All at once every hope upon which she had built her expectation of a roseate future lay in ruins at her feet. She was not even the wealthy widow that she had expected to be.
Then she fell to thinking of all that Raymond Challoner had promised if she would aid him in his schemes of urging this girl Jess to a speedy marriage, in order that he might gain the Dinsmore millions.
Queenie’s curiosity over the girl made her forget her sorrow for the time being, in realizing the fact, that even had John Dinsmore lived, this was the girl whom he would have been in duty bound to wed. This was the girl who would have lived in the sunshine of his presence.
“He would never have loved her, for his love was mine—all mine!” she cried, clutching both of her hands convulsively over her heart. “Such a man loves once in a lifetime—no more!”
She lost no time in sending for Jess to come to her, and she was agreeably surprised to see the girl return with the messenger.
Queenie had expected to see a shy little Southern rosebud; instead, she beheld a glorious young creature of such rare beauty that for a moment she held her breath in astonishment as she gazed upon her; and even in that moment the thought ran through Queenie’s mind:
“Despite John Dinsmore’s assurances that he would never love any one else but me, he would have been hardly human not to have fallen in love with this peerless little Jess at first sight had he but seen her.”
Queenie’s reverie was cut short by the girl advancing with outstretched hands toward her, saying:
“I am Jess—and you are Queenie Trevalyn! I—I beg your pardon, Mrs. Brown. Dear me, how funny the thought of your being even married, let alone being a—widow—seems,” she rattled on, breathlessly. “I love you already, you are so sweet. Won’t you let me kiss you, and won’t you say: ‘Welcome, Jess?’”
“I was just about to say that, and offer not one, but as many kisses as you like,” said Queenie, opening out her arms to the graceful little figure that bounded into them.