One king reigneth her heart within;
One alone by night and day,
Moves her spirit to curse or pray.
Though loves beset her and friends deride;
Yea, when she smileth another’s bride;
Still for her love her heart makes moan.
To love once is forever, and once alone!”
“I do hope, Queenie, that you are not commencing to grow sentimental!” cried Mrs. Trevalyn, holding up her hands as though the very idea was a blow which she was warding off.
“Would such a state of affairs surprise you very much, mamma?” retorted the girl, cresting her head defiantly. “Youth is the age of romance, of joy, and—and the mating of true hearts.”
“Youth is the age of nonsense!” retorted her mother, spiritedly. “If I had been romantic instead of sensible when I was your age, Queenie, I should have had a sorry enough life of it. I say then, young as I was, that it was wealth that ruled the world, and not love. Why, I threw over a handsome young doctor, whose only wealth was his brains, for your father, who was accounted at that time the best catch of the season at Newport.”