“‘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.