“Strong in my heart old memories wake
To-night.
Live on my lips dead kisses burn;
Hot to my eyes wept tears return;
Forgotten throbs my pulses shake,
To-night.
“Love is avenged--my buried love--
To-night.
The weakling present slips away;
The giant past alone has sway,
Potential as the gods above,
To-night.”
“I do not understand you in the least, my dear,” exclaimed Mrs.
Trevalyn, as Queenie still continued to wring her hands, weeping
bitterly the while. “Your eyes will be in the back of your head if you
keep on wailing and weeping in this way,” she added in annoyance, “and
a pretty sight you will present then. Always remember to keep your face
looking beautiful, no matter what else goes amiss.”
Thus admonished, Queenie dried her eyes, but she could not keep back
the heavy sighs that arose to her lips at the very thought of Raymond
Challoner and his hint that she must marry him.
“I had forgotten to tell you an interesting piece of news mother,” said
Queenie, “and that is that I hear Raymond Challoner is the discarded
nephew of--of my--my late husband.”
This was indeed news to Mrs. Trevalyn, and she said so, adding in the
next breath:
“He broke his betrothal to you, Queenie, because your father had lost
his fortune. I should not be a particle surprised if he were to attempt
to renew his suit when he finds that you have money, my dear, but you
can afford to whistle him down the wind. Why, my dear child, what is
the matter? You look so woefully pale, quite as though you were going
to swoon. Your nerves are overwrought, and no wonder. I must go now,
for I never can bear to be about when there are such grewsome things
going on as making arrangements for a funeral. I had almost forgotten
to tell you a little piece of news which I was going to run over anyway
to-day to tell you about.”
Queenie never raised her face from her hands, and her mother went on:
“The young girl whom old Lawyer Abbot wrote us about, asking that
we receive her to visit you for a few weeks, arrived late yesterday
afternoon. Her surprise was great to learn that you had married and
left us, and were living in another part of the city.
“‘Then I shall have to go straight back to Blackheath Hall!’” she said,
disappointedly.
“‘By no means, my dear!’ I answered. ‘Remain in the home our dear
Queenie’s absence makes so desolate as long as you like. I am sure we
will be only too glad to have you here. I shall take you to see Queenie
as soon as you are thoroughly rested from your long trip!’ Of course
she stayed.
“You will be surprised when you see her, Queenie,” Mrs. Trevalyn went
on. “She is the most beautiful creature my eyes ever rested on, and
quite the strangest girl imaginable. It was well old Brown did not see
her, beauty worshiper that the old fellow was, or he would have made
her the wealthy widow instead of you, I fear.”
“Is she so much fairer than I?” exclaimed Queenie, in intense pique,
bridling up in an instant.
Her mother laughed softly, saying: “I fancied that remark would arouse
you from the lethargy into which you are falling; that was my purpose
in saying it. Pretty? Yes, the girl is more than pretty, but you are
beautiful, my peerless Queenie; you must not forget that.”
The very next day occurred the reading of the will, and then--the
thunderbolt from an apparently cloudless sky burst.
It was found that the so-called reputed millionaire was a bankrupt.
There was scarcely enough money left after his just debts were paid to
insure him a decent burial.
“I cannot, I will not believe that I have been cheated thus!” cried
Queenie, springing to her feet and tearing the trappings of heavy crape
from her and trampling them under foot.
Even the lawyer, who was reading the last word of the will, paused
in wonderment at this heartless exhibition of rage, and in the very
presence, too, of the dead. He almost feared that the enraged beauty,
who had wedded the old man for his wealth, would hurl the casket to the
floor.
It was Raymond Challoner who led her from the room.
“My disappointment is as great as yours,” he said, grimly, “but I seem
able to control myself better. We are both paupers, it seems,” he went
on, in the same whisper, “and we should sympathize with each other.”
“Of course,” he added, “marriage is for a second time not to be thought
of in connection with you or me, but even though I will not be obliged
to shield you with my name, you can yet be of use to me, and I to you,
in keeping the secret of the true cause of my uncle’s death.”
Queenie was crushed, humiliated to the very earth. She made no comment.
As though in a glass darkly, she was trying to outline her future. As
a wealthy young widow, her place in society would have been one to be
envied.
With her father a bankrupt, and the man she had married a bankrupt as
well, she saw nothing before her save seeking employment for her daily
bread.
Could she ever hope to win John Dinsmore then? She would belong to one
world and he to another, and those words lay as far apart as heaven and
earth.
Her companion, who was still clasping her arm tightly as he led her
along, broke into her reverie by saying:
“Let us step into the music-room for a few words more, Queenie. I have
something of importance to say to you still. Consent to aid me and I
will make it worth your while; you shall have a fortune at least half
as great as the one which you have just lost, if I can win what I am
aiming for. Will you spare me a few moments of your time, and give me
your undivided attention?”
She laughed a low, harsh laugh. “My time is not so valuable now
as--well, if you have any plan to offer by which I may have the hope
of retrieving my fallen fortunes, why should I not listen to your
plans--and eagerly?”
“Now you are speaking very sensibly,” he rejoined, leading her into the
music-room and closing the door carefully after them, to insure their
not being overheard by any of the servants.
Queenie was so thoroughly in his power that he knew he need have no
hesitancy in telling her his plans from beginning to end, without fear
of her daring to expose him; on the contrary, he would force her to aid
him in his determination to win the Dinsmore millions.
He began at the beginning, telling her of much that she did not know,
of that duel on the sands at Newport, on her account, in which he had,
as he believed, mortally wounded his adversary, John Dinsmore.
He saw her start, and turn deadly pale, but he went on, hurriedly:
“He lingered for some weeks, but in the end succumbed to his injuries.”
“Murderer!” gasped Queenie. “Oh, God! he is dead, then! dead!”
Raymond Challoner looked at her coolly, as he replied:
“We do not call affairs of honor by such a hard name as that which just
now passed your lips, my dear madam. We took our chances, one against
the other; that was fair play. He was as liable to shoot me as I was to
shoot him. It was not like willfully planning in secret and carrying
out a deliberate murder.”
Queenie fell back in her seat, powerless to reply. She knew but too
well the meaning he would convey by those words.
She made no further attempt to interrupt him, and he related the
tale, which sounded to her ears like some weird romance, of how he
was _en route_ to the races at New Orleans, and the accident which
necessitated his remaining over at the crossroads for the next train,
which would not come along for some hours; of the interesting story
the old landlord had told him of the death of some man in England who
was worth many millions, and the extraordinary will he had left behind
him, namely, that half of his estate should go to his nephew, John
Dinsmore, and the other half to a young girl who had been brought up as
a foundling upon the estate, provided these two should marry.
“The young girl,” he went on, “resided upon an estate known as
Blackheath Hall, in the vicinity where I was at that time. The man was
your one-time lover, Dinsmore, whom you considerately threw over for
me.”
Again Queenie’s lips moved, but no sound came from them. He could see
that she was vitally interested in his narrative--indeed, she scarcely
moved or breathed even, during the recital; her eyes were riveted upon
his face, as though spellbound.
“You will wonder how all this is of interest to you, Queenie. I am fast
nearing that point. I must tell you all, that you may better understand
the exact situation.
“Well, to cut the story as short as possible, knowing that Dinsmore had
passed in his checks, I conceived the daring scheme of passing myself
off for him, marrying the girl, and inheriting the Dinsmore fortune,
which I would lose no time in putting into cash. I knew that I would
have little trouble in proving the identity, as I could get hold of the
private papers he left behind him through the doctor who attended him,
who was a sworn friend of mine. Dinsmore had once visited that part
of the country when he was a child, but I counted on the people not
remembering his childish features.
“Well, the daring scheme worked like a charm even beyond my wildest
hopes. I succeeded in establishing my identity as John Dinsmore, and
in becoming betrothed to the co-heiress. That girl is now in New York,
visiting at your old home. Her name is Jess. I rely upon you to aid me
in marrying her, for to tell you the truth, she detests me, and wants
to back out. Accomplish this, and you shall be a rich woman for life,
Queenie.”