of latest design had
been put in its place.
In answer to his summons a liveried servant opened the door.
The recognition was mutual.
“Master Raymond!” exclaimed the man, while that young man uttered in
the same breath: “Dan! togged out in fine feathers, or do my eyes
deceive me?”
Before he could answer, Raymond Challoner went on, wonderingly:
“What is the meaning of all this change, Dan? Has my uncle taken to
living like a prince in his old age? I should as soon have expected to
see the world suddenly come to a standstill.”
“There’s a mighty change in the old place, sir, I can tell you; and
the reason for it is plain enough. Master Brown has taken to himself a
young wife, sir,” answered the man, enjoying the amazement on Raymond
Challoner’s face.
“My uncle married!” he gasped. “I can hardly credit the evidences of my
own ears, Dan. I am dumfounded--bewildered!”
“I knew you would be, sir, when you came to hear of it,” returned the
old servant, watching the young man’s white face, and almost pitying
him, even while he did not like him, for he knew that the information
he had just given him was Raymond Challoner’s deathblow to the
expectation of inheriting a penny from his uncle.
“Is he within, and can I see him?” asked the young man, pulling himself
together by a mighty effort. “Dan, I must see him!”
The old servitor looked exceedingly uncomfortable, as he answered with
hesitancy:
“I am sorry, Mr. Ray, but my orders from him were to deny you
admittance if you ever came here and asked for him.”